《Myth/Real》 Prologue: A Mind like a Cage Prologue ¡­ ¡­¡­. ..¡­¡­..? Dark. It was dark. The boy was staring at nothing. Staring at the dark. It had been this way for a very long time. He lay there, staring at the featureless dark. Perfect stillness, everywhere. Yet, even though it was perfectly still, it was not perfectly silent. Sometimes, he heard the faintest vestiges of sound from somewhere far away, faded by the distance. If he could muster the energy to strain his ears, he might have been able to hear more clearly¡­ But he did not have the energy, that time. He could not have turned his head. He could only stare at the dark with half-lidded eyes. Then, there was a sudden change. An unknown period of time ago, the dark was sometimes replaced with soft light. He saw blurry things he had no name for. The sight of them stirred something rusty and unused inside. That something sparked a faint want within him. A desire to move, to touch. Yet, his body refused to respond. However, the spark had been lit and refused to fade, so he kept on trying. One day, he managed to move. It was his eyes and only his eyes, but he managed to move them. He focused on the blurry shapes and the blur receded just a little. He faintly felt another thing. It was different from the first. It made him feel a pleasant echo. That was the beginning. The boy slowly felt more and more things, like he was a¡­something. A nameless thing with many moving bits inside ¡­a¡­machine? Yes, a machine that was becoming aware of the many bits and pieces inside itself. Slowly, he was discovering many tiny bits of himself, piece by piece. Maybe once he discovered all the pieces of himself, he would be able to move? Ah, that was it. He discovered another desire. He wanted to know himself. He had a name once, hadn¡¯t he? The faint echoes he heard seemed to get more distinct each time he heard them. They were familiar things that lit an ache inside his chest. Was it pleasant or painful? Or perhaps both? Somehow, he yearned these sensations. Then, his dark world changed again. A riot of colour bloomed, in shapes and curves that had meanings just out of his comprehension. If only he could remember¡­ So, he took his time. He watched the new shapes, letting the meanings swim back up from the murky sea in his head. Yet, each time he comprehended, an unsettling feeling grew. He could not stop comprehending, so he grew more and more restless. The moment when he realized the true form of the shapes was the moment he could identify words and images. Now he knew inside him was fear¡­and a wild, desperate urge. So, even without full understanding, he redoubled his efforts to move. His body twitched madly. His face contorted with effort. He could no longer stomach this dark place. It was a prison. If he stayed here, something terrible would happen. Each second that passed only cemented the certainty. He could remember a dark figure that loomed. White, flat teeth over red flesh, stretched in a fearsome rictus. Its hand grasped something heavy, a _____. The first time it fell in this hallucination, he remembered what pain felt like. That was when he became aware of the dull ache that plagued him constantly, slowly driving him mad. In silent agony, he finally regained the ability to raise his arm. Fingers scrabbled at a shape(button). The words and images exploded into another world! It was too much! Too much to take in! Too much to understand! He would scream if he could remember how! And yet¡­he endured. Slowly, he fought the madness. The ache was no longer so maddening. The looming, toothy monster was no longer vivid. When did the pain start fading? Perhaps it was when he remembered how to read. At first, he recognized only single letters. But single letters built up into words. Words built into phrases, then sentences. Then meaning began to flood in. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. However, even though the pain faded, the urge only grew stronger. The visions of the monster were tied to the urge. He had to face it. Why? Ah. How could he have forgotten? He had something to ______. If he wasn¡¯t there, then the monster would¡­ Would¡­ ¡­It would do something terrible. So terrible that he could feel the phantom pain in his chest. He regained the ability to be determined (Make a fist. Clench your jaw. You will not shiver.). Why? So that the fear of the monster would not paralyze him. So that his uncertainty would no longer make him stop. Thoughts, images and sounds burst in fits and pops. He was a swirl of memories, disjointed and chaotic. But patterns were forming, rebuilding the machine that was ______. The boy opened his eyes. He could make sense of what he saw now. He saw a man and a woman. He saw many things that could be men and women, all shapes and features. There was a term to describe such things. _____? No use, he could not grasp it yet. There were screens with texts that described the man and woman he saw. He grew frustrated at the sheer number of words in the screens. He had no time to read all of them! The monster was about to strike! He caught sight of a box marked with a strange shape. A ____. Oh¡­this was a dice. What was a dice? ¡­Something you threw. Why? _____. ¡­Ah. Luck? What is luck? Still, it felt like something he should press. He had a feeling it was the right thing to do. The moment he pressed the button, the man and woman in front of him blurred, while the rest disappeared. They seemed to melt into one figure before solidifying. The boy frowned at what was left. It was not¡­human? It stood upright and had the same number of limbs and fingers as a human. Male, covered in fur, features that were_______. He could not remember how to describe the male figure, save that he did not dislike it. The moment of curiosity was quashed by the insistent urge inside him. He had no time to waste. The monster was _____. He had to stand up and ________! He looked up and down before spotting a button that read ¡®accept¡¯. Puzzling out, its general meaning took a few precious seconds, but he managed to succeed and slapped his entire palm on it. This time, he regained the ability to scream in frustration. Why? Why ANOTHER screen? It was blank, even! Oh, there was an accept button! Punching it caused a smaller screen to pop up. What ____ saw on it blew past his impatience.
[Please enter your name]
Ah. He¡­he had almost forgotten this. Wasn¡¯t reclaiming his name his very first desire? He had neglected it. How was he supposed to answer this question? This time, unlike before, his mind was no longer shackled by lethargy. Wracking his brain brought him to a fuzzy and incomplete memory. -He had been crying. His nose was stuffy and he sniffled. The woman knelt before him and smiled. It was a warm thing that soothed him. ¡°Don¡¯t cry, Isaac.¡± She told him, as warm arms gathered him into an embrace- ¡°Isaac.¡± He mumbled. ¡°I¡¯m Isaac.¡± The screens all disappeared. One last message appeared. [/td]
[Welcome to Myth/Real Online, Isaac!]
And then all was white. Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Full Immersion Games. The next milestone after virtual reality. Instead of simply strapping on a VR headset and some controllers, the player would have their consciousness drawn out form their body and placed within an avatar within the game world itself in a full-body experience. It was the next holy grail of entertainment, another dream to pursue by a people who were forever looking for the next promised land. Fiction has been written, drawn and animated about such a dream. Once VR was achieved, such things did not seem so much like a pipe dream anymore; it could be done. Building upon past achievements, designers and players alike could put their heads together and slowly put together a concrete idea of how to make the dream into reality. The task remained daunting, requiring computers of immense power and understanding of the human brain that transcended modern medical science. Full Immersion seemed to lie far off in the misty future. That is, until WORLDTREE presenters marched onto stage during an annual games convention and challenged the host to try their new device and the alpha build of an unknown game called Myth/Real Online. Shouts of awe and disbelief echoed around the globe as the host left his body and entered his avatar. It seemed like a staged demo¡­until random people were called up on stage to try it for themselves. The internet exploded. Amidst the typical shit-flinging and name-calling, serious discussion and rational debate took place. WORLDTREE kindly shared its patented data, just to prove that it was no hoax. As evidence seemingly piled up on its own, even the most stoic, skeptical researchers could not help but feel a spark of excitement. If the potential drawbacks were eliminated, why¡­ the potential! Full Immersion training for soldiers in the military! VR surgical operations that would hone the skills of surgeons safely! A massive kegger party with virtual booze, with the whole world attending! (This one was publically laughed at, but some people were secretly taking down notes for later¡­) Naturally, the internet was flooded with yet more rumors and hoaxes. Certain rumors would spark off chain of events that would abruptly rise into public scrutiny much later. But as far as the world went, it currently did not even register in the background noise. Everyone was focused on WORLDTREE and their next magic trick. When the company distributed Closed Beta passes for their mystery game, there were actual murders as the world collectively went mad once again. The wiser ones kept their good fortune close to their chests, while the more foolish suffered. Some even gave up and sold their passes to escape the harassment. One of these passes would change hands multiple times before landing in the hands of a desperate young girl. Even she herself did not really know what logic she was using when she jammed a Full Immersion Headset on her brother¡¯s head and switched it on. After all, he was in a coma and Myth/Real Online was nowhere near suitable for medical treatments. This is where it all begins. ------------- White. His head hurt. He flopped over onto his side, a fire burning in his head. He thrashed weakly, eyes screwed shut with pain. He heard voices, but the agony in his head shredded all meaning from them. The world tilted and something cool washed over him¡­ ¡­¡­¡­¡­. He awoke from his blackout. The world was no longer white and piercing, but everything swam in a mess of color. His head was throbbing, bloated with a cloying cloud. He felt sick and retched, but nothing came out. His world tilted again as points of pressure suddenly clamped onto him, lifting and bending him over¡­ ¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­.. He awoke from his blackout. The world shifted nauseatingly, but now he could look at a point without being overcome by dizziness. His head pounded, but the pressure within had receded from the point of bursting. He shifted his gaze slowly nonetheless. Above him, he saw wooden beams and boards. Something looked unusual about them, but he could not put a finger on it. He turned his head slowly and saw wooden furniture. Everything was made of wood. Sunlight fell in from an open window. The curtains, at least, were made of something that looked like cloth. Then again, he was lying on something soft. A blanket covered his body and that was made from cloth too. Seeing so much wooden things felt strange for some reason. He wanted to examine the room more, but his eyelids fell closed¡­ The next time Isaac awoke, his thoughts had finally settled down into a steady stream, rather than the chaotic morass he had known all this time. His head merely ached instead of burning. The world held steady as his gaze shifted around the room. Almost nothing had changed from the last time he woke up, save for the light filtering in from the window. It was a golden tint that spoke of sunset. Wanting to know the time, Isaac looked around the room, but there was no clock to be seen. He paused, sorting through his muddled memories to determine just what a clock was and how he knew about it. The sound of creaking hinges interrupted his self-reflection. He turned his head towards the sound and saw a very strange-looking being staring right back at him. Isaac saw a woman, matronly and middle-aged. She had kind eyes and earthy brown hair tied underneath a green cloth kerchief. She was wearing rough-spun clothing and an apron that covered her front entirely. The front pocket seemed to have bundles of dried grass poking out of it. What really threw him off was the sight of her ears. They poked out from each side of her head and were covered in fur the color of her hair instead of skin like her arms and face. She gave a cry of surprise and crossed the room, over to the bed he was lying on. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re awake! Are you feeling well? Do you feel pain anywhere?¡± She asked anxiously. Isaac flinched, overwhelmed by the torrent of words. He could only glance nervously at the strange woman. The woman seemed to realize she was scaring him and backed away a little. ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry, dear. You¡¯ve been terribly ill.¡± She explained in a softer tone of voice. ¡°Such a terrible delirium, that was. Tossing and turning as if tortured. I was afraid you would never wake from it.¡± Isaac slowly relaxed, his hands relaxed and he felt the ache from gripping them so tightly. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. The woman drew up a chair and sat next to the bed, smiling warmly. Isaac was struck with a burst of longing at the familiar expression. It was...motherly. ¡°My name is Farah, young man. What is yours?¡± The woman asked. Isaac opened his mouth. ¡°¡­¡­.!¡± To his dismay, all that came out of his mouth was a guttural noise. He tried again ¡°¡­¡­¡­..!¡± Farah¡¯s smile faltered and disappeared as Isaac kept trying and failing to speak. ¡°Oh, oh you poor child¡­¡± She muttered, her face full of horrified pity. She got up and placed gentle hands on his shoulders. ¡°Shush, shush. It¡¯s alright. Don¡¯t strain yourself.¡± She pushed him down until he was lying on the bed again. ¡°We¡¯ll solve this, so don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll get the druid, if he can¡¯t help you, then nobody can.¡± She hustled out of the room, leaving Isaac to stew in his defeat. Trying not to dwell on his dismal failure, Isaac turned his thoughts onto Farah¡¯s strange ears. Now that he had time to think, he was becoming more and more certain that they should be rounded and small, not so large and covered in fur. It reminded him of some sort of small, four-legged creature he could not remember the name of. That was not the only strange thing. The room itself was strange, as he had noted earlier. So many things were missing. Where were the lights? The electronics? There was not even a tablet in sight. And most of all, everything looked rather¡­stylized and clean. They did not match the gritty detail he could almost remember. He vaguely recalled seeing similar things, though not precisely what or where from. Isaac was beginning to loathe the gaps in his memory. That brief mental strain had caused the ache to flare up into pounding again. He shut his eyes and rubbed his palms into his forehead. The sensation was all wrong, as though he was wearing something over his face. He opened his eyes and stared dully at his hands. Instead of smooth skin, there was fur and fleshy pads and claws. How should he react to this? His scattered memories were telling him this was wrong, yet he could feel the bed and smell the scent of herbs and bread in the air. Was this real or not? -------------------------- Farah had said that she was fetching the Druid, whoever that was, but it was taking a long time. The sunlight had crept across the length of the room while Isaac found yet another strange part of this world he had woken up to. In short, he found his menu screen. A semi-transparent screen had appeared in his vision, showing a simple two-part hand gesture as well as a simple line of text reading ¡®Open up your menu¡¯. With only the vaguest idea of what a menu was, Isaac had obediently followed the instructions and slowly blundered his way through the nest of screens. So far, he had found that the eye-catching ¡®X¡¯ at the top right corner of each screen would cause the screen to vanish. The button labelled ¡®Status¡¯ gave him a confusing bunch of small screens within a bigger screen with all sorts of numbers and terms that still meant nothing to him. He had been staring at it for a while now and was still no closer to understanding from since he started. The loud squeaking of the door hinges announced Farah¡¯s return. Accompanying her was the Druid she was speaking of and one other person. The Druid himself was eye-catching in appearance. Unlike Farah, who could pass for human if she covered her ears up, the Druid would literally stand out in a crowd thanks to the towering branches of his antlers, sprouting like trees from his head. He was nearly entirely an animal in appearance, save for the five fingers on his hands, the intelligent look in his eyes and a strangely expressive face. He also wore a short cape that looked to be woven out of living leaves that rustled softly, as if in an eternal wind. Behind him was a girl, judging from her dress. She seemed to be halfway in between Farah and the Druid appearance-wise. She had feline ears poking out from sandy brown hair gathered into a short braid and a curling cat tail that swayed out from behind her. Her skin had patches of ginger fur, predominantly on her neck and tapering until only the points decorated her cheeks. Her clothes were a near-replica of Farah¡¯s and her expression was stoically calm. ¡°Good evening, young man.¡± The Druid¡¯s voice was calm and deep. ¡°My name is Kiernan. I shall do all that is in my power to help you.¡± By the time Druid Kiernan was done with his examinations, the sunlight had vanished and the clashing songs of insects drifted endlessly through the open window. Isaac had long since been overtaken by sleep while the Druid¡¯s hands glowed with a soft light, one placed on the crown of his head and the other on his chest. Farah had left the room to see to their dinner, leaving the younger girl behind to watch the druid while he worked. The glow faded from Kiernan¡¯s hands and he stood up from his seat, humming gravely as he did. ¡°Ah, this is quite complicated.¡± He mused out loud. ¡°How so, Master Druid?¡± The girl asked curiously. ¡°Physically, he is fine, though severely weakened.¡± Kiernan replied, turning his head to face the cat-girl. ¡°You see the patterns on both his skin and pelt? Those mark someone who has received power from the Leystones.¡± ¡°The ring of standing stones outside the village? I always thought only Druids could use them! Don¡¯t they do something horrid to normal folk?¡± The young lady exclaimed, a tinge of shock in her voice. ¡°¡­Well, you¡¯d not be wrong.¡± Kiernan admitted. ¡°But while ¡®tis uncommon knowledge, the Leystones can bestow great powers on people, but only when they possess the right blood. There¡¯s no way to know if you fulfill the requirements save to try it for yourself.¡± Then, a frown crossed his face. ¡°However, such powers often come with a great price. Both power and price are different for every attempt, as records say. This poor young lad may have very well sacrificed his voice. However, in the worst case, he may have had his wits shredded to the winds.¡± Kiernan sighed gravely. ¡°I am fairly certain that he¡¯s become a lackwit. He does not respond rightly to anything. We can only hope that he will recover in the future.¡± The girl had briefly gone pale. ¡°Oh¡­¡± ¡°Indeed. Hardship awaits in this young man¡¯s future. That is for certain.¡± Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 2 Chapter 2 The village was called Thistle, and it was built under the boughs of the great forest called the Briarweald. This entire world was called Ulrath and seemed a hodgepodge of fantasy cultures mixed into one giant melting pot. All of it was a setting in a game called Myth/Real Online. This was where Isaac was trapped. That statement was not exactly true, but after an attempt at Logging out simply popped him into that black, featureless space again, Isaac understood he could only trade one prison for another. At least in this one he was not constantly being crushed by sheer nothingness. Though he was confined to a bed, at least he had things to look at while he recovered his strength. Bit by bit, his memory was returning. The last thing he could recall before that timeless period of nothing was his father swinging a glass bottle down at him. It was a painful memory, but now he knew that he was put into a coma by his own father while protecting his sister Katherine. It sparked a constant worry inside him. Where was Kat now? Where was Mom? What happened to his body? How did he get into Myth/Real online in the first place? As for the fact that this entire place being a game¡­it was frighteningly easy to forget that. Even though everything he saw was slightly cartoony, or perhaps anime-like (like the cat-girls), but the things the people did were practically the same of what little he remembered of his real life. It was painfully real right down to the little mean acts. Isaac did not notice that right away. His ability to concentrate was utterly shot at first, leaving him drifting in and out of focus almost constantly. He once was looking at Farah bringing him breakfast only to suddenly jerk back to attention and realize she was gone and that it was noon, according to the sun. Drifting in and out of blank reverie and an inability to speak ¨C it was no wonder that the residents of Thistle were convinced that he was retarded. Farah the Healer and Kiernan the Druid were kind to him, but Riselda, the catgirl who was Farah¡¯s apprentice, seemed to regard him with disdain. She was never cruel, but he could feel the flat coldness of her gaze. This was not unnoticed by Farah, who had gently confronted her about it. Perhaps they thought he was on one of his episodes, but they had held the conversation just outside his room. Riselda had said; ¡°I know my duty, Madam Farah, but I won¡¯t feel sympathy for his stupidity. The room he¡¯s using could have gone to someone who needs it more.¡± There had been a disappointed silence after that and Isaac had felt helpless frustration boil in his chest. He didn¡¯t want to dwell on that feeling, so he stayed quiet and concentrated on recovering. Because of this, Isaac improved quite rapidly, to Kiernan and Farah¡¯s surprise and joy. He was walking and talking within the week, though with childlike clumsiness. The real improvement, however, was within his mind. With more memories as his foundation, many of the things he did not understand began to make sense.
Name:Isaac
Race:Svartalfar (Poukha)
Titles:N/A
Satiety:78/100
HP: 100/100MP: 8/8SP: 10/10
Vigor: 4Reflex: 3Intellect: 8
Charisma: 3Spirit: 4Virtue: 0
Traits:Leyline Essence, Lost Child, ???
Some of the things listed in his Status Screen explained a great deal about his condition. For instance, the ¡®Race¡¯ box said that he was a Svartalfar(Poukha), whatever that was. He vaguely knew what elves and dwarves were, but not this one before. Maybe it was what beastmen were called in this game.
[Leyline Essence] Creation Trait You have bathed yourself in the mighty flows of the land''s energies. Offering yourself, to gain a boon from ancient spirits Now reborn from the center of a Leystone Circle, you hold a mere ember of that energy in yourself. Humbled: You are rendered as weak as a child, with all attributes reduced to 1. You can re-train yourattributes. ???
While his mental state was entirely the result of his coma, the weakness of his avatar¡¯s body was the effect of the creation trait [Leyline Essence], which had reset all his stats to the weakest score of 1. Isaac was fairly sure this was his own fault for choosing to randomize everything. The benefits of the trait were all hidden. The silver lining in that cloud was that he could increase his attributes by training them, according to the description. That was proven by the fact that none of his stats had remained at 1. That was good; he definitely did not want to stay an invalid forever. Besides, he needed to get out of Thistle and explore this game world. He had only a distant hope that maybe, just maybe, his mother or sister might be playing this game as well. It was the slimmest of hopes, but it was better than staying put and doing nothing. ------------------------- A Seaport Town Millia was grateful that the tavern door was open ¨C it allowed her to see the unlucky sod flying towards her in time for her to step neatly aside. She watched the poor guy roll into the gutter, then stepped into the building. The rowdy patrons were crowded into a circle, egging on two men who were punching away at each other with no style at all. She would have blamed the booze, but since that person was sitting at the bar counter, she knew exactly who caused this particular brawl. She carefully sidled around the roaring crowd and the extremely hassled tavern owner to finally end up next to her target of interest. ¡°Had your fun?¡± She asked the woman. ¡°Mmm¡­¡± Her friend replied. ¡°Yeah, pretty much. Why don¡¯t we sneak out? It¡¯ll be more fun.¡± Millia sighed heavily. ¡°You¡¯re evil, you know?¡± Of course, that comment was met with an unrepentant smile. ¡°My god, I think I¡¯ve created a monster.¡± She muttered. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll do it your way.¡± And so, the two friends snuck out from the tavern, leaving the two men to fight over nothing. The town they walked through was built with wood and stone, with Nordic styling and dragon carvings everywhere. Since the weather here was pleasant, the locals wore clothes made of cotton, linen and silk. Since this was a port town, the people on the streets were of all races. The majority of them were human, but among them there were the Romulii, who walked around in robes and tunics patterned with laurel leaves and wolf motifs. The Svartalfar stood out since they were beastmen. Their chosen fashions were right out of medieval Europe. There were even a few knights, their full plate shining like ice in the sun. The Dwarves had culture heavily inspired by Greek mythology, which made it a novelty to see them clad togas and sandals. There was only a small group of dark elves, but they, perhaps, stood out the most. Their steampunk Victorian clothing seemed utterly out of place in their rustic surroundings, but they acted with complete unconcern about the attention they attracted. Their manners remained impeccable and seemed to be lifted straight out of Britain, along with their accents. The only Orcs present were the crewman of a merchant ship. Their Arabic-style culture was as blatant as you could get, what with the merchant himself floating around on an actual flying carpet, hawking his wares with aplomb. Even amongst such a colorful crowd, they made an unusual sight, walking together as they did. One was a tall and slender woman who could have walked right out of a magazine cover if not for her long, pointed ears. She had lustrous black hair that fell in extravagant waves down to the small of her back and was clad in an elegant dress that flaunted her beauty with devastating effect. She had skin as white as marble, full, red lips and high cheekbones in an aristocratic face and what could only be called bedroom eyes that languidly captivated the gazes of men that passed by. A Dokkalfar noblewoman and a temptress. Millia, in contrast, was just below average height and seemed to have a stockier build, made even more so by the full plate armor she wore. The only part of her exposed was her face with its dusky skin, rounder and more heart-shaped than her friend¡¯s. She had silver hair, styled in a pixie cut. With her big eyes, she looked young and innocent, as though she was just freshly out of high school. Her gaze was sharp and aware, though. Nobody could miss the large round shield strapped on one arm and the Nordic bearded hand axe stuck through her belt. A half-dwarf warrior in a no-nonsense outfit, always ready to fight for her life. ¡°Hey, Naga, about those two back there¡­¡± Millia began, her expression thoughtful. ¡°They weren¡¯t Players, right? I couldn¡¯t see their names over their heads.¡± The elf lady shrugged eloquently. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I thought I had stumbled onto a quest, but nothing came up. It¡¯s kind of scary, now that I think about it. They were all acting like real people.¡± She let out a soft giggle. ¡°It was still fun though. I didn¡¯t think I could start a bar brawl that way! WORLDTREE must be staffed with geniuses.¡± Millia rolled her eyes. ¡°My god. I guess I should be thankful you don¡¯t act like this IRL. I think some creepy stalker might have murdered you by now if you did.¡± Naga, her character¡¯s full name being CountessNaga, flicked her hair haughtily. Nearby, an NPC walked right into a merchant¡¯s stand, causing the stall to collapse and the merchant to yell in outrage. ¡°That¡¯s because I can¡¯t throw fireballs IRL. Such a pity. Some scumbags could do with a thermal attitude adjustment.¡± She growled, her face darkening. Millia winced. ¡°Yikes, did something happen recently?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± Came the flat reply. Naga glared frostily at nothing in particular. ¡°Want to talk about it?¡± Millia asked, her face full of concern. ¡°No, it was just some stupid thing in a bar. I had to put him in an armbar and it ruined a perfectly good Friday. But other than that, it wasn¡¯t anything serious.¡± Naga replied nonchalantly. ¡°Shit, if you had to beat sense into that guy, it¡¯s pretty goddamn serious!¡± Millia exclaimed, stopping to face her friend fully. ¡°I said it¡¯s fine, Milly.¡± Naga grumbled. ¡°Swanson threw the asshole out of the bar. It¡¯s over and done with.¡± Millia said nothing for a few moments. If something like that happened, it was no wonder that her friend was up to her old tricks again. Naga often used voice chat in other games to entice other players into giving her free stuff simply because she was a girl. Millia personally didn¡¯t approve of it, but Naga never let it drag on into dangerous territory. She used it to get some measure of revenge against douchebags she met outside of the virtual world, misplaced though it may be. It often led to enraged players PKing her in return, but the repeated revenge killings somehow honed her skills until Naga became incredibly good at playing mage-type characters with many spells and cooldowns. Her skill at multi-tasking and micromanagement was pretty much at a professional level. The fact remained that all that skill only applied to games. She was still harassed in real life. Millia had once jealous of girls who looked better than she did, but after so many years of listening to the crap Naga had to deal with from both men and women, she was actually a little thankful that her real appearance was a little plain. That fact did not exactly stop her from ¡®tweaking¡¯ her character¡¯s appearance in this game, though¡­a few areas in particular. She no longer had that slight gap in her front teeth for one. Naga managed to outshine her effortlessly, though. ¡°Okay! Enough moping!¡± The Dark Elf said in a sing-song voice, clapping her hands together. She had a wide smile on her face again as if the last few minutes had never happened. ¡°Let¡¯s go hunting! Hunting! Surely you¡¯ve had enough of abusing the training dummies by now!¡± Millia grinned savagely. ¡°You have no idea.¡± She lifted her finger and slashed right and down in the air, causing her menu screen to appear in front of her. She opened up her World Map and zoomed it out with both fingers. ¡°The Goblin Warren north of the city sounds good to you?¡± Naga leaned over to look at the map. ¡°That¡¯s a zone at least five levels above us. Sounds exciting! Let¡¯s do it!¡± Millia pumped one fist in the air. ¡°Max level before Closed beta is over!¡± Naga followed her lead. ¡°Yeah!¡± Later, the gate guards stared after the oddball pair who exited the city whooping and hollering like lunatics. The grizzled sergeant in charge could only shake his head. ¡°¡¯These Star-people are mad. All mad, I tell ya¡­¡± -------------------------- Thistle Isaac¡¯s vague plan to move out of the Healer¡¯s hospice had failed quite miserably, thanks to Farah¡¯s kind nature. Even though he could finally school his clumsy tongue into forming speech, he probably needed an actual silver tongue to even dent Farah¡¯s will in this matter. It turned out that Kiernan had been asking around the village, trying to find anyone who recognized Isaac. It was a futile effort from the start, though the boy in question had no idea how to even explain that to the Druid, nor was he actually capable of telling the older beastman at the time. In the end, he still had to stay in the room he had woken up in. Now that he was strong enough to move on his own, Isaac had started wandering throughout Thistle while Farah was working to avoid dealing with Riselda¡¯s disapproving glares. Of course, he was something of a novelty in the village, which meant he was still stared at. He had no choice but to ignore them, since he needed the exercise to increase his attributes. Isaac found himself enjoying these walks through the village. It was a peaceful place and the scenery was quite breathtaking. The buildings were all built in a gigantic forest, with massive trees that stretched far off into the sky. The buildings were built amongst these wooden titans and sometimes they seemed to have been grown out of the living wood itself. Though, given the presence of Druids like Kiernan, he should not feel so surprised about this. Thistle had many shops, like a blacksmith and a woodworker¡¯s (now that one was a surprise). There was also a store that sold magical items and reagents. He had been fascinated by all the glowing trinkets on the shelves when he passed by one day. The most interesting building had been the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, which was always full of said adventurers. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The day he saw the Guild was also the day he first saw another Player for the first time. That person¡¯s name had been floating above their head¡­and was wearing such a skimpy set of clothing that Isaac could barely look in her direction without blushing heavily. She was a catgirl like Riselda, but she appeared to be in such a rush that by the time Isaac had gathered the courage to talk to her, she had disappeared from the Guild. ¡°Oof!¡± Isaac was jolted out of his musings as he walked into wall and fell onto his rump. ¡°Oh. It¡¯s the lackwit.¡± A stranger¡¯s voice said. Opening his eyes, Isaac found himself looking at the imposing muscular form of a blonde Svartalfar he had never met before. The man was mostly human like Farah, but his golden hair and the ears reminded him of a lion. He was dressed in finer clothing then the rest of the village, the best being the embroidered vest. A sword swung at his waist and a smile was on his face. Isaac felt more wary of this man¡¯s expression than his weapon. ¡°What have we here? Wandered away from the hospice, have you?¡± He drawled. Isaac watched nervously as the leonine man¡¯s lackeys surrounded him. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t trouble the Healers¡­especially Riselda.¡± A heavy hand clasped his shoulder from behind. ¡°Shall we bring ''im back, boss?¡± ¡°That was what I was intending to do. After all, ¡®tis a good deed, is it not?¡± The blonde man retorted. Isaac could only watch nervously and let himself be steered back to his place of residence. He knew Farah was not in, as she had left to restock the herb supplies. In short, it was most likely that this man and Riselda would meet. Indeed, when they reached the Hospice, Isaac briefly saw Riselda¡¯s face at the window. It disappeared and the door opened, revealing the Healer apprentice. The tips of her mouth were pulling downward in a scowl as she saw the blond man. Then, she turned her gaze on Isaac. He saw her expression blacken even further in resentment. He could only cast his eyes downwards, unwilling to meet that awful gaze. ¡°Hello, dear Riselda!¡± He heard the blond man greet cheerfully. ¡°We happened on this wayward patient of yours in the village. Now we return him into your tender care!¡± ¡°Good afternoon. Malcolm.¡± Riselda¡¯s reply was flat with displeasure. ¡°I suppose I should thank you then.¡± She walked closer, artfully dodging Malcolm¡¯s too-casual swipe of his hand. She swatted off the hand grasping Isaac¡¯s shoulder and replaced it with her own iron grip. ¡°Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have a job to do.¡± She pulled him away, none too gently. A sudden fit of harsh coughing suddenly erupted from within the Hospice, causing Riselda to suddenly release Isaac from her grip and rush back in the door. This left all of them to stand around awkwardly. Riselda reappeared in a rush, a satchel thrown over her shoulder and a small sickle at her waist. Worry and alarm had tightened her face. ¡°Move! It¡¯s an emergency!¡± she shouted, before Isaac¡¯s wrist and getting right into his face. ¡°You. I won¡¯t have you running off again, you understand?¡± She snarled. Isaac stared helplessly in the face of her fury. She whirled and dragged him down the path past Malcolm and his lackeys. ¡°Hold there, what is going on?¡± came Malcolm voice as he briskly walked up beside them. ¡°Go away, Malcolm! I don¡¯t have time to waste on you!¡± Riselda shot back. ¡°Are you going out of the village?¡± Malcolm asked as he craned his neck to look around. Isaac could see that Riselda was definitely heading out of Thistle at a very rapid pace. ¡°Here now, it¡¯s dangerous outside, what with all the monsters and Unborn. You¡¯ll need our protection!¡± While saying so, he grinned and slapped the hilt of his sword. Riselda let out a cry of frustration. ¡°Gods¡¯ Blood! Do what you want then! Someone¡¯s life is danger!¡± Isaac felt a sudden sense of foreboding in his gut. This won¡¯t end well at all¡­ ---------------------- What had started out as a good day was turning out to be utter misery. Isaac was burdened with a growing armload of various herbs and mushrooms while Riselda scampered up and down trees, rocks and undergrowth with a businesslike efficiency, her sickle flashing in crisp clean cuts. However, it was not the fact that he was being used as a pack mule that weighed on his spirit, but the quiet words the Healer¡¯s apprentice had spoken on the way to this section of the Briarweald. ¡°You¡¯re nothing but trouble.¡± She muttered, her back as stiff as a board as the group journeyed on. ¡°I can¡¯t stand people like you. So greedy for power you¡¯ll pay any price and overreach yourself. It¡¯s the same every time¡­all your ilk end up doing is to make things so much worse.¡± She made a sound of disgust. ¡°Why am I even telling you this? You can¡¯t even understand half of what I¡¯m saying, can you?¡± Saying so, she widened her pace, outdistancing Isaac and shrugging off Malcolm¡¯s wandering hand for the umpteenth time. Riselda¡¯s animosity was hurtful and confusing. But she was partially right. This was kind of his fault. No matter how it happened, he was still being a burden to Farah and Riselda. Malcolm¡¯s henchmen had spread out to keep watch over the area. Even though Malcolm¡¯s motives were pretty transparent, he still limited himself to occasionally trying to start up small talk with the catgirl. No matter how much he smiled and swaggered, though, Riselda studiously ignored his advances. Even though none of them were adventurers or soldiers, they, with the sole exception of Isaac, had grown up among the trees. Every Alfar there kept a good watch on both the ground and the branches. Unfortunately, that habit did not help them when a monster burst from the ground and killed one of them outright. ¡°GYAAAA-¡± The scream was cut off mid-sound by a wet crack as the man¡¯s neck broke between the jaws of his attacker. Everyone had turned towards the noise, just in time to see one of their number lose his life. Isaac felt all the strength leave his knees. He collapsed onto his rear, his load of medicine scattering onto the forest floor. The monster prowling slowly towards them looked like it had no skin, all its purplish-red flesh exposed to the air. Its muscles bulged in odd places, with a long and narrow head full of haphazardly grown fangs. It had an oddly grown collection of opaque eyes that rolled in their sockets. A whip-like tail lashed at the ground, tearing chunks of dirt loose. It was an abomination sewn together by a mad creator with nothing but slaughter to its purpose. ¡°U-u-u-unborn!¡± someone stammered. Everyone was frozen to the spot in fear at the hideous sight of this thing. It screeched at them, causing everyone to recoil. ¡°Run! Run!¡± a voice shouted. Isaac turned his head to see Malcolm and his lackeys turn tail and flee. Riselda was staring in disbelief at their cowardice, before snapping her gaze at Isaac. He was closer to the beast than she was. If she ran, then Isaac would die. On the ground, Isaac felt his heart hammer in his chest. The Unborn was a terrifying sight. It was growling and he smelt the terrible stench of decaying flesh from it. He was vainly trying to convince himself that this was a game, but a horrifying thought wormed its way into him. What would happen if he died? If this was a game, then he would probably respawn somewhere. But how certain was that to happen? He hadn¡¯t even worked out how he was in this game-like world. Should he die, would he be expelled back into the featureless black space, never to return? That fate frightened him more than dying. The Unborn crouched, about to pounce. Isaac curled up around himself, a whimper of fear escaping his throat. However, he saw Riselda¡¯s eyes widen and she spun around, running as fast as she could. A shadow passed over him as the Unborn leapt over his body and pursued the catgirl instead. Isaac was frozen in stunned disbelief, watching the monster pursue the girl instead of his helpless form. Its jaws bit down, lightning quick, and seized the girl¡¯s calf out of the air. Riselda screamed in horrified agony. ¡°Aaaah! Help me! Anyone, please help!¡± She slashed the Unborn around its mouth with her sickle, but failed to do any damage. Seeing how useless her attacks were, she stopped and began stammering something in another language. However, even this failed to do anything, as all it did was cause a burst of weak flame to spurt aimlessly from her hand. Tears began to stream from her despairing eyes as the Unborn began to bite down harder. To Isaac, her sobbing was suddenly overlaid with the voice of his sister. ¡°Please! Please don¡¯t hurt me!¡± It washed away all the fear in his mind. What was he doing? He was useless again! Someone was going to be hurt because he didn¡¯t do anything again! Almost without thinking it, Isaac had stood up and hurled himself at the beast, screaming wordlessly. He landed on its back, causing it to yelp in surprise and release Riselda¡¯s leg from its jaws. Scrabbling for a good grip, he clawed away. Something popped under his fingers and coated it in wet goop and the Unborn screamed so loud it deafened Isaac. The Unborn bucked and leaped under him. His grip was tenuous at best, so it was not long before he was thrown off. He felt weightless before something hard slammed into his back. He did not even hit the floor before a vice clamped down on his midriff. The Unborn had Isaac in its jaws. It hurt. And yet, the pain was not so bad that Isaac could not move. He had his hands gripped on either side of the monster¡¯s jaw. However, he was too weak to push them apart. The abomination shook its head with such speed that Isaac¡¯s vision blurred. He saw a red bar in a corner of his eye that plummeted rapidly. This was the end. Isaac was about to die. He choked in agony as the Unborn¡¯s maw crushed him tighter and tighter¡­ There was the sound of the earth breaking and wood cracking. A rush of green flitted by and Isaac landed on the floor, driving the teeth of the Unborn deeper into his wounds. Cracking open an eye, he saw that the head of the monster still clamped around him. The rest was torn away, held in the coils of a massive serpent made of roots and vines. The name floating above it read <>. It had its fangs buried in the Unborn¡¯s body. With a jerk, it squeezed tight. Stinking liquid gushed out and splattered everywhere. Isaac let his head fall back bonelessly against the ground. Just before his eyelids closed, he saw the horned figure of Kiernan approach. And Isaac slept. [td3]New Skill Discovered! Pain Resistance Lvl.1 (Passive) Agony is no stranger to you. Your have learned to dull pain instinctively and keep moving to avoid the worst of damage. [/td3]
Synchronizing Experience...
Pain Resistance lvl.1 -> Lvl. 9 Experience Synchronized! Skill increased!
------------------ When he awoke, he was once again staring at a familiar ceiling. This time, though, Kiernan was already sitting next to his bed. Isaac drowsily regarded the Druid¡¯s kindly expression as a thought floated up from within. Ah, he reminds me of Grandfather¡­ ¡°How are you feeling, lad?¡± He asked. ¡°Here, drink this medicine.¡± Kiernan handed him a wooden bowl filled with a dark liquid that smelt strongly of herbs. Isaac grimaced in distaste and gulped it down. He shuddered at the horrid aftertaste, but his drowsiness receded. He blinked as several icons he had not noticed disappeared, in the same general area as where his HP bar usually was. He also noticed a tiny chevron bobbing up and down next to his name. It seems that he had levelled up. He turned his attention back to Kiernan. ¡°T-Thank you¡­¡± He said, feeling the words come more smoothly. "Everyone...fine?" Kiernan shook his head solemnly. "It was too late for one of you. Nobody else died and the herbs were delivered in time to save a life. Then, he pointed with his thumb over at the foot of bed. ¡°Look here. You might be surprised.¡± Isaac looked and was surprised indeed. Riselda was sleeping face down at the table. A scattered pile of dirty bowls, rags and empty glass bottles was strewn all over the surface of the tablecloth. ¡°The lass has been taking good care of you. She felt guilty that you got hurt saving her, you see.¡± ¡°Um¡­I didn¡¯t¡­do much.¡± Isaac admitted, his words halting. ¡°I was¡­useless...¡± Kiernan¡¯s face grew stern. ¡°You did enough. She could very easily be dead. Even though I sensed the Unborn Rothound¡¯s presence when it appeared, I was still very far away when it happened. That is the danger of these abominations; they can spawn from anywhere. Riselda survived because you managed to distract the monster in time!¡± ¡°¡­Yes, but¡­I should have¡­done better.¡± The Druid leaned back and silence fell for some time. ¡°I have an idea, of sorts.¡± Kiernan stated, his voice soft. ¡°You see, I suspect that you have a hidden power that has nothing to do with the Leystones.¡± Isaac¡¯s brows furrowed in confusion before he realized what the Druid may be referring to. ¡°The land has been astir with stories about people who appeared out of thin air after the meteor shower one week ago. These ¡®Star-people¡¯ may appear to be normal folk, but they grow stronger with unbelievable speed. I suspect that you are one of them.¡± Under Kiernan¡¯s intense gaze, Isaac could only shiver. ¡°W-What are you¡­?¡± ¡°Calm down, lad.¡± Came the reply. ¡°I just want to know; will you be my apprentice?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t¡­understand.¡± Isaac asked. ¡°I will teach you rune-lore. In addition, I will also arrange for you to attend both warrior and magic training for self-defense. We¡¯ll start from there and see if you have talent in either of those things. You think you are weak? Then we shall do something about it. What say you?¡± Isaac saw nothing but sincerity in Kiernan¡¯s face. This is what he needed. With the Unborn and other monsters out there, he needed a way to prevail over them. Dying was too much of a risk. ¡°¡­Yes. I accept.¡± Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Katherine Walker looked down at the Dive-Set (a.k.a D-set) cradled in her hands, deep in her own thoughts. This helmet was exactly like the one she had strapped to her brother¡¯s head. If she put it on, she would be able to access the game installed in the main console nearby. She could start looking for Isaac and see his face once more. And finally, finally she could apologize for the pain she had caused. Maybe she was being bullheaded or just plain stupid, but nobody she talked to ever convinced her that what happened six years ago was not her fault. She still saw the moment her brother fell into a coma, in her nightmares. If she didn¡¯t take sleeping pills, she¡¯d see that moment and wake up crying again. A deep, dark part of her was glad for those nightmares. It was a reminder to never, ever forgive that man for destroying her family. In her opinion, there was never a Katherine Gunther. She was a Walker and proud of it. But some of that burning hate was spilled onto herself. If she had done better on that test, then maybe Isaac would be sitting next to her right now, trying this very game together. Her feelings regarding the events last week were still mixed. On one hand, she had successfully provoked a reaction out of her comatose brother, putting any discussion about pulling the plug on his life support to an abrupt halt. She would not see him die and know that she would never be forgiven. But on the other hand, the doctors had very firmly drilled into her head the possibilities of what could have happened if things had gone wrong. There were consequences that had made her turn green with dread, one of the which involved total brain death. Kat was aware that her brother had suffered minor brain damage from the blow to the head so long ago and it had devastated her when she first found out. If she had murdered her own brother while trying to help then she might gone utterly insane afterwards. She had to admit to herself that her emotional state had not been exactly stable when she cooked up that half-baked plan to save Isaac. Although she had gone for counselling sessions for a few years, she had pretended to be farther on the road to recovery than she actually was. She only did it because her mother was straining to make ends meet with all the bills she had to pay. Kat had been forced to watch her Mom¡¯s health slowly wither away as she bounced between two different jobs, only returning home late at night. So, she learned to fake a cheerful attitude and blamed her eyebags on last-minute studying. It got even easier to fool everyone once she was allowed to use makeup. Then, as years passed with no sign of improvement in her brother¡¯s condition, resentment began to bloom towards the medical sector. She began to nurse a suspicion that they were milking her family for money, even though she herself had decided to study medicine in hopes that one day, she would be able to do something about Isaac¡¯s coma. This started her on the track of pursuing alternate methods of curing coma patients. The rest is history. She was not able to give anybody an answer as to why she would believe such vague rumors. In the end, she was signed up to counselling again. One of the good things that came out of the whole mess was that the hospital had to consult with WORLDTREE about any potential dangers their D-set console might pose to Isaac. Once they were made aware of this situation, they came to the Walkers and offered to pay for the medical fees out of their own pocket. Kat was cynically certain that both the company and the hospital were quietly gathering data, treating this case as impromptu medical experiment. The possibility that this might be the very solution to waking her brother helped her to keep that particular opinion to herself. Surprisingly enough, the WORLDTREE reps - an average-looking man and a pretty woman - requested a meeting with both her and her mother after negotiations with the hospital were done. They had given each of them a D-set along with a copy of Myth/Real Online. When asked for the reason why they were given these things, they replied; ¡°It¡¯s possible that Isaac Walker may be inside the game right now. We can¡¯t confirm it at this moment, but we will record the model number of the console and use that to track down which particular ID he is using. We¡¯ll be able to tell then.¡± ¡°Wait, if it¡¯s that simple then why don¡¯t you pull it up right now?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not really as simple as I make it sound like. Even if we do have the most advanced computers in the industry, most of the computing power is dedicated to running the game. Myth/Real is so huge that we need to comb through immense amounts of data just to find one person, let alone know what he is doing. That¡¯s also why we have GMs and a player report system as a precaution against in-game crimes. It¡¯s still going to take us a week at minimum to find your brother." The woman smiled, not unkindly. "Look, if you¡¯re willing to wait a little longer, though, we can give you not only his location, but also his in-game appearance. Please understand that we¡¯re only permitted this action just this once due to the circumstances. Normally, we would simply log him out of the game, but the doctors are advising against it because that may do something we can''t reverse.¡± ¡°Y-Yeah. They¡¯ve already told us about that. Nothing like has happened before, so¡­¡± ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, you have my sympathy, Ms. Walker. For now, we can allow all of you to reunite in-game. It¡¯s the least we could do until something better comes up.¡± There was really no other option than to put aside her misgivings and wait for further information. Even so, Kat was not going to remain idle for all this time. She had already decided to play Myth/Real Online whenever she had the time. She had given more thought about it all and came to the conclusion that there was a worrying possibility that Isaac would not recognize them even if they created avatars that were carbon copies of their real appearances. She had to be prepared that her brother might need some convincing to accept them. She had learned her lesson. No more half-baked ideas. She needed to plan thoroughly and execute that plan decisively. With that thought, Kat put the headset on and lay back on her bed. Her finger found the (CONNECT/ON) switch and pushed it. Katherine Walker has entered the game. ---------------- Thistle Isaac peered through the borrowed loupe, carefully scrutinizing the rune sequence he had just finished carving. His right hand, which held a silver runecarver¡¯s stylus, gently dug into the iron. He felt a pull in his fingers as he carefully put the last touches on the ¡®Ray¡¯ Rune. He put the stylus down and placed his hand flat on the thin sheet of iron. With a little effort, he let his magic flow and bathed the piece of metal with his magic, ¡®setting¡¯ the enchantment. Picking the iron sheet up, Isaac activated the runes, causing the entire thing to glow like a flashlight. He waved it around, watching as the light cast a rectangular spot the size of the sheet on anything it landed on. With a sigh of relief, Isaac de-activated the iron¡¯s runic enchantment and placed it back onto the table.
Runecarver Apprenticeship
Druid Kiernan, your Runecarving master, shall test your skills! Complete a Rune Sequence that incorporates [Five] Runes total with [Three] Intermediate Runes! 3 Intermediate Runes - Complete
  • [Control] Rune
  • [Face] Rune
  • [Ray] Rune
5 Runes - Complete
Task Complete! Submit your work to Advance to Apprentice Runecarver!
Absently, Isaac closed the notification screen. That message told him nothing new. He had already memorized the basic elemental runes, so when the Druid handed him three new runes with more abstract meanings and effects, Isaac already guessed that he was being prepared for more advanced studies. At the same time, he was experimenting with different rune combinations he had come up with on a whim. It had been almost two weeks since the Rothound attack and Isaac had been busy for almost every hour since then. True to his word, Kiernan had put him into training with Thistle¡¯s Man-at-Arms, a hulking Poukha named Nils O¡¯Farr, who could not be described as anything other than a bear walking on its hind legs. Only his five-fingered hands and slightly different lower body structure even hinted at his Svartalfar origins. Clad in heavy half-plate armor and wielding a massive two-handed sword, the man imposed discipline by his sheer presence alone. Nobody sane wanted to piss off a giant bear who could and did casually lop trees in half with a single strike. Isaac was also introduced to Sage Ulrym, a human mage from the Adventurer¡¯s Guild who had chosen to set up the one magic shop in Thistle. The old woman was primarily an alchemist, but she did not get to her rank merely by academic efforts. She often collected her own ingredients, which involved exploring very dangerous places. Currently, she was enjoying a vacation from adventuring and store-ownership alike, leaving the day-to-day business in the capable hands of her former apprentice. Isaac ended up waking up early in the morning to train at Thistle¡¯s barracks until the afternoon. After lunch, he would head to Ulrym¡¯s shop and attend private tuition with the Sage herself. At night, he would head back to the Hospice and Kiernan would share his runecarving tools while they worked together on enchantment and repair of magical items. The lessons only ended late at night. Isaac was thankful that his body was a virtual avatar, or he would surely be utterly exhausted at the end of each day. At the beginning, Kiernan mentioned that he signed Isaac up for two entirely different courses for self-defence so that they could see which one he favored the most. Three days later, the Druid was most amused to receive glowing reports from both teachers almost at the same time. Isaac was actually quite conflicted about it. The problem was that he needed combat training and he liked learning magic. Nils was terrifying to behold, but he was always fair and never raised his voice in anger. Patiently, he corrected each mistake his students made and attended to them all equally. Ulrym was cranky and exacting in her standards, but she was incredibly knowledgeable and had a wicked wit in class, often punctuating her lessons with personal anecdotes and dry humor while using her own youthful misadventures as precautionary tales. Isaac¡¯s memories only ever had teachers who were burnt out, or barely showed interest in their students. His father was always disappointed and angry no matter what his scores were. His Mom did praise his effort, but it always felt hollow after his father¡¯s disapproval. Isaac found himself dreading the thought of letting either one of his teachers down now, should he tell them that he was withdrawing from their lessons. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. So, he had told Kiernan with as much passion as he could muster that he wanted to continue with both. The Druid merely laughed and said, ¡°If you are so eager, who am I to refuse? Besides, you barely look winded at all at the end of day! If only I was as energetic as you are when I was your age¡­¡± A parched feeling in his throat, accompanied with a little icon popping up above his health bar, jolted him out of his musings and warned him to quench his thirst. After checking the jug on his table and finding it empty, he slipped out of his room to refill it from a barrel of boiled water in the kitchen. On the way back he saw Riselda, also with jug in hand. Given that his new room was next to hers, he should have seen her more often if she had not been avoiding him recently. He caught a glimpse shock on her face before it shifted to a complicated expression. Riselda hurried past him, face lowered and with a quiet ¡°Excuse me¡± trailing in her wake. Isaac had no idea what she was thinking these days. She no longer gave off a cold vibe, but there was a strange tension whenever they interacted and she seemed unwilling to stay too long around him. It was a little hurtful that she would still treat him this way, but there was not really anything he could do about it. Thinking so, Isaac put this event behind him and went back to his room to sleep. ---------------------- Happy times do not last. That is a fundamental rule of the world. Isaac had overlooked this rule in his single-minded pursuit of skills, just like he overlooked the mood of the other trainees in the barracks. At first, he had been a novelty. The lackwit? Training to fight? It was a laughable concept. Even if every trainee was only allowed to handle a dulled wooden blade, it was almost certain that the witless fool would hurt himself for their amusement. Then the so-called lackwit actually showed up for training. At first, they had been laughing as they had expected. Within three weeks that laughter was silenced. He had gone from inept to their level at a frightening pace, along with a body that seemed to be blessed with unending endurance. ¡®Who is he?¡¯ someone had asked. ¡®Isaac. His name is Isaac¡¯. Another person had replied. Near total derision turned into a mess of differing opinions. There was quite a bit of shame to go around, along with alarm at his frightening rate of improvement. Some whom were silently reserving judgement had changed their stance to cautiously approving in respect to his earnest effort. However, there were those who saw such progress and could not help but nurse envy in their hearts. From envy, anger and contempt grew. This was the environment that Malcolm, Riselda''s unwanted suitor, entered into. He, the Alderman¡¯s son. Once the ruler of his own little kingdom here in the straw of the barracks training grounds. He returned from his ''family visit'' missing his prized sword as well a large chunk of his once-great reputation. His charisma could not completely cover up the rumors of cowardice. No matter how much his followers swore up and down that he had fought off the Unborn and broke his sword in the process, there was no hiding the heated scorn that the very girl he was wooing sent in his direction every time she saw him. There was no way to prove his story true or false as Unborn corpses faded into light soon after their deaths. However, in the barracks, there suddenly appeared one person who knew the truth. Riselda was rather infamous in Thistle for being utterly frigid to anyone she was not familiar with. But the newest trainee had no such reputation. What was more, people were beginning to doubt that he was truly a lackwit anymore. Even among the Alfar, gossip was a national sport¡­and there was a prime source just right there. This was why Malcolm¡¯s face paled the moment he laid eyes on Isaac. This was also why the look in his eye grew venomous, under the shade of his blonde hair. Quietly, Malcolm gathered the disquiet. ¡®Let¡¯s bring him down a notch¡¯ was his honeyed whisper. Isaac was not aware of any of this, focused utterly on his lessons. That was why he was completely blindsided by the ambush set by his fellow trainees. His arms were seized and he was lifted off the ground by taller, brawnier youths who wore ugly smiles. They quickly carried him to a nearby clearing in the forest. Isaac had no weapon to use outside of training, so he lashed out with kicks as he struggled in their grasp. After he successfully hooked a foot into the soft inside of a knee, he twisted out of the hold only for another one of his captors to slam her fist into his face with a crack. Stars bloomed in his sight and he staggered back into waiting arms. He was thrown on the ground in front of golden-haired, leonine Malcolm. There were no threats, nor was there an order from the ringleader. Isaac had no time to open his mouth before the beating began. He was kicked, punched and smashed by branches in a ring of jeering young men and women. And there on a stump Malcolm sat, watching in silence, a smug smile on his face. Eventually, they grew tired. Isaac lay face-down on the ground, twitching weakly. A hand seized by his hair and drew his head up roughly. ¡°You know, I have so many reasons for doing this.¡± Malcolm whispered menacingly. ¡°You aren¡¯t a lackwit after all, so you could guess a few of them, hmm? Let me drill a few of it into your skull.¡± He slammed Isaac¡¯s face in to the dirt. ¡°Don¡¯t say anything about the Unborn. You can¡¯t prove it anyway.¡± Lift. Slam. ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯re better than me. I¡¯ve had several years to polish my skills. You¡¯re scum. You¡¯ll always be scum.¡± Lift. Slam. ¡°Hands off Riselda. Forever. She is mine. She will always be mine.¡± The hand let go of Isaac¡¯s hair. A boot stomped onto the back of his skull. He choked into the dirt as his hands scrabbled for escape. Just as his consciousness began to fade, the pressure lifted, leaving Isaac to gasp weakly for life-giving air. The last sliver of his health bar pulsed red under his eyelids. He did not hear Malcolm and his thugs leave. It took him almost two hours to summon the strength to move. By that time, Ulrym had gotten worried and sent a message to both the Hospice and the barracks, asking for his whereabouts. Isaac staggered his way back to the village, only dimly aware of where he was going. His face was almost untouched, save for the twin trails of blood from each nostril. The rest of him was a mass of pain under his padded trainee¡¯s armor. ¡°Isaac? Oh, gods! Isaac!¡± Someone¡¯s arms steadied him. He blinked blearily, recognizing Riselda¡¯s face after a few long seconds. They went straight back to the Hospice. ------------------- Isaac sat as still as he could, while Riselda dipped the brush back into the pot of {Wound Salve}. He was only half-dressed at the moment. His body was so bruised that the parts that were skin were ugly splotches of yellow, red and purple. It was a horrid sight that gave Riselda pause when she first saw it. With each careful stroke of the brush, his health bar grew bit by bit. ¡°¡­Ah? This is peculiar.¡± Riselda commented from behind him. ¡°P-Peculiar?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Um¡­is something wrong?¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just¡­you¡¯re healing before my very eyes. Master Kiernan already told me that Star-people had miraculous constitutions that healed with potions and salves just as easily as any spell. Seeing it in person is quite startling.¡± She explained. Isaac felt that this was the longest speech he had heard from her. ¡°Ah. Um. Okay.¡± He answered lamely. ¡°Didn¡¯t you heal me back then? After the¡­Unborn?¡± Riselda hesitated. ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one that healed you first. Master Kiernan restored you with his magic before bringing you back to the Hospice. All I did was-¡± She fell silent. ¡°You still looked after me. Thank you.¡± Isaac replied. He had wanted to say that for quite some time now. It was a weight lifted off his shoulders. ¡°¡­Ah? N-No thanks are necessary. It was¡­my duty.¡± Riselda looked away. A hint of shame was on her face. This was the scene that Kiernan the Druid walked into. He stood in the doorway, surprise written large on his face. A wide, benevolent grin replaced it and he said. ¡°Oh, my most sincere apologies. I do believe I¡¯m intruding!¡± He stepped backwards through the doorway. ¡°Don¡¯t mind this old man and carry on¡­¡± Riselda shot the Druid a glare. ¡°Excuse me, Master Druid. Are you implying that I am anything less than professional?¡± She demanded frostily. ¡°Hm, well, that blushing face of yours is rather hard to miss.¡± Came the mild reply. The brush dropped from her fingers as the catgirl¡¯s hands shot up to her face, only to stop, twitching, just before contact. ¡°W-wait! This is a trick!¡± ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Kiernan admitted. ¡°Your tail, not your face, is the one betraying you.¡± He pointed lazily at the appendage flailing behind her. She shrieked and threw the bowl of medicinal salve at the Druid, who escaped into the hallway with hearty laughter. Riselda, flushed crimson, pursued him. Isaac was left sitting stock still on the chair, still slathered with paste. He cocked his head in confusion. ¡°Uh¡­so do I finish putting this on myself?¡± ----------------------------- After that bit of play-fighting, Riselda returned to the room, her brows still drawn together in a frown and her posture stiff. Kiernan, who had accompanied her, was utterly fine and still had that infernal grin on his face. Isaac looked little glum. Riselda had been friendlier to him than before, but the old man had to ruin the moment. The Druid¡¯s expression sobered, however, when he unslung the wrapped bundle on his back and dropped it onto the table. Flinging the cloth back, it revealed a very familiar sword. Riselda¡¯s eyes widened, then narrowed. ¡°This is Malcolm¡¯s precious sword, isn¡¯t it?¡± She inquired. ¡°Indeed. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled across this on my patrols.¡± Kiernan answered sagely. ¡°Now, I might be going senile, but I seem to recall Malcolm claiming that this weapon was broken in a fight against a certain Unborn.¡± ¡°A liar and a coward. How shocking.¡± Riselda commented, her tone utterly dry. ¡°The Unborn may not have left a corpse, but this is damning proof indeed.¡± Kiernan mused gravely. ¡°Words are cheap. If we show this, he is doomed with no recourse.¡± Riselda gave a thin, razor-sharp smile. ¡°Well now, may I have this honour, Master Kiernan?¡± ¡°¡­Um, Wait.¡± Isaac spoke up, eyeing the blade. Two pairs of eyes turned on him. Isaac swallowed hard. ¡°N-Not yet. I know he can¡¯t get away with lying, but¡­¡± He took a deep breath. He clenched his teeth. He made his hands into fists. ¡°Riselda, are you willing to wait just a bit longer? I want to beat him first.¡± He looked up into their eyes. ¡°I must. I¡¯m sorry. I have to beat him on my own. I can¡¯t keep relying on other people. This way, he won¡¯t have any excuses...and that goes for myself too.¡± Isaac¡¯s words tumbled out of him in a rush, leaving him breathless. Riselda¡¯s gave him a long look, frowning ¡°¡­Okay, I will not pretend to know what you¡¯re trying to prove, but it¡¯s just as personal for you as it is for me. I can wait for a bit.¡± She conceded in the end. Kiernan said nothing, his expression neutral. ¡°I-I won¡¯t disappoint you!¡± Isaac promised. He still felt an echo of that booted foot pushing his face down into the dirt. It was more humiliating than anything he had ever felt before. Even if he did not understand that last part about Riselda, he was just plain fed up with meekly bowing his head. Mom was not here. Kat was not here. The person he had to fight for now was himself. No more failing. From now on, I want to win! He swore it both out loud and in the silence of his heart. Arc 1 Interlude - The Melancholy of Riselda Interlude Riselda, the Healer¡¯s apprentice, sat in the windowsill of her room. She sat in the light of the moonlit forest . Eyes gazing at a hidden horizon. Yes, that was all she was now, wasn¡¯t she. The Healer¡¯s apprentice. She certainly reached her goal. Such a meager, hapless goal. A week ago, she was not happy, but content. Satisfied with her village life. What use did she have for power? What use for riches? Neither of them were of any help that time so long ago. In fact, they were the very root of the nightmarish tragedy that ended her childhood. She had a last name once. Riselda Laina Carnolian. Born to minor nobility, the Carnolian family. Her father was Marquis Bartholemew, her mother Marquiess Iseult and three older brothers besides. They lived among the outer fringe of Mercia, the Svartalfar capital in the Kingswood. It was prime estate, being so close to both the Royal Palace and the great Kingstones, the massive ring of standing stones that was the grand monument to Druidism. It was her family¡¯s ambition to rise even further among the ranks of the Royal Court, a goal shared by every other noble regardless of rank. Almost immediately after she could walk, she had carefully prepared by her parents to dive into those fast-flowing rapids. They hired the best tutors they could afford with their wealth, same as every one of her brothers. She was loved, but her parents were distant at best. Their attentions needed to be fixed on the currents of the political stream lest they be swallowed whole by the bigger fish lurking in the depths. It was, perhaps, the greatest way their parents showed their love. That still made it a little lonely in the manor, even with all their servants and guards. Of course, as nobles, they too could be called upon to serve the Crown in martial capacity. More was demanded of them, in fact, than the ranks of commoners. The common-born soldier could be anything from a fresh-faced farmer wielding a pitchfork to a hardened adventurer clad in magic armor, clasping an equally enchanted weapon in her fist. A noble had to be a trained combatant and an inspiring leader and an adequate strategist to boot. As a result, every single one of her family was either trained classically as a knight or as a mage. She herself had quite a talent in magic. By the age of eight, she was already casting fireballs and throwing javelins of ice at straw dummies. She was quite proud of herself. So were her parents and brothers and tutors. Everybody seemed to shower her in praise then. ¡­Such hollow happiness can breed foul things in the heart. With all that space to grow, the signs are well-hidden. Her brothers always competed fiercely among themselves. Her second-eldest, Nolan, was the only one of them who was a mage. He too was talented, and he created a pair of magic glasses that allowed him to identify curses and enchantments with but a glance. He wore them everywhere to show them off, even though he had perfectly clear eyesight. He thought it made him look distinguished and in truth, it did. Her brother¡¯s creations were always delightfully intricate things inspired by Dokkalfar art. This was one of the things that galled the youngest brother, who was neither a mage like Nolan nor a powerful knight like their eldest brother. He began to nurse a secret fear that he was doomed to fade into obscurity, squashed into nothing between his brothers and his own sister. With the passing of years, that brother¡¯s fear grew into a frightful monstrosity. Who could say what drove him in the end? Rage? Desperation? Envy? All those things and more, she suspected. Whatever the motive, the end result was horrifying all the same. It was a family tradition for the Carnolians to travel to their summer mansion out in the remote outer reaches of the Kingswood to celebrate the twelfth birthdays of each child. Riselda had laughed with glee as each one of her family brought out a present each for her. Nolan, dear sweet Nolan, made a gift of his precious spectacles. He had made himself another one, he said. It was better to gift away his original pair. ¡®It is precious, so it makes for a better gift¡¯, he said as he pressed it into her tiny hands. Faced with the next gift, nobody was laughing. Who would want a Demon as a gift? ¡°A birthday song, everyone! One by one, they all fall down-¡± One by one, her family each fell to the hellish beast and the thing that had once been their own kin. In the end, only Riselda was left alive. Through selfless sacrifice of her family and her own combat spells, she escaped the mansion with the kinslayer¡¯s voice ringing in her ears. Outside, a contingent of knights, paladins and clerics had just arrived in response to the foul taint of a demonic summoning. In the roar and clash of battle, Riselda Laina Carnolian vanished and was never heard from again. In the rural village of Thistle, a young girl revisited the memory of a monster as it screamed and cried. It raged at its powerlessness before abruptly cackling in glee. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Look, how powerful I am now! This is the fruits of my labor! Am I not strong? FATHER, LOOK AT ME-----! Happy birthday, dear Riselda~!¡± From then on, she scorned idiots like that who blindly grasped for power. Reaching beyond your grasp¡­what good does it bring? It only invites evil upon oneself and the people all around you. She dropped everything that was her past and let herself be taken under the wing of a Hospice matron and her little band of helpers. She devoted herself to this benevolent work. She tried her best to move on and kept to herself. However, there were still obstacles even there. The village Alderman¡¯s son took quite a shine to her for some unfathomable reason and began to shove himself into her life. It quite tested her patience sometimes. Of all the girls in the village, why her? Malcolm was growing into a quite serious problem lately, so much so that she avoided leaving the Hospice for any period of time. Even so, she felt that she was making a good life in the village. If need be, she was confident she could make a pointed objection should Malcolm advance from a problem to a threat. A simple solution to a simple problem. Then, a stone was dropped into this still pond of a life. A youth was discovered lying just outside the Leystone Circle near Thistle. He was so weak he hung on the edge of life and death. Alarmed at his condition, the villagers who found him swiftly carried him to the Hospice for treatment. Her heart went out to him at first, but then Druid Kiernan arrived and diagnosed his illness. He was exactly like her late brother. Just another fool who took the easy way to power without considering the price. It really took all kinds, she thought. Her brother had, admittedly, looked a little shifty, but this boy was a far cry from wicked in appearance. Even with the dark, orderly lines that supposedly marked his contact with the Leylines, he looked almost utterly harmless. He was a Dog Poukha of the northern blood, with upright, triangular ears. If he did not have that vacant look in his wide eyes he might look hopelessly na?ve, perhaps a little unintelligent. Finding out that the Leystones took his wits gave her a sense of vicious satisfaction. A fool granted power at the cost of all means to use it. Truly, a fitting punishment indeed. That satisfaction soured in her bosom later on, when she found out that his wits were returning, and quickly. It felt like a slap in her face. Still, she would do her job as a Hospice attendant and see to his recovery. She need not know his name. Once he was gone, she could forget him and regain her peace of mind. Then she faced an Unborn. Trolls? Ogres? Undead? What were those? Mere monsters paled in the face of an existence that only knew how to kill. She realised her own foolishness in the face of death, at the mercy of Unborn fangs. Evil cares not one is a pacifist or not. Blood flows all the same. All those years, she disdained her own magic. It was a reminder of her brother and his lust for power. In absence of usage, it had withered to almost nothing. Her attempt to summon fire, once effortless, was garbled to uselessness in between her teeth. She was drained even by such a minor failure. Where was the twelve-year-old girl that once carved a road from the Kingswood to Briarweald? She had the strength to defy fate. How had she been foolish enough to let herself fade from budding mage to damsel in distress? So humiliating! Ah, she had always been strong. She had never truly known the agony of the powerless until this moment. Then she got saved by somebody who was even weaker than she was. No magic. No weapon. Not even fully in grasp of his own damned mind. And yet he leapt on something that could rip him apart in seconds and took its eye, albeit by accident. The Unborn released her and Kiernan arrived, putting the Rothound down with almost contemptuous ease. ¡­It scalded her on the inside. She was wrong all this time. Power and strength was never the problem. It was the person wielding it that mattered the most. She had this lesson shoved down her throat. Evil existed independent of power, as did Good. Without someone or something to enforce them, they were worthless. Therefore, she was quite worthless indeed. She held up a hand. Magic flowed and ice formed. It was slow. So slow. If Malcolm busted into her room this very moment and pushed her down, she didn¡¯t think she could form it fast enough to make a difference. She clenched her fist and shattered the half-formed icicle into slush and snow. This will not stand. Riselda Laina Carnolian will not let this mistake continue. ¡°I won¡¯t disappoint myself.¡± She swore, out loud and amidst the turmoil in her heart. Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Makroun¡¯s Gulch ¨C Grade 3 Dungeon Two friends lay bonelessly on the stone, their weapons thrown haphazardly aside. ¡°Oh gaawwwwd, kill me now¡­¡± ¡°¡­It burns. Why does it buuuuuuurn---?¡± Pitiful groans floated from them. A short, silver-haired Half-Dwarf lazily twisted her head to fix a bleary glare on her Dark Elf friend. ¡°Yoouuuu¡­I¡¯m never listening to you again. ¡®It¡¯ll be easy!¡¯ you said¡­ ¡®It¡¯s just a short dungeon!¡¯ you said!¡± CountessNaga, the Dark Elf Arcanist, just whimpered. ¡°Uuuu¡­I¡¯m so sorry. How should I have known this place was hell? We¡¯re the first ones to discover it!¡± ¡°Ha. Haha¡­¡± The Half-Dwarf, Millia, laughed sheepishly. ¡°Ugh, no. I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t be blaming you. We share equal blame. We underestimated the game.¡± She admitted tiredly. ¡°Seriously, we- oh, wait a sec, I think my [Exhaustion] debuff just ran out.¡± She hopped back onto her feet, grinning. ¡°Ha! [Tireless] is the best!¡± ¡°Die, Millia¡­seriously, just die¡­¡± Naga complained, her beautiful face still planted in the ground. Millia did a few jumping jacks, a cheeky grin on her face. Naga decided it was better to ignore the (internet)troll and sobbed theatrically into the stone. Myth/Real Online was an entirely new breed of game with an equally massive treasure trove of secrets, as many beta testers discovered over the course of their headlong rush into this new world. Those who were expecting anything like the standard keyboard/mouse or controller input were given one hell of a wake-up call. Monsters that should only stand as high as an average person¡¯s abdomen suddenly seemed intimidatingly large when you had a first-person view of their fanged maws as they leapt up to eat your face. Those that marched out of the town gates with System Assist turned off and a swagger in their step returned with slumped shoulders and red faces. Fighting was hard. Surprisingly so. ¡®What is this? D*rk Souls?¡¯ Was the cry on message boards. But once the flash-tide of butthurt began to die down, new interest glimmered in the eyes of certain people. Many of those, predictably, were fans of an infamously difficult series of games. ¡®D*rk Souls, you say? Shiny~!¡¯ Some of the original players, fed up with those self-entitled brats who screamed ¡°NERF NERF NERF¡± at the first hint of difficulty, posted videos taken with the in-game record function. All of them were usually titled ¡®FIGHTING SCHOOL FOR NOOBS¡¯ and things of similar intent. One of those, belonging to the more polite and professional category of videos, was made by none other than Millia herself. Flashing a cheerful grin at her viewers, she started her first video off with this line. ¡°It¡¯s a fantasy game, people!. You¡¯re fighting scary monsters and gribblies too ugly to live! I understand that even if you can respawn, it can be traumatic. But it doesn¡¯t have to be. I can show you how.¡± In Myth/Real Online, it was all about the skills. Passives, actives and equipment were the three main pillars of combat in the game. Classes like Fighter, Mage and Thief did not exist save as titles and did not dictate your approach to a fight. Your main method of damage was determined by your equipped weapon. If you used an axe, do not expect to be able to use staff skills like ¡®Stave Bolt¡¯ or ¡®Wizard¡¯s Blast¡¯. On the other hand, if you wielded a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, you could use two different types of skills ¨C except for certain skills that required a two handed grip on a single weapon to use. It was both simple and complex at once. Add in the fact that all skills can improve with use and it becomes a matter of finding a style of combat you are comfortable with and sticking to it. Passive skills are much more versatile, but also much more obscure. You could find NPCs willing to teach Active skills and even discover a few by accident yourself, but Passives can only be discovered as you play. A player who uses a mace and blocks hits with a shield may soon develop the [Mace Proficiency] and [Shield Defense] after doing it long enough. A caster who primarily freezes his enemies can soon rely on [Practiced Caster] to make his spells faster and more efficient to cast and [Student of Frost] will ensure that the coldness of his spells bites to the bone. The true importance of Passives is that all of them indirectly improve health, mana and ability scores, while some can even boost, change or even add new attributes. As for healing, the game did not even have a dedicated healing class. It was more accurate to say that every player was responsible for restoring themselves ¨C everyone had a special slot for any item or skill that they preferred to use. With the frantic and dynamic pace of battles, a dedicated healer is just a weakness. Combinations such as a warrior who constantly regenerated his health using druidic vines wrapped around his body to a gunner who could reconstruct her body with a spell to even the standard potion junkie were all possible. But stat bonuses can only go so far. Flailing randomly against an enemy stops working once they start showing up with armor, natural or otherwise. Even unarmored enemies learn how to evade and counter. Makroun¡¯s Gulch was full of enemies like those. Harsh speech spewing from hissing tongues resounded off the walls. Millia and Naga both snapped their faces towards the noise. Exchanging a brief look, they prepared themselves for battle. Millia scooped up her bearded axe from the floor and speedily took position in front of Naga, her eyes roving and alert. Naga seemed to wield no weapon at first, but that was a deception. The graceful patterns on her stylish dress lit up as dirt and grime fell off Naga¡¯s body. The bracelets on her wrist glinted with an otherworldly shine. Naga, using her [Tailoring] and [Manaweaving] production skills, turned her entire outfit into an alluring weapon. In the most literal sense. She really did enjoy playing the femme fatale. A war squad of Lizardmen appeared from behind a boulder. To their credit, they were very disciplined. At first sight of the Players, the monstrous beings almost instantly closed ranks into a tight combat formation. A hulking brute of a Lizardman Blood Brave raised its jagged ivory shield, cleaver raised high and alert. His proud helm was fashioned from the skull of a long-dead monster and streaked with dried blood. His scales were glossy, but littered with scars of many battles. Behind him, his three subordinates hissed and jeered in their own language, their taloned hands gripping spears and tomahawks. They were Lizardmen Skirmishers. Sandwiched between them was a Lizardman Cursetongue. Festooned with fetishes over a ragged robe, it raised over its head a skull that clearly came from a member of its own race and began a low, menacing hiss. The eyeholes of the skull glowed and it opened its jaws on its own. However, even before the battle started, they were already at a disadvantage. Millia and Naga chose to rest in this place because it was easy to defend. As they were, they would have to go one-by-one if they wanted to charge. Strategy was something the game would not teach you at the start. Millia charged ahead, shield raised to slam into the Blood Brave¡¯s own. The Lizardman grunted, but held its ground with a triumphant glint in its slitted eyes before letting out a harsh croak. The three Skirmishers used it back as a ramp as they leapt over the heads of the deadlocked warriors. Without Millia¡¯s presence, Naga was vulnerable. This was the second secret of battle in Myth/Real ¨C verticality and environmental exploitation. Every instant in battle, the flow could change at the drop of a hat. Naga chuckled in the back of her throat. ¡°Ooh¡­clever boys!¡± she murmured. She spun in a slow circle, seemingly uncaring of the lizardmen sprinting towards her. She flicked one hand out as she completed the spin. Abruptly, the skirmishers stumbled, one of them breaking his ankle and letting out a pained snarl. Under Naga¡¯s control, her shadow had spilled out like an oil slick. Little black claws had shot from the floor to catch legs with unnatural strength. A clever application of the shadow spell [Umbral Limbs], changed from large, wickedly clawed arms into a shadowy carpet that spawned many smaller ones. Thus trapped, the Lizardmen were no longer protecting the Cursetongue. Behind them, the reptilian spellcaster narrowed its eyes in hate and sped up its incantation. The skull in its hands creaked its maw wider with a crack. ¡°Heh. So that¡¯s how you wanna play, then?¡± Naga asked. Her lips moved as she began incanting as well. Between them, Millia and the Blood Brave clashed in a spirited duel. Shield banged against shield, slashes parried and returned. The Blood Brave loomed over the shorter Millia, but she matched its strength each time she struck. It was already hissing in frustration as its attacks continued to be stymied. Millia¡¯s grin was full of savage glee. A savage chop from Millia bashed into the brace of bones protecting its throat. It choked, but the warding slice of its cleaver was strong and precise enough to force her to backpedal and lose the chance to keep the pressure on. Ignoring the pieces of armor that fell off, it used the melee skill [Death March], unleashing alternated shield bashes and heavy overhead slashes to keep Millia retreating and off balance. Rather than fear, the look in Millia¡¯s eyes was cunning appraisal. Watching carefully, her axe darted in after a shield bash. To the Blood Brave¡¯s surprise, it fell short of hitting anything. Millia pulled back hard, the hook of her bearded axe catching and pulling the rim of the Brave¡¯s shield. The Brave quickly stepped into the fall, raising its shield and cleaver to protect its head and neck. ¡­Only to have Millia smash the edge of her shield into its exposed knee with a vicious punch. [Shield Jab]. The crack of bone echoed off the stone walls. It jerked from the sudden agony and died by Millia¡¯s axe as it smashed past its weakened guard and took its head off. Behind them all, the Cursetongue winced as the Blood Brave¡¯s [Sanguine Aura] blinked into nothing. Nevertheless, it shouted in triumph and raised its skull high in both hands. A sickly false light flashed bright¡­only to be snuffed out by a ripple in the air. It stared incredulously at the now ordinary skull in its talons, before dropping its gaze to Naga, who playfully blew at the tip of her index finger, her hand curled into a finger gun. ¡°Dispel.¡± She drawled. ¡°And now, for my next trick¡­¡± She said, her finger tracing a purple line in the air as she drew a ritual circle in the air. ¡°[Cosmic Servant].¡± The captured lizardmen barely let out a squawk before betting slurped into the shadow. There was a disturbing crunch. From the pool of blackness that was left, humanoid shape rose. IT was a rounded, crude approximation of a human, like a melted wax statue made of black stuff, its legs melted into the shadow instead of feet. Sparks bloomed in the featureless dark before wide bands of glowing light encircled its waist and wrists. The ¡®face¡¯ of the thing was the spinning center of a spiral galaxy, the starry arms spread across its entire body. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Oh, Ikky dear, please crush this monster for mommy, will you?¡± Naga cooed. The Cosmic Servant surged right past Millia on a cresting wave of darkness, its arms raised high. The Cursetongue could only squeak as the arms descended¡­ ----------------------- Romul, Vulcanopolis Katherine Walker sat with her chin on her hands, her elbow resting on her demurely folded legs. Her other hand was busy poking away at the menu screen she had open in front of her. She was sitting in a tent pitched in the local barracks of the Romul town. The shouts of sergeants training their men echoed through the air, over the sound of marching sandals and clanking armor. She dragged the final piece of armor over to the small standing image of herself and felt the sensation of her final piece of armor equipping itself on her. She could manually don it and gain experience for her [Iron Shell] Passive, but she had trained it up until such bonuses were negligible at best. She eyed her tiny reflection on her inventory screen. To be honest, she was less than satisfied with her in-game appearance. Despite the fact that the D-set scanned her real appearance and used it to create her default avatar, the graphics themselves meant that she only looked like she stepped out of an anime, though it would be one the more realistic and detailed ones. Her twin-tailed hairstyle did not help there, but that was not something she would change. She wore that hairstyle six years ago, on the day Isaac fell into the coma. She kept her hair color dark brown and skin her natural shade. She even kept her eye colors the same deep black. Now, she had difficulty believing that her own mother would recognize her. After all, she doubted that heavy loricae segmentum armor forged from iron could be considered casual wear. Nor formalwear, even. She had a sudden image of walking into an interview all clanking in her heavy armor, her crested helmet cradled under her arm and had to stifle a bout of laughter. When she first entered Myth/Real Online, she already had a plan to build a scout or rogue type of character. Even though the default pain settings of the game was much lower than its real counterpart, it was more logical in her mind to dodge hits instead of taking them. She did not have that much time to amass enough money to buy a lot of potions despite the 4 to 1 Time acceleration in-game. After all, she would most probably have to play escort for her mother. Mom''s work schedule meant that her character would be absolutely feeble once the deadline came. So, she simply grabbed a simple Arcane Healing tome, some basic equipment and a simple gladius off the shops and went out to fight. With the almighty power of Alt+Tab (She made the finger motions a macro for that exact purpose) and internet guides written up by other beta testers, she blazed a path through the low-levelled quests. Of course, she got thrown a curve-ball on one of her Hunting Quests. She came across a group of NPC legionnaires who were rapidly losing against a Manticore. Despite the vaunted discipline of the Romulii, the situation was looking bleak. The Manticore had turned their officer into a honeycomb with a lucky spray of quills and was currently smacking the rest around with its huge claws. Unable to coordinate and too embroiled in close combat to disengage, the legionnaires were tiring quickly. They had an even chance to win even then, but it looked as though casualties were unavoidable. Watching them gave Kat an uncomfortable feeling. While she was aware that they were all NPCs, she had found herself speaking and interacting with such NPCs like real people. They were that convincing. No, beyond convincing. Genuine. Kat could not help but be drawn into conversations with them. The events she saw in front of her, hearing the air ringing with desperate shouts and cries of pain, were incredibly hard to ignore. She had brushed her hand down her face, feeling as though she had put on a mask, and raced down towards the battle. Scooping up the officer¡¯s dropped standard, she shouted directions at the embattled soldiers. She had only the vaguest idea what she was doing and no idea of how to give orders, but she somehow managed to shepherd the men and women into two groups that harried the Manticore with their scutum tower shields. She was pretty sure most of it was thanks to how well-trained these legionnaires were in the first place. Unprepared for the sudden coordination of its toys, the Manticore suddenly found itself trapped between two walls of iron and wood. That was when Kat zipped in with [Sprint], leapt into the air with [Vault] and cut its spike-throwing tail off with a [Razor Cut] delivered with all the strength she could muster in her gladius. Without its most dangerous weapon and writhing in unexpected pain, it was totally vulnerable to the legionnaires¡¯ blades. Some of them took a vindictive glee in instant karma by hurling pilums into the softest flesh they could find. It died very quickly after that. Kat was left staring at a squad of injured but victorious soldiers, their officer dead and his standard held in her small fist. Her fragile mask crumbled and she dropped the standard with a squeak. And just like that, Kat¡¯s plans were derailed. She let herself be escorted back to the nearest Legion barracks (because a quest prompt with a hefty reward had shown up) and got herself introduced to the Legate in command of the place. She was pretty much sucked into a lengthy quest chain over the course of two real-time days that ended up with her in heavy armor and a shiny new title of [Decanus]. She did not really mind that. She had gotten several new skills out of it, after all.
Polearm Proficiency Lvl.6
Mastery over weapons that have long hafts, usually taller than a person''s height. Unlocks Polearm Skills. +30% Damage. +6% Attack Speed. +3 Vigor +2 Reflex
One-Handed Proficiency Lvl.8
Mastery over single-grip weapons including shortswords, handaxes, maces etc. Unlocks One-handed Skills. +40% Damage. +8% Attack Speed. +4 Reflex +2 Vigor
Dual Wielding Lvl. 2
Wield a weapon in each hand. It requires great mental focus and physical coordination, but you are now a whirlwind of flashing edges. +6% Attack Speed +2 Reflex
Leadership Lvl.3
You know how to use you Charisma to inspire, lead and direct followers to do your bidding both on the field of battle and off it. People unconsciously defer to you as well. Activates [Morale] meter on HUD. +6 Charisma +6 Intellect +12% to effects of Skills based off Charisma
Stentorian Lvl.4
Your voice can be heard clear across a clamorous battlefield! Using your internal energies, you can increase the volume of your voice to beyond natural limits and even cause powerful effects on both ally and enemy! Unlocks Commands +1 Charisma +40 HP
Standard Bearer Lvl. 1
You are entrusted with the proud standard of your troops. As long as you wield it, you are an inspiring symbol and the pillar upon which your comrades shall stand. Grants ''Rally to Me!'' Command. Grants ''We Stand Here!'' Command. Grants ''Romul Victoria!'' Command. +5% Charisma-based Skills
Iron Shell Lvl. 4
Clad in a heavy metal shell, you can shrug off blows that will normally put other beings down. In time, you will laugh off the heaviest attacks and keep going no matter what. +200 HP +1 Vigor +1 Spirit
In addition, it worked in her favor because she was basically in charge of a squad of fantasy Spec-Ops soldiers that she could summon to her side with the horn swinging at her belt. With group of loyal and burly soldiers at her disposal, she could do a much better job at protecting her mother. She could not help but feel a sense of wonder at it all. Myth/Real Online really threw one hell of a surprise at her. She could not help but feel a spark of eager curiosity at what would happen in the future. Now, all she had to do was to meet her new minio-subordinates. Standing up from the low Roman-style couch, she mentally donned the mask she had come to refer to as the Lady of War. Soon enough, a group of ten armor-clad legionnaires filed into the large tent. As one, they clashed their fists onto their chest armor and held them straight, still fisted, in salute. ¡°Ave, Decanus!¡± They shouted together. Kat returned the salute, a warm smile on her lips. ¡°At ease, men! As of today, I shall be your new Decanus. If you¡¯ll have me, I shall give you glory!¡± An enthusiastic roar was her answer. Inside, Kat trembled, even though her face was calm and confident. What had she gotten herself into¡­? Arc 1: Closed Beta - A Sunlit Interval A/N: Someone pointed out to me that Isaac does not seem very childlike. This is an attempt to address that. Also, it''s a little snapshot of what is happening during his training. A Sunlit Interval ¡°Welcome home, darling.¡± ¡°M-Mom? You¡¯re back¡­early?¡± ¡°The office gave us half-day for today, dear. Oh, what¡¯s that in your hands?¡± ¡°Um¡­It¡¯s my project. I¡­I got my results back today¡­¡± ¡°Will you let me see it?¡± Isaac handed the sheet of paper to his mother with trembling hands. She saw it, and frowned for the tiniest moment. She looked it over and her face brightened. ¡°Oh! You did rather well! So, a report about Japanese samurai, was it?¡± Isaac was not expecting a compliment. He blushed, a hesitant smile on his lips. ¡°Um¡­It was a group project¡­I just did my part¡­¡± Mom folded her arms around her son. ¡°You did your best and you got a good grade for it. Of course I¡¯d be happy about it! Well done, Isaac!¡± Feeling full and warm, Isaac leaned into the embrace. ------------------ Thistle Isaac woke with a snort, sitting at a messy wooden table instead of the house in his dreams. He blearily looked over the scattered rune-etched clay tablets, diagrams scribbled in charcoal and a rather ordinary iron dagger that was threatening to fall over the edge. Reaching out and rescuing the dagger, Isaac stretched out. He did not remember falling asleep at the table, but that was what had happened. It was not the first time he had dreams like that. Each time, he felt extremely homesick afterwards. Now that he more or less could recall his past, Isaac had to endure these flashbacks in his sleep. There remained large blank spots he could not remember no matter how hard he tried though. Keeping busy was the only way he could keep the sense of loss at bay. A week ago, Malcolm ambushed him with a group of malcontents and gave him a serious beating. However, he and his lackeys did not get away with it. The very next day, Nils expelled them all from his training because they had broken one of the laws set down by him at the very start of their own courses: ¡®Never abuse your skills for your own gain, nor out of petty greed, nor tyranny.¡¯ While many of the ex-trainees had protested, Malcom had remained eerily calm and gathered them all together. After a hushed discussion, they left without further incident. Isaac, however, was nursing a bad feeling about them. Their behavior was too suspicious for his taste. Training had accelerated on all fronts. Nils issued real weapons and armor to Isaac¡¯s batch of trainees and occasionally took them out on monster extermination missions. Sage Ulrym judged him ready for actual battle spells and started with a basic Mage Knight¡¯s training. Kiernan had him study up on the creation of wands, staves and rune-charms. In order words, he was being worked to the bone. This day, Isaac was given a rare free day to rest and recuperate. He felt that it was well-deserved, given the very exciting day he just had¡­ ---------------------------- Briarweald Yesterday Isaac and a Hare Poukha raced through the trees, a gigantic beast hot on their heels. His companion was named Jacine and wore light leather armor. She wielded a war-pick in one hand and a buckler over a gauntlet in the other. Her buckler was strapped to her forearm, to allow use of her hand. She wore soft shoes instead of boots. Favoring light, mobile combat, her powerful legs allowed her to rebound off tree trunks and branches, touching the ground only rarely. Isaac himself wore a simple scale-mail coat. He had a sword drawn in his right hand and a wand in his left. He twisted to fire a provoking dart of flame back at the monster, keeping its attention on them. He may not be ricocheting madly off the foliage like his fellow trainee, but he kept up by vaulting over obstacles. Ahead of them, the rest of the class lay in wait. This monster was tougher than they expected ¨C this was the second ambush they were attempting. The first one involved boar spears. It had technically been a success, but the Hate Tusk was treating an entire spear impaled in its torso as a mere annoyance. It had been charging endlessly at random members of their group ever since. This was a boar-like monster the size of a small hut, with tusk like lances, a mouth full of sharp teeth and horny plates growing out of its hide. When Nils had briefed them about it, he described it thus; ¡°It hates the world and wants to kill everything. Now you must kill it. Good luck.¡± By now, the trainees had expected this sort of careless explanation from Nils. He had started off giving them detailed explanations about enemies they might find and how to defeat them, but those explanations became more and more sparse each time. This was his way of training them to anticipate and adapt to surprises in a fight. Unlike Mercia, the village¡¯s surrounding woods were not patrolled as well due to lack of manpower. The Royal troops did go on an annual Kingdom-wide Monster Slayer Expedition (a.k.a. the Wild Hunt) through all of the woods of the Svartalfar Kingdom, but in the time between visits, the villages often had to fend for themselves. This meant that monsters got stronger the farther they lived from Kingswood. Briarweald was on the borders. This meant that monsters were very dangerous and survival often was a matter of teamwork. That will remain true until the Players inevitably get strong enough. Right now, Isaac and his team were treating this fight very seriously. Jacine whistled sharply, meaning that it was time to spring the trap. With a controlled breath, Isaac reeled off a short incantation. ¡°Frigid jaws devour the earth ¨C [Frostbite]!¡± Magic blazed through the wand held in his left hand. Pointing it forwards, he fired a white mass of energy which struck the forest path before him, turning it white with frost immediately. He leapt over the frozen patch and heard the breaking glass sound of razor-sharp icicles erupting from the frost-covered ground. The basic arrow spell attuned to ice magic had a two-step effect if it hits an empty patch of surface. It coats the place with slippery ice and a delayed effect turns the ice patch into a deadly trap. The pain-filled squeal behind him was accompanied with the crash of breaking ice. Of course, he was not expecting that to stop a large beast like the Hate Tusk. It was meant to force the beast to close its eyes and miss the real trap. With the sound of whips cracking, the Druid Apprentice among their group commanded vines to tighten into a massive trip-wire. Jacine and Isaac cleared the vines easily. The Hate Tusk did not. Forced to charge blindly, its hooves slipping on icy ground and now tripped by vines enhanced to the strength of steel cables¡­The Hate Tusk¡¯s momentum was wrested from its control. It flipped and tumbled wildly on its sides before coming to an abrupt halt. Roaring a battle-cry, Mikkre, a burly Badger Poukha, hefted his Warhammer and unleashed a thunderous smash into the soft underbelly of the boar-like monster. It drew a sharp squeal, but once again they underestimated the Hate Tusk¡¯s unnatural endurance. It rolled upright with such swiftness it caught Mikkre by surprise. A huge swipe from its head bowled the man into a tree, his life preserved only due to the heavy iron plates he wore. Isaac saw its beady eyes lock onto him. It stamped the ground and charged again, throwing deadwood and moss up from under its hooves. Throwing himself desperately aside, he rolled and stood up just in time for the monster to bust a hole entirely through the trunk of the giant tree he was standing in front of. The ancient green titan shook and groaned, littering the ground with leaves and branches. The Hate Tusk slid, its legs pumping as it fought its own inertia. Its mad gaze was still fixed on its target. Isaac lifted his wand¡­what was left of it. He eyed the splintered end with distaste. The monster boar must have clipped it on the way past. Thankfully, the Hate Tusk was very handily distracted by a speeding blur that was Jacine. She had leapt from high in the boughs to turn herself into a missile aimed right at the monster. The Hate Tusk let out a strangled grunt in surprise, its legs splayed from the impact. The girl swung her war-pick into the monster¡¯s side, causing blood to spurt high into the air. This time, its squeal was ear-splitting. Jacine yelped when her ride began to buck and toss. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. After Nils¡¯ harsh training, Isaac was able to keep his cool and decide on a plan of action. The only magic spell he could use right now without hurting Jacine¡­was Wind magic! Withdrawing his last wand from a holster tied to his thigh, Isaac aimed it at the bucking monster. ¡°In Warring Skies dwell Unseen blades ¨C [Gust Razor]!¡± A whirling discus of air, glowing green with magic infused within it, whipped itself into existence just beyond the tip of Isaac¡¯s wand. It flew with incredible speed towards the Hate Tusk. Brow furrowed in concentration, Isaac guided its flight with twitches of his wand. The wind spell impacted right into the Tusk¡¯s left eye ¨C a [Critical Hit]! The sudden agony caused the Tusk to rear onto its hind legs. Jacine seized the chance to rip her weapon free and leap off its back to safety. Predictably, the Hate Tusk¡¯s gaze was once more focused on Isaac. This time, however, its remaining eye was filled with a mad red glow. It was [Enraged]. Forgoing its habit of pawing the ground, it exploded off the ground, right towards its current nemesis. Half-hidden behind another giant tree, the Druid Apprentice, who was wearing a brown cloak, extended her hand and made a fist. Thorned vines burst through the undergrowth in an attempt to ensnare the charging Hate Tusk. The vines halted it only for a few seconds before snapping, but they successfully robbed the monster of its initial speed. Isaac¡¯s hand slid his wand back into his holster. Grabbing the scabbard at his waist, he sheathed his sword. Feeling the cold chill down his back, he hoped he was making the right decision. With the monster¡¯s entire left-side vision gone, it was the best time to use this move. He lowered his stance, ready to move swiftly. His left hand adjusted his sheathed sword until the pommel was almost parallel with the ground. His right hand hovered over the grip. Being a western-based fantasy, [Drawing Slice] was a very obscure skill. It was not until the advent of the ¡®Star-People¡¯ did its usage begin to spread. The only experience Isaac had with any sort of melee combat was that project he did on samurai when he was twelve. Curiosity was what led him to try copying some of the techniques he had studied about. When prompts for [Potential Skill] had appeared, it was all the motivation he needed to keep practicing. Now, he shall reap the rewards. The Hate Tusk barreled closer and closer to Isaac. He felt as though the world was narrowing down until only him and the incoming monster remained. They were almost about to collide. 20 feet. 10 feet. 5 feet! Isaac¡¯s boot pushed off the ground. His right hand grasped the hilt. The left hand guided the cut with the scabbard. He ended bent forwards, his bloodied sword outstretched. The moment when he connected with [Drawing Slice] felt surreal, almost like it did not happen. But when he turned around, the sight of a thrashing Hate Tusk, its left foreleg lying a fair distance away, greeted him. A long spatter of blood trailed back to the stump. The monster¡¯s leg was covered with tough plates. Any ordinary sword would have broken on it.
Wishblade (Rank 1)
Prerequisites: Leyline Essence A blessing from the leylines in the earth that runs through your body and empowers any [Sword] you wield. As your might grows, so does this power. - Durability decline is slowed - Equipped [Sword] ignores 20% physical resistance. - Equipped [Sword] deals 10% more damage to Elite Monsters and above.
But in his hands, no sword is ordinary. A twinge of pain brought Isaac back to his senses. He looked down to his left arm, seeing the long gash in the mail and the bloody rip in his flesh. He felt a chill race down his spine. He had come entirely too close to being gored. ¡°Nice!¡± The Druid Apprentice was giving him a thumbs-up gesture, her white teeth flashing in a grin. Isaac nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°Let us end this!¡± Mikkre had re-appeared, his own eyes glowing red like the monster¡¯s. He raised his hammer as he charged and brought it down onto the Hate Tusk¡¯s head. There was a great crack as a tusk flew off. And yet, the monster still lived. Its squeals only got more enraged. The entire group quickly gathered around the fallen monster. As one, they raised their weapons high and plunged it them down. Finally, finally, the Hate Tusk died. Everyone was exhausted. The long battle had sapped reserves that were already taxed by a long period of tracking the monster. ¡°Good work, all of you.¡± Their trainer, Nils, said as he stepped into view. He had been nearby from the start, watching over them so that he could step in if they were in a situation that they could not escape from. ¡°You did not need my help at all this time. Good.¡± Everyone smiled wearily. This enemy was the most dangerous they had so far. The fact that they could hold their own was a sign of how far they had come. ¡°However, there are several mistakes.¡± Nils continued gravely. ¡°Trainee Mikkre, you¡¯ve seen the Hate Tusk¡¯s strength. Trying to overpower that beast even after knowing the fact was not wise.¡± The badger Poukha ducked his head in agreement. ¡°Overconfidence bested me this time. I have no excuse.¡± He admitted. ¡°Adelaide. Did it not occur to you to use your vines to break Mikkre¡¯s fall?¡± The Druid Apprentice stiffened, then slouched under her cloak. ¡°Oops¡­it didn¡¯t occur to me¡­¡± she mumbled. ¡°And you. Trainee Isaac.¡± Nils switched the target of his stare. Isaac straightened up instantly. ¡°You took a reckless gamble near the end. While it led to victory, your skill was not enough to prevent injury. I shall spar with you personally until you no longer move so sloppily.¡± Isaac grimaced. ¡°Yes, Ser!¡± He replied. When Nils had caught him attempting to learn [Drawing Slice], the veteran instantly took over his personal training. His solution was to spar with his trainee endlessly until Isaac could use that skill effectively in a real fight. Later, Nils had explained that watching him butcher the skill had been painful to watch, so he intervened out of sheer irritation. After that, he became interested enough to try basing an entire style off [Drawing Slice]. Isaac was thus rewarded with a complete Active Skill, a sword style in the making and a rather bruised ego. The bear hummed in satisfaction. ¡°Hm. With this, I declare this expedition over.¡± He ambled over to the Hate Tusk. To everyone¡¯s awed gazes, he easily hefted the massive corpse up onto his shoulder with one arm. The house-sized corpse engulfed Nils in its shadow, yet he carried it like it was a bale of hay! ¡°Tomorrow, all of you shall have a day of rest. This fellow here shall be our dinner, for today we celebrate!¡± The monster roast was indeed delicious. ------------------------ Thistle Present Day Isaac smiled at the memory. These moments of joy allayed the grey mood he often found himself in these days. The first time he recalled feeling like this was after his very first expedition with Nils. They had gone to clear out a Redcap burrow. The misshapen little monsters did not give them much trouble, but they had to venture into the burrow itself to clean it out. And what they found in there¡­ They had all rushed out to retch, despite having already emptied their stomachs after their first kills. There were tiny little corpses in there ¨C some still had frightened faces. Nils had carted the sad remains out together with them. In the end, he told them: ¡°This is the price of failure.¡± Isaac had nightmares afterwards. It was the first time he felt so homesick that all the energy felt drained from his limbs. Six years. He had not realized just how many years had passed. He just had to open his menu screen and there it was, stamped onto the Real-Time clock. Counting the days that had passed since he started living in Myth/Real, six long years had somehow blinked by. He had fallen into a coma when he was thirteen. Now he was nineteen and yet he did not feel like he had aged. If he was wiser, it was only due to the things he had gone through since he had awoken. Sometimes, he was kept awake at night. Has his family forgotten him? Would they even recognize him if they saw him in the body he now inhabited? He was afraid of the answers to those questions. They caused a hollow dread in him that made him want to collapse on the spot and return to that empty place. But¡­ He had promised. He promised to win. Not just over Malcolm, but also himself - that weak self whom always gave in. So he had to keep getting up every day. He tried to hold on to the happy things and let it fuel that small [hope]. And, in case his fears came true¡­ He would hold on. He promised. Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 5 Chapter 5 WORLDTREE International Holdings HQ ¡°¡­I see. You make a compelling argument. Make the necessary arrangements then. Make sure to inform the family accordingly before guiding them to their son¡¯s location in-game.¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Hah¡­I¡¯ve told you why we can¡¯t simply free-teleport them there ¨C now that the game is running, that function was taken out to avoid destabilizing the game code! Are you willing to crash the entire in-game world, then?¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you understand. Keep up the good work.¡± *Click* ¡°¡­Now then. It¡¯s almost done, isn¡¯t it? Just a little more¡­then I¡¯ll be done with this place. It won¡¯t be my problem anymore. I can finally¡­¡± ----------------- Romul, Primus Regia This is Primus Regia, the Romulii capital. As the heart of Romulii civilization, it was filled with grand monuments, famous for its bathhouses and home to the greatest goal of duelists everywhere ¨C the Imperial Colosseum. Its buildings were built of carved stone in an organized grid that was near perfect in precision. Red banners depicting twin wolves hung everywhere. In the Commerce District, the crowds were thick, as was normal during the day. The people in it were primarily humans of Romulii descent. Other races were a minority here save for the Dwarves, who shared the same continent. In this milling hive of people, a daughter meets her mother. ¡°¡­So in the end, you sold off that gladius, huh?¡± Kat concluded with a smile. ¡°Aha¡­I¡¯m sorry, it looks like fighting isn¡¯t really something I enjoy.¡± Mrs. Irene Walker laughed in embarrassment. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t handle it. Everything was happening too quickly and those things were frightening! Maybe it¡¯s because I didn¡¯t play games all too much when I was younger.¡± She sighed in remorse. Kat held her mom¡¯s hands reassuringly. ¡°It¡¯s okay, mom. Not everybody who plays Myth/Real takes on a combat role. You¡¯d be surprised how many people main production skills.¡± She was not lying about this, either. Her own classmates in school who played the game were a testament to this fact. ¡°So what skills are you training right now? Spill!¡± She demanded, leaning forwards in excitement. ¡°Settle down, dear!¡± Mrs. Walker laughed. ¡°Would it surprise you if I said I recently became an Apprentice Blacksmith?¡± She winked, flexing an arm. ¡°Eeeh?!¡± Kat gaped. Her mom was a positively tiny person and her avatar reflected her real-life physique. The image of her lifting a huge hammer overhead to pound on an anvil¡­ ¡°Pfft!¡± Irene chopped her daughter¡¯s head gently, a pout on her face. ¡°Scoffing at your own mother? How rude! I¡¯ll have you know that I¡¯m rather good at Blacksmithing!¡± ¡°Ow! Sorry, mom.¡± Kat apologized, rubbing sheepishly at her head ¡°Seriously, why blacksmithing, of all things?¡± ¡°Honestly? It¡¯s something I wouldn¡¯t get to do in reality.¡± Irene explained. ¡°I tried being a merchant after I gave up on fighting, you know. When I got all those skills, I also received weird messages.¡± She cocked her head, brow scrunched up. ¡°What was it¡­ Ah! Yes, they said something about¡­¡¯Synchronized Experience¡¯? I also found being a merchant was very similar to my real job too. If that¡¯s the case, then alchemy must be like chemistry, isn¡¯t it? So in the end, I decided to pursue blacksmithing¡­especially since you walk around with all this metal on your person now.¡± She tapped her knuckles on Kat¡¯s armor. Her daughter giggled and pushed the offending hand away. ¡°Huh. Synchronized Experience? Lemme check¡­¡± Kat mused. With a practiced hand gesture, she opened the in-game web browser. The NPCs passing by gave her double-takes at the little screen hanging in the air in front of her face, but dismissed it quickly. Magic was an everyday occurence in Myth/Real Online, after all. With the effortless skill of most people born in the Information Age, Kat opened up several screens, all from different sources. ¡°Got it. Let¡¯s see¡­ Oh, interesting!¡± Kat exclaimed. ¡°So, it turns out that people with real-life experience get a bonus when they create skills that reflect that experience! Like this guy here.¡± She pointed to a forum post. ¡°He¡¯s a fencing instructor who got a beta key. He bought a rapier and started fighting with it, so he managed to get Synchronized Experience with the Passive skill [Fencer]. Woah, it jumped from Level 1 to Level 9 almost instantly! He¡¯s even got screenshots and video to prove it.¡± Irene nodded. ¡°That sounds right. It¡¯s amazing, isn¡¯t it? The creators of the game must be using some incredible tech for all this to be possible. It¡¯s fascinating!¡± ¡°Yeah. Fascinating.¡± Kat mumbled, distracted. She had been getting quite suspicious as she played the game. It was an incredible achievement, to be sure, but things did not really add up, or so she thought. WORLDTREE claimed that their powerful technology was the result of top secret projects. But Myth/Real Online itself¡­it was too good. There were other VR games before this Full Dive MMORPG, but their best efforts still fell short of what this game was capable of. Their NPCs made this glaringly obvious. No matter how cleverly the scriptwriters, voice actors and AI design teams worked, their NPCs eventually showed their limited nature, whether it was repeated dialogue or simply a certain artificial quality of behavior. Every so-called ¡®NPC¡¯ she had met with so far was fleshed out in a way she only ever experienced in real life. The AI that could make this happen would have to be phenomenally powerful. Kat was pretty damn sure that it would need a computer decades ahead of what anyone was capable of building now. However, she had no proof beyond her suspicions. Other people must have come to the same conclusions already, but outside of actual industrial espionage, she could not think of a way to find any clues. Saying anything about this would probably just get her dismissed as a crazy conspiracy theorist. What¡¯s more, WORLDTREE was already doing her family a favor by finding her brother. In other words, she was still at square one, meekly waiting for outside help. It rankled her on a very personal level. ¡°K-Kat?¡± Her mom¡¯s voice was shaken. She turned to look at her mother, alarmed at her suddenly fragile tone. In front of both of them, a message notification had popped up on its own. Her mother was staring at the opened message. Kat swiftly copied her and opened up the email.
FROM: WORLDTREE Int''l M/RO Customer support, [email protected] TO: Katherine Walker Subject: We found him. To Ms. Walker, We have your brother''s in-game location. Send me the name of the city/continent you are nearest and we''ll meet up at the closest Teleport Nexus. I''ll guide you there personally. Enclosed in this message is an image of his in-game appearance and his name. Regards, GM Colin
---------------------- Thistle ¡°Have ta say, yours is tha most strange request Ah¡¯ve had this month, lad.¡± The blacksmith remarked. He, as a Saelkhy Svartalfar, looked almost entirely human save for his slitted eyes. He was wearing a blacksmith¡¯s leather apron, simple clothing littered with black scorch marks from errant sparks and a dog¡¯s entire pelt tied by its front legs around his neck. The pelt itself was decorated with blue dye in a swirling, simple pattern that covered nearly half of it. That was his birth-hide. If he so chose, he could use it to assume the form of a huge dog, its fur adorned with that very blue pattern. It was an ancient tradition for Saelkhy to dye their birth-hides so they would not confuse them with the normal kind. Isaac shook the blacksmith¡¯s hand firmly. ¡°Much obliged for the help, Master Seamus. ¡®Tis a strange request, I admit, but if it works, I may find it very useful.¡± ¡°Bah, don¡¯t ¡®Master¡¯ me. Ah¡¯m just a village blacksmith. Me craft¡¯s me pleasure!¡± Seamus laughed, slapping Isaac¡¯s back heartily with his ham-sized fist. Isaac staggered, holding back a wince. ¡°Ah, I¡¯ll take my leave then. Farewell.¡± Shifting his package under his arm - a scabbard with a thin curved handle attached after the lip of the opening, he left the smithy and started on the way back to the Hospice. On the way, he had to pass the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. There, Isaac saw a certain kind of people that he had not seen for quite some time. The kind that had names floating above their heads. In other words, Players. He was not exactly sure why Thistle had been completely devoid of Players other than the cat-girl he saw a while back, but he was definitely not going to waste this chance to ask them for help. ¡°U-Um, excuse me!¡± He called out, jogging quickly up to them. The group of three turned around. Two of them were wearing cloaks save for the man with an impressively horned Saelkhy birth-hide of a bull. The Bull Saelkhy was intimidatingly large, with a massive scar that cut diagonally across an eye. Yet, the organ looked untouched. His square jaw, short dark hair and that scar made his face particularly ferocious. The name over his head read ¡®Bara-Thon¡¯ The next man had the hood of his cloak up and was almost completely obscured by dark robes. A large visor, adorned with gold filigree, hid most of his face save for his mouth and lower jaw. It was the ochre fur that gave him away as a Poukha. He held a staff topped with a smooth quartz orb, marking him as a Mage. His name read ¡®Narghel¡¯ When Isaac laid eyes on the last member¡­ ¡°Ghk!¡± He choked, feeling his face burn. It was that blonde cat-girl he had seen in Thistle before. However, her outfit had somehow become even more skimpy than before. She had forgone upper body clothing entirely, leaving her breasts bound by nothing more than a wide leather belt. Her shorts exposed every inch of her legs until they reached the boots. From behind, her cloak had concealed everything, but the moment she turned around she gave Isaac and the entire street behind him quite an eyeful. Isaac hurriedly cast his gaze skyward. Behind him, an outraged housewife began to screech at someone else, presumably her husband. Just out of the bottom of his sight, he could read the catgirl¡¯s name. It was ¡®Nyakka¡¯ ¡°Aaah!¡± He heard a feminine voice exclaim. ¡°I knew it! I wasn¡¯t seeing things that time! See? I told you guys that someone else found this village before I did!¡± Isaac snapped his eyes back down. He always thought the other Player had not been aware of his presence. All this time, he had been mistaken. ¡°Okay, fine. You were right and we were wrong. Happy?¡± The Bull Saelkhy grumbled. He looked utterly exasperated. ¡°If you were here¡­¡± The Poukha mage asked, sounding extremely amused. ¡°¡­then why didn¡¯t you get this guy here on your friend list? Would¡¯ve saved yourself a lot of trouble. Right, Nyakka?¡± ¡°Come on!¡± Nyakka, the underdressed catgirl whined. ¡°This entire thing only started because you jerks wouldn¡¯t believe me in the first place! Besides, I was only just passing through that time! I was looking for training spots, remember? A [Monk] has to train in the wilderness or she cannot be called a [Monk]!¡± ¡°Um¡­I beg pardon¡­?¡± Isaac asked weakly. ¡°[Monk] my ass! You¡¯re just a [Pugilist]! Besides, the only kinda monastery that would take your nudist ass is one that preaches the Kama Sutra as its main doctrine!¡± Bara-thon retorted. ¡°You know, that sounds like my kind of religion¡± Narghel sighed wistfully. Nyakka¡¯s response was to cup a hand to one of her feline ears. ¡°What? Speak up! I can¡¯t hear you over the sound of [Enduring Body]! You know, that skill I got by not wearing armor?¡± She taunted, her mouth curved in a smug smile. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°That skill is utter bullshit.¡± Bara-thon the Bull Saelkhy groused. ¡°Excuse me, I¡¯d like to-¡° Isaac tried again, in a louder voice. ¡°Wait a goddamn minute, I know that skill works if you¡¯ve got cloth stuff on! You¡¯ve got no damn excuse for your shit!¡± Bara-thon exclaimed, gesturing at Nyakka¡¯s non-attire. ¡°Woah, woah, woah. Dude. Are you dissing our eye-candy?¡± Narghel cut in, suddenly serious. ¡°Whoops, I mean¡­it¡¯s her choice how she wants to look, man. Don¡¯t be a hater.¡± ¡°See what I mean?!¡± Bara-thon points at the unrepentant Poukha mage, who was clearly enjoying the chaos. ¡°Myeh, nag nag nag¡­always the same shit.¡± Nyakka muttered with disinterest, all the while twisting her little finger in one ear. ¡°If they get fresh, I¡¯ll kick their asses. Why are you so worked up about this anyway?¡± ¡°EXCUSE ME!¡± Isaac shouted, finally losing his temper. All three players turned to look with startled eyes, causing his irritation to wilt into sudden embarrassment. ¡°Um¡­I¡­ Pardon my intrusion, good folk, I¡­¡± ¡°Nice accent, bro.¡± Narghel sniggered. ¡°You a roleplayer or something?¡± Isaac blinked. He had an accent? ¡°Eeeeeh!¡± Nyakka squealed. ¡°I love it! He sounds like R*mza!¡± She seemed to teleport right in front of him. ¡°Ooh! Say something again!¡± Isaac leaned away from her starry gaze. ¡°M-Milady, you are standing too close¡­¡± Bara-thon palmed his face before dragging Nyakka back by the hood of her cloak. ¡°Ease off the obscure references, Nyakka. And quit scaring the newb.¡± He told her. He gave Isaac a solemn nod. ¡°Sorry about these two idiots. They¡¯re a little nuts. Oh, and sorry for ignoring you earlier. We got¡­uh¡­carried away.¡± He ended sheepishly. ¡°Yep.¡± Narghel chortled. ¡°It¡¯s like this all the time now. We pretty much play as a group from way, way back and Nyakka here used to cross-play as a guy, you see. Bara-boy here only realized the truth when she started playing Myth/Real. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll ever recover.¡± ¡°Damn gender restrictions¡­¡± Nyakka grumbled. ¡°It can¡¯t be helped, though. I mean, if it messes you up, I¡¯m not risking it. Oh, wait! You needed to ask something, right?¡± Isaac¡¯s head was spinning a little from the rapid-fire shenanigans. ¡°A-Ah. Yes. I was wondering if you would help me. I¡¯m searching for some people, but they may not be players in the game¡­¡± Narghel cocked his head in confusion. ¡°Heh? Well, just log out and call them then? Or maybe you don¡¯t have their phone number or something?¡± Isaac¡¯s shoulders slumped. Suddenly, he was not so sure about approaching other players. He was not even sure exactly what had happened to him in the first place. With no other choice, he had to lie. ¡°T-That¡¯s not possible for me. My phone¡­I, uh, lost it?¡± ¡°Ouch.¡± Nyakka muttered. ¡°Okay, what about email then? That should work.¡± Isaac wanted to curl in on himself. He did not think this through. ¡°Um¡­I have their old email addresses, but¡­they¡­may not be¡­using them anymore¡­?¡± Bara-thon gave him a very odd look. ¡°¡­The hell? Why are you even looking for them if you can¡¯t be bothered to stay in touch?¡± Isaac wanted to crawl in a hole and die. ¡°¡­Never mind then. I¡¯m¡­sorry for taking up your time¡­¡± he whimpered.
New Title! [Puppy] Your pitiable expression tugs at the heartstrings of the soft-hearted and dog-lovers everywhere!
Nyakka rocked back on her heels. ¡°Gyah.¡± She suddenly clapped both her hands on Isaac¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t listen to those two idiots! Look, why don¡¯t you tell me the names of those people you¡¯re looking for? This onee-chan will help you find them!¡± Narghel¡¯s mouth gaped for a second. ¡°Uh, Nyakka, think about what you-¡± He got cut off by Nyakka turning her head to face him. ¡°Eep!¡± He retreated, his hands up in surrender. Nyakka¡¯s face turned back. Her eyes were sparkling. ¡°Don¡¯t worry! Nyakka¡¯s going to help you or die trying!¡± She chirped. Isaac felt like he was making a terrible mistake. --------------------------- Isaac successfully escaped from the trio of lunatics, but not before having Nyakka¡¯s name forcefully shoved into his [Friends List]. He was not sure whether to feel mortified or relieved when he saw Riselda standing in the middle of the road, watching him. It may have been a trick of the light filtering from the leaves above, but her hair appeared to have darkened in color to a more reddish-brown since the last time he saw her. The mage staff she gripped in her hand was new. The corner of her mouth seemed to be curved upwards. ¡°Those three¡­¡± She began. ¡°¡­seemed rather friendly.¡± Isaac let his shoulders slump again. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know why. Please don¡¯t ask.¡± She nodded in a languid manner. ¡°Hm. Well then. I was on the way back home. May we walk together? It has been some time since we¡¯ve spoken.¡± She asked softly. Isaac perked up. ¡°Oh! Certainly! We¡¯ve both been rather busy lately. We may not find another chance later.¡± With that said, they continued their path back to the Hospice, walking side by side. There was a comfortable silence between them. The weather had been cooling down, as was normal near the end of summer. Though the leaves in the canopy far above remained green, it would not be long before the colors of autumn began to show. ¡°I must apologize, Isaac¡­¡± Riselda asked quietly. ¡°¡­I overheard your words with your fellow Star-People earlier. Are you intending to leave Thistle?¡± Isaac let out a slow breath. ¡°Yes. Not now, but soon. If I stay here, I¡¯ll never accomplish my goal.¡± ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s only natural.¡± Riselda said, looking to the side. ¡°You¡¯ve been putting on faces of longing recently. It¡¯s a logical conclusion that you¡¯d have such a desire, now that your memories are returned.¡± ¡°Speaking of returned memories, am I not a lackwit anymore, then?¡± Isaac asked, a hint of mischief in his tone. Riselda let out a soft snort. ¡°No, certainly not. You¡¯ve progressed to a halfwit. I¡¯m certain that in time, you may recover entirely. Give it a decade or two.¡± She gave him a faint smirk. ¡°That¡¯s my professional opinion as a healer.¡± ¡°Have mercy, I surrender!¡± Isaac pleaded, jokingly. They both traded looks and laughed quietly. Isaac could not help the little smile on his face. ¡°¡­These people you¡¯re looking for are your family, aren¡¯t they?¡± Riselda asked, her smile fading to reveal a serious expression. Isaac shut his eyes for a moment. ¡°Yes.¡± Silence fell again, the pleasant mood now tinted with some sorrow. The rest of their journey back home was bittersweet. That lasted until they caught sight of the Hospice itself ¨C and the unwelcome person standing before it. Riselda let out a virulent ¡°Hsss!¡± as her eyes narrowed in distaste. ¡°Malcolm. You dare show your face here?¡± It was, indeed, the leonine Malcolm standing in front of the Hospice. He looked as immaculately handsome as ever, a new sword hanging at his waist. Somehow, he looked less foppish, more dangerous. There was no mistaking the arrogant smile, nor the malicious undercurrent in his eyes. Isaac could see the ill-intent he regarded them with. There was a crawling feeling of foreboding going up his spine again. The last time, the Lion Poukha only had disdain for Isaac and a barely-hidden lust when he looked at Riselda. (He knew that look from his father¡¯s eyes, sometimes when strange women came to their house. Mom was never home for those times.) ¡°Dear Riselda, it¡¯s been quite a while since we¡¯ve last met.¡± He purred. His tone sounded oily and disgusting to Isaac¡¯s ears. ¡°Are you willing to speak to me now? It¡¯s been more than a month now. Surely your anger has cooled?¡± Isaac knew that Malcolm had been making repeated visits, always in an attempt to regain what little favor he had with Riselda. The calendar in the Hospice and his own menu screens agreed that a month had indeed already passed. Riselda raised her chin, her stature shifting to imperious disdain. ¡°Stop deluding yourself. I¡¯ll have nothing to do with you!¡± Malcolm shook his head in sorrow¡­or so it seemed. ¡°You wound me, my dearest. How am I supposed to redeem myself if you will not even give me the chance to? Holding such grudges is unbecoming of a beautiful young lady like you.¡± Malcolm¡¯s words did not match that baleful look in his eye. It was the gaze of a man looking at his hated foes. Worse, it was directed at the both of them. They might be in greater danger than they first realized. Riselda, to her credit, might as well have been carved out of ice. She was cold, indifferent. Utterly composed in the face of this oppressive atmosphere. ¡°You did not come to mince words, I think. What are you really here for?¡± She demanded, her eyes narrowing again, this time in suspicion. ¡°Do you remember the last time we spoke?¡± Malcolm asked, his smile suddenly gone cold. ¡°I begged for forgiveness. I actually went down on my knees and pleaded for it. You rejected me, of course. And afterwards, I swore that you would regret it. Do you remember that? Of course you don¡¯t. Nothing I did was ever good enough for you.¡± He finished bitterly. Riselda sighed. ¡°And?¡± Malcolm paused, but his smile returned to full strength. ¡°I would not be so blithe if I were you. After all, you ruined my good name. So I returned the favor!¡± ¡°As petty revenges go, that one is quite lukewarm.¡± Riselda retorted, as she rolled her eyes. ¡°If you truly knew me at all, then you know I care little about such things.¡± The calm assurance of Malcolm¡¯s face sent bells of alarm ringing in Isaac¡¯s mind. ¡°That, my dear Riselda, is precisely your weakness.¡± The Alderman¡¯s son seemed to savor his words. ¡°Do you realize how much ill will you have amongst the young girls of this silly mudhole of a village? It is truly a venomous stew. Your refined manners, your noble features, your¡­¡± His eyes trailed up and down her body, causing her to shudder minutely in revulsion. ¡°¡­womanly assets. Did you really think only the men have noticed?¡± Malcolm began to pace dangerously. ¡°Oh yes. Quite a recipe for jealousy! They¡¯ll happily aim for any chink in your impeccable image. You and I know that Thistle¡¯s folk are not any measure of saints. You¡¯re not so na?ve as that, are you? You must already be hearing the whispers by now. They¡¯ll forget my own missteps¡­but I¡¯ve already taken measures to make sure they remember yours forever. I like the rumors about your wanton ways with patients. The scandalous stories tend to float around for quite some time, I hear.¡± Riselda twitched, finally feeling the blow. Her face had gone pale. Malcolm bowed mockingly as he began to walk past them. ¡°Farewell, whore.¡± he hissed as he walked past. The last two words ignited a river of fire in Isaac¡¯s veins. *CRACK* Malcolm fell to the earth, holding his jaw. His expression showed pure shock. Isaac lowered his fist, his knuckles throbbing. ¡°You bastard.¡± He growled. He could barely recognize his own voice. ¡°I challenge you to a duel. Here and now. You will not walk away smiling!¡± Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 6 Chapter 6 In a small village like Thistle, word travels incredibly fast. With all the other healers present in the Hospice, it took only one excited individual to spread the word that foundling youth was challenging the Alderman¡¯s son to a duel. The crowd formed swiftly, consisting of everybody from adventurers to the Alderman himself. Nils was present in the back of the crowd, arms crossed and face grim. He might as well be a foreboding statue looming over everyone. He had arrived together with his trainees, who had dispersed through the crowd and were keeping a watchful eye over people whom they knew were Malcolm¡¯s supporters. Isaac was one of them now. They had not forgotten the beating he had been given. Nyakka, Narghel and Bara-thon had also wandered over, curious about what the commotion was all about. ¡°Hm? That¡¯s the Isaac kid we met earlier. Is this a quest?¡± Bara-thon wondered out loud. The other two shushed him. There was a large circle clear of all people save for two. Malcolm, his blonde hair shining gold in the dappled sunlight, clad in a breastplate over chain and cloth, appeared every inch the rugged folk hero. He had a finely made longsword and was working the crowd up to a fever pitch. ¡°Good folk of Thistle! I implore you to see the truth! This villain in the guise of a boy has hidden his true intellect all this while, all the better to corrupt the maiden Riselda! Alas, it is too late for her¡­she is no longer pure! And this is the foul scum that first defiled her!¡± He pointed savagely at his foe. The crowd jeered, caught up in his rhetoric. ¡°Eh? What the hell?¡± Nyakka exclaimed, her eyebrows rising. ¡°That can¡¯t be true, right?¡± Narghel rubbed his jaw. ¡°¡­True or not, we don¡¯t know the whole story. I wouldn¡¯t take blondie¡¯s words at face value right now, though. He¡¯s giving me a ¡®douchebag¡¯ vibe.¡± Isaac, on the other hand, was silent as the grave. However harmless he normally looked, now he was wearing a full set of scale mail, hard leather boots and long leather gloves. His wide, innocent eyes were now narrowed in quiet fury. He was a warrior at the moment, with all frivolous parts carved cleanly away. The saber at his side was sheathed in an unusual scabbard and worn almost horizontal to the ground. Its pommel was a hollow oval broken by a wide gap. Its unusual appearance was commented on fairly often. Isaac himself knew that it was a [Mage Knight]¡¯s weapon, with a rune foci circuit he had personally inscribed down the length of the blade. Aside from that, its hilt hid the finished version of a rune array he had been working on almost constantly for three weeks. However, whatever special functions the sword had would not be used today. The third and final rune circuit still needed to be engraved into the sheath. That was fine. He did not intend on using magic in this duel anyway. For now, his unnamed saber still made a perfectly fine sword. Isaac remembered a day like this, so long ago. Back then, he saw a kid the same age as him being kicked around by a group of bullies. He had tried to do the right thing and yelled for a teacher, but it just ended up with the bullies switching targets to him. The rest of his school life was miserable thanks to that and he had become accustomed to keeping his head down and ignoring everything. But that was not a solution, in the end. Even in this virtual world, he had been beaten down. Because he did nothing. He never had friends, so he was not so sure if the relationship he had with Riselda friendship or not. He was unsure and a little frightened that her moods affected his. Right now, his worries were scoured away. Malcolm had hurt her. Out of petty, stupid reasons, he had done something unforgivable to her. This time, he will not do nothing. Stupid or not, reckless or not, Isaac had enough of pretending that the hurt of others did not matter to him. If he got hurt in the process, then so be it. This. Will. Stop. The crowd noticed his silent intensity. It was a counterpoint to the fiery passion of Malcolm. ¡°Now draw, knave!¡± Malcolm shouted as he turned to face Isaac, unsheathing his weapon with a resounding ring. ¡°I shall punish you for your misdeeds!¡± Isaac clasped the hilt of his sword with a firm yet gentle grip. He drew the saber soundlessly out. No sense harming the edge of the blade, even if [Wishblade] protected the steel. Both combatants fell into neutral stances, their swords in front and ready to defend. Malcolm was using a different style, Isaac noted. It seemed to favor a more upright posture than the one Nils taught. Isaac was holding his saber one-handed, his free hand hovering near the wand holster he had strapped off-center to his chest. Malcolm was the first to move. He stepped forward, firm and steady, his sword probing in short series of jabbing thrusts and quick slashes. Isaac deflected the first strike and shuffled backwards, putting himself out of reach. Malcolm did not pursue, drawing back as well. The way the Lion Poukha fought had indeed changed from his time in Nils¡¯ training, Isaac noted. Those movements were fast and strong. ¡°You are outmatched!¡± Malcolm announced in triumph. ¡°Did you think that I was idle at home? Since young, I¡¯ve been receiving private tutors at home! This is the sword style of a Royal Guard!¡± He raised his sword back into neutral guard. ¡°Yield and spare yourself humiliation!¡± The crowd muttered, impressed. The Royal Guard was made up of only the best and brightest. No wonder, then, that he had such confidence. Yet, Isaac remained silent and unmoved. Without a word, Isaac went on the offensive. His feet glided across the ground, his saber twisting in short, sharp slices. Even as the first cut was deflected by the longsword, he let the momentum flow into a cross-cut from the opposite direction. A sudden turn of the wrist revealed a strike to the ribs as a feint ¨C the real target was Malcolm¡¯s thigh. None of the blows reached their targets. Malcolm¡¯s defense was solid as his longsword deflected them all away. Isaac pressed in with a stronger slash. His opponent¡¯s longsword easily caught it. He did not intend to turn this into a blade lock, so Isaac simply leaned into the strike, his free hand pushing against the dull back of his saber as he slid past and away from Malcolm. The combatants separated once more, now standing in each other¡¯s initial spots. ¡°Weak!¡± Malcolm laughed. ¡°Your blows have no conviction! Do you understand now?¡± He began to pace, while Isaac mirrored his stride. ¡°I am the hero here! What need do you have for this needless struggle? Just admit your crimes and seek forgiveness!¡± Letting out a breath, Isaac slid his saber back into his sheath. The ¡®click¡¯ as the hilt met the metal lip of the sheath rang out in the sudden silence in the clearing. Malcolm smirked victoriously as the crowd began to mutter in disappointment. ¡°Did that private tutor of yours teach you to fence with your tongue?¡± Isaac¡¯s retort was the first words he had spoken since the start. His boots scuffed the ground as he lowered himself into a new, strange stance, his left hand holding the sheath firmly and his right hand hovering over the grip of his saber. ¡°Shut up and fight.¡± Bara-thon felt his own eyebrows begin to rise. ¡°Oi. That¡¯s¡­Is that what I think it is?¡± Malcolm frowned in confusion. ¡°What on earth are you doing?¡± He asked, incredulous. ¡°Bah, nevermind. I¡¯ll put an end to this farce!¡± He stepped forward, exerting great strength in an overhead strike. In the back of the crowd, Nils scoffed quietly. ¡°Hrm. He never did come back to watch the training, huh?¡± Isaac¡¯s saber hissed as it was pulled out of its sheath in a [Drawing Slice]. Arm and sword blurred from the speed of the blow. Malcolm barely reacted in time. He aborted his attack and wrenched his sword down to parry the strike, succeeding only partially. Stumbling backwards, his hands numb from the force, he looked down to see a smooth gash in his iron breastplate *Click* Isaac¡¯s sword was back in its sheath. The crowd had fallen into a dead hush. Malcolm looked up, caution and alarm finally penetrating his shell of confidence. Isaac lunged forwards. His saber left its sheath again with a near-silent hiss in a diagonal upstroke. Malcolm¡¯s longsword rang as he blocked, only to suffer the second strike of [Mirrored Moon] after Isaac dashed past and pivoted on the balls of his feet, his saber flashing as it dealt a descending slash to Malcolm¡¯s back. Slender twin crescents, joined together at the arc, hung in the air - the visual effect of the Skill. Once again, Malcolm proved to be more than a blowhard as he stepped forwards, turning a clean hit into a grazing blow that tore chainmail and scraped across his backplate Recovering quickly, he spun around and thrust twice, his longsword leaving sullen red stars. [Serpent Jaws]. For the first time in this fight, Malcolm used a Skill. It forced Isaac to retreat as he deflected the deadly points Their blades crisscrossed furiously, trying to prevent each other from unleashing yet more deadly Skills. Malcolm overextended on a lunge, discovering that Isaac¡¯s unusual sheath could also be used as a bludgeon when it was swung hard into his breastplate . He choked from the force and staggered away. Isaac was gripping the sheath by the extra handle attached near the opening. As they watched, he placed it back at side where the sheath re-attached itself to a metal plate with a sharp ¡®thunk¡¯. The Lion Poukha snarled inaudibly. Suddenly, he let his longsword fall to the ground. As the point of the weapon hit the dirt with a ¡®clink¡¯, Isaac¡¯s instincts flared up in warning. ¡°[RIP WAVE]!¡± Malcolm shouted as he dragged his blade forwards in an upward strike, unleashing a churning blast of light at Isaac. The crowd screamed behind him. Isaac¡¯s eyes widened. If he dodged, the attack would hit the bystanders! His mind was blank only for a split second. Regaining reason, he did the first thing he could think of. He ripped a wand off his holster. ¡°Frozen jaws devour the earth ¨C [Arctic Bulwark]!¡± He threw as much magic as he could into the spell even as he omitted the second verse. The wand cracked and burst into splinters in his hand, unable to withstand the barely-controlled magical surge even as a thick wall of ice erupted from the ground in front of him. The [Rip Wave] met ice as hard as steel and ground furiously against it. The wall split with a resounding crack, but the energy wave had already spent its power and dissipated in flash of steam and light. < Break!> Sensing the wind shift, Isaac spun around only to see Malcolm, his face distorted in rage, with his hands over his head already swinging his longsword down to cleave his foe into two. The moment seemed to stretch into infinity. He was roaring wordlessly, his voice thundering in Isaac¡¯s ears. (The Unborn Rothound¡¯s tortured shriek tore drilled into his head.) Malcolm¡¯s wrath was nothing. The wooden splinters of the wand had dug through leather and into the flesh beneath. Blood was welling in his glove. (Feet and fists hammered into his body. A whiskey bottle broke, and a skull broke beneath it. A stone thudded off his forehead, yet the teachers averted their eyes.) The pain from mere torn flesh was nothing. The longsword gleamed sinisterly in the light as it fell. (Nils raised his massive greatsword over his head. Isaac raised his own saber, though his hands trembled. How could he hope to deflect this huge slab of steel?) This flimsy sword was nothing. Isaac¡¯s saber tapped almost gently into the side of the falling longsword. One hand pulled, the other pushed. With that gentle tap, the attack was levered aside. How could it not? Malcolm¡¯s attack was light as a feather, after all. Isaac took a step forwards. He saw Malcolm¡¯s face slacken in surprise just before the pommel of the saber broke his nose . His longsword fell from his grip as he fell onto his rear *Click* The man sitting on the ground before Isaac froze at the sharp sound, his eyes popping open to stare at the armed warrior before him. Isaac saw the realization take hold, the pupils of Malcolm¡¯s eyes constrict to tiny pinpricks in fear. Even though Malcom''s HP is not empty, he was utterly vulnerable. All Isaac had to do was to hit his neck, where he had no armor. With a single [Drawing Slice], he could kill this man. He could send this cowardly lion¡¯s head flying off for the pain this scum had caused to Riselda and himself. For several heartbeats, he considered this decision. Would he kill? Would he not? ¡­No. Isaac never felt pleasure after a kill. Only numbness during the act, and a pang of remorse after. He was still feeling the scalding fury in his veins, but he wanted justice more than he wanted blood. His crime did not warrant death. Not this time. The sheathed saber slammed into the man¡¯s jaw. Malcolm fell to the earth, unconscious and defeated. ----------------------- Looking down at Malcolm¡¯s unconscious form, the adrenaline rush of the fight left Isaac. He drew in deep breaths of air, feeling mentally drained. He distractedly noted the soft chime and flashing icons in his HUD that indicated the new skills and attributes he had gained. ¡°AHAHAHA-! THAT WAS AWESOME!¡± With a yelp, Isaac¡¯s head was suddenly caught by what felt like steel cables. Then, he felt leather on the opposite side of his face. His eyes instantly glanced to that side and- ¡°Ghk!¡± Nyakka had him in a headlock. ¡°DUDE! You went all samurai on ¡®im! Where the hell did you learn that, huh?¡± She demanded boisterously. The crowd was muttering, cheering and booing all at once. Opinions seemed very divided. From his viewpoint underneath Nyakka¡¯s arm, Isaac could see his fellow trainee Mikkre in the process of staring down a raccoon Poukha. ¡°Move. Aside.¡± A voice cracked above the crowd¡¯s noise. The sheer frozen threat in that one voice caused people to hop aside obediently, leaving a clear passage in the crowd of Svartalfar. Riselda stood there, framed by suddenly nervous villagers. Her face was an emotionless mask, but her eyes glowed with leashed magic. Normally a deep green, the glow turned them into bright warning beacons. She held her mage¡¯s staff in a white-knuckled grip, her other hand clasped around a dirty, sheathed longsword. She strode into the center of the clearing and struck the butt of her staff into the ground with a loud ¡®thump¡¯. The earth rose, bearing her aloft on a platform shaped by magic. Riselda stood on a podium, looking down imperiously on everyone. Her eyes sought targets in the crowd, pinning them with a lambent stare. She raised the dirt encrusted sword above her head. ¡°Folk of Thistle. Do you recognize this?¡± She asked, her voice low and trembling with suppressed wrath. ¡°Come, tell me. Does this blade look familiar to you?¡± She let go of her staff, leaving it standing upright in the dirt, before ripping the sheath off the longsword and hurling it over the heads of the villagers. Several people yelped and ducked to avoid the flying leather missile. ¡°What¡¯re you playin¡¯ at, you scarlet woman?¡± A rather plain girl shouted. She had an ugly frown on her face. Riselda ignored her, even though several people in healer uniforms let out an outraged shout at the plain girl¡¯s words. She continued casting looks around. ¡°Anyone? Surely you must have seen this at some point? Why, only last month someone was waving it about, bragging of how he¡¯d be a knight with it!¡± She held it out towards them, drawing attention to the gilded hilt. ¡°Look! A hilt shaped like a Griffon! How eye-catching! How splendid!¡± She sneered. Isaac saw rabbit-eared Jacine shade her eyes with one hand. ¡°Aye, that¡¯s Malcolm¡¯s old sword, as I breathe!¡± She drawled. ¡°The Griffon an¡¯ all. ¡®Twas the mark of some renowned blacksmith from Mercia¡­so he claimed!¡± ¡°Hogwash!¡± Seamus the blacksmith bellowed. ¡°Ah made that blade meself! Ungrateful brat! Ah¡¯ll swear it ¡®ere and now, that¡¯s the sword ah forged fer ¡®im!¡± Adelaide¡¯s voice rose from the opposite side of the crowd. ¡°Hey! He said it was broken when he fought off the Unborn!¡± Before now, many member of the crowd had already recognized the blade. It had spots of rust, but it was most glaringly unbroken. An angry mutter was building up. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Lies! Lies and slander!¡± a voice shouted. ¡°¡¯Tis fabricated! A sham!¡± ¡°YER CALLIN¡¯ ME A LIAR?¡± Seamus roared. ¡°YER CAN¡¯T FAKE RUST LIKE THAT! AH¡¯M THE SMITH! AH SHOULD KNOW, IDIOTS!¡± The villagers around him had their hands clamped to their ears. ¡°Enough!¡± Kiernan the Druid pushed past the crowd. He held a staff that looked like many vines twined together and wreathed with green leaves. The crowd¡¯s noise dipped instantly. That staff meant he was now exercising his official authority as a Druid. The stag Poukha¡¯s face was set in a solemn scowl. Raising his hand, he began to speak. ¡°I, Kiernan Arllown, Druid of the Thistle Leystone Circle, hereby declare my words to be inviolable truth. Under the eyes of the Greenmother, over the veins of the Land, may they strike me down should I utter falsehood. Thus witnessed!¡± The earth let out a deep rumble. ¡°I so swear that this longsword was personally found and retrieved by my hands from a pothole half a day¡¯s walk away from Thistle, towards the South! I so swear that, upon the moment I fully laid eyes on this weapon, I recognized it as former property of Malcolm Kerns, son of Isaiah Kerns, the Alderman of the village of Thistle! I so swear that, on the date of the discovery, no more than seven days had passed! Thus I have spoken, thus shall I be judged!¡± For a long moment, there was no reaction. Then, a ring of white flowers rapidly sprouted around the Druid¡¯s feet. Riselda¡¯s stoic mask broke at this sight, revealing a truly vicious smile. ¡°You should not have escalated, Malcolm. I am much better at it than you are.¡± She hissed to herself, even as the crowd erupted into utter bedlam. ----------------------- Victory was a bittersweet thing, in the end. Alderman Kerns had finally become so outraged he had charged into the clearing to gather up his precious son and deliver a thundering ultimatum. ¡°OUT! I WANT YOU TWO OUT OF THIS VILLAGE! NEVER RETURN AGAIN, YOU MISERABLE VERMIN! I CAST YOU, ISAAC AND YOU, RISELDA, OUT OF THISTLE!¡± Kiernan¡¯s expression had instantly gone utterly black, while Farah had gone to argue their case with the Alderman. That had been hours ago and she had yet to return. It was probably not going well at all. Right now, he was lying in bed, checking his status. Doing anything to avoid thinking about it.
Name:Isaac
Race:Svartalfar (Poukha)
Titles:Puppy, Duelist, Reckless Savior, Wrongful Exile
Satiety:64/100
HP: 620/620 (Base Armor: 200)SURGE: (o)==(o)==(o)
Vigor: 27(+14)Reflex: 34(+12)Intellect: 24(+10)
Charisma: 15Spirit: 20(+5)Virtue: 5
Traits:Leyline Essence, Lost Child, Wishblade(Rank 1), Style Pioneer
Spoiler: Titles
Duelist
You have fought and won against a Player/NPC. Glory to the victor! You gain the title [Duelist]! You are eligible for the Imperial Colosseum! Vigor +1 Spirit +1
Wrongful Exile
You have been exiled from a settlement. The reasons in this case were dubious at best and everyone knows it! You gain the title [Wrongful Exile]! You cannot enter [Thistle] openly! Virtue Loss Negated! As long as this Title remains, the Community Leader that exiled you will continue to take a -5 Virtue penalty until he revokes the decision! Each time he refuses an official petition to do this, the penalty grows!
Reckless Savior
Jumping into a fight to save someone is a pretty good start for a Hero. Doing it without any weapons and armor though...are you aware that people die when they''re killed? You gain the title [Reckless Savior]! +50% speed when your companions are in danger! Take 20% more damage when your companions are in danger...
Spoiler: Passive Skills
One-Handed Proficiency Lvl.19
Passive
Mastery over single-grip weapons including shortswords, handaxes, maces etc. Unlocks One-handed Skills. +95% Damage. +19% Attack Speed. +9 Reflex +4 Vigor
Mailed Coat Lvl.14
Passive
Your preferred armor is strong, yet supple enough for you to move quickly and speedily. You are a versatile survivor! +420 HP Mitigates 7% of Speed Penalty +3 Reflex +3 Vigor
Arcane Warrior Lvl. 15
Passive (Discipline)
You have studied the disciplines of the Mage Knights. Everytime you strike, your magic ignites in your body and gives you more power! Replaces [Practiced Caster Lvl 18.], [Tireless Lvl. 20] Replaces your MP and SP with a tiered Charge gauge - It always has 1 Tier Charged, hits increase Charge. Any Charge above Tier 1 slowly drains if not used. 3 Charge Tiers +5 Intellect +5 Vigor Spell costs are now Verse = Tier to cast *Only one Discipline skill may be in use at a time. The original Discipline will have a 1 hour cooldown once you switch.
Sword Style: Argent Glint Lvl.6
Passive/Mode
A Sword Style pioneered by a relatively unknown Mage Knight, who sees potential in utilizing both a focus weapon and its sheath together in combat. Emphasizes drawing strikes from the scabbard. It was inspired by Mage battle staves, hich often include solid metal cores so that they could withstand the rigors of battle. In the future, a Mage-Knight skilled in this style can smoothly switch between melee and fully powered spells in pitched combat. +1 Vigor +1 Int Develop this style and spread its fame to unlock more bonuses.
Spoiler: Active Magic
Student of Frost Lvl.12
Active
You command the biting cold of Ice Magic. Unlocks up to 2 Verses of the Rime Chants. Next Unlock: lvl 20 You may Silent Cast up to 1 Verse +14% Ice Damage +1 Intellect +1 Spirit
Frozen Jaws Devour the Earth, Agony before the Silent Sleep, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of WrathWhite Fortress in unending Vigil, Twin Crowns at World''s End, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of Calm
Student of Flame Lvl. 14
Active
You command the devouring rage of Fire Magic. Unlocks up to 2 Verses of the Incarnadine Chants. Next unlock: lvl. 20 You may Silent Cast up to 1 Verse +14% Fire Damage +1 Intellect +1 Spirit
A Wrathful voice, thus Engraved, Ashen Dust is my Wake, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of Wrath Memoirs of Lovers in Red, Thy Embrace wards the Dark, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of Calm
Student of Wind Lvl. 13
Active
You command the howling chaos of Wind Magic. Unlocks up to 2 Verses of the Sky-Song Chants. Next unlock: lvl. 20 You may Silent Cast up to 1 Verse +14% Damage to Wind Spells +1 Intellect +1 Spirit
In Warring Skies dwell Unseen Blades, Flow, Scatter, Blood and Song, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of Wrath Weave a Cloak of seamless Thread, Start to end, Encircle the World, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of Calm
Student of Storm Lvl. 13
Active
You command the bright death of Lightning Magic. Unlocks up to 2 Verses of the Fulgurous Chants. Next unlock: lvl. 20 You may Silent Cast up to 1 Verse +14% Lightning Damage +1 Intellect +1 Spirit
Pure lance! Bright lance! Five-pointed Brionac, Aim once and strike true, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of Wrath Chariot of Iron and Shade, Heed now this adamant Command, ??? ??? ??? ??? Chant of Calm
No use, he still felt a sullen knot of unspent anger in his chest. This was obviously an abuse of power. Even though his son had been in the wrong, the Alderman had chosen to punish the victims instead! His Mom had never tried to coddle him when Isaac himself made mistakes. His old teachers at school, though¡­they played favorites. In fact, this situation was pretty similar. The most infuriating thing about this whole outcome was being unable to prevent the harm being dealt to Riselda. Isaac never saw the foul plots coming. In the end, they would have to leave Thistle the next day. He had been planning to leave all along¡­ But Riselda had been kicked out of her own home. Such Stupidity. ¡­With Farah and Kiernan still out dealing with that idiot of an Alderman, there was nobody with Riselda. Isaac knew how it felt. He hated it, the times when nobody would even try to help. But the other unpopular kids were just the same as him. Nobody came to help them either. It did not ¡®make them tough¡¯ like father had said. It just made all of them, Isaac included, cold and bitter inside. That was not the same as tough. That was the thought that drove Isaac from his room. He knocked gently on Riselda¡¯s door. ¡°Who is it?¡± came her voice. It sounded a little hoarse. He could hear the coldness in it, just like he expected. ¡°It¡¯s me, Riselda. C-Can I come in? Just to talk for a while?¡± He asked hopefully. He felt a strange anxiety grow inside. There was silence. ¡°¡­No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± She replied. ¡°Just leave me alone.¡± Isaac was also expecting this, but he had no idea how to resolve this. He could not just walk away, either. ¡°I know you¡¯re in a bad mood, but¡­give it some thought, please?¡± ¡°Go away, Isaac.¡± She replied. ¡­He had to give it one last try. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll go. But¡­would you mind if I brewed some tea for you?¡± ¡°¡­Fine.¡± Isaac made the tea and left it outside her door. Returning to his room, he heard the door to her room open and shut. Nobody won today, Isaac realized. Everybody lost something because a man wanted petty revenge for things that he wrongfully blamed on others rather than admit he was wrong. Did Isaac¡¯s actions cause everything to get worse? That might very well be true. But then again, he knew that Riselda would have exposed Malcolm¡¯s lies anyway. What if¡­ The night wore on. Isaac, full of doubt, did not sleep a wink. Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Bramgild Fields, Maergard ¡°Hm? Wait, stop for a moment.¡± ¡°Mr. Adler? Why are we stopping? ¡°Ma¡¯am, please call me Brotastic in-game. It¡¯s not safe to use my real name, especially since I¡¯m a GM.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, Mister, uh¡­Brotastic.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not mad, Ma¡¯am. It¡¯s okay. Anyway, your son¡¯s position is changing. He seems to be¡­ah, he¡¯s heading for the border village we¡¯re going to!¡± ¡°R-really? Let¡¯s hurry there now!¡± ¡°Can do, Ma¡¯am.¡± ---------------------- Merchant caravan, Briarweald Isaac felt the rumbling of the wheels as they rolled over the uneven ground. The merchant carriage was enchanted for stability to protect the delicate goods within from tumbling during transport, but it was not powerful enough to mute all of the jostling. A domesticated monster, which looked like a scaled antelope the size of a normal horse, pulled it with tireless strength. It had been a few days since he and Riselda had left Thistle. Nyakka, Bara-thon and Narghel had actually been hired by a merchant caravan as escorts. They had stopped over in Thistle for a brief rest, which was why they were able to put a good word in to the caravan master. In turn, the senior merchant had agreed to let them hitch a ride to Arv?nnr, a Maer(Human) Border Town built near the fringes of the Briarweald. In return, they would serve as caravan guards for the duration of the journey. Isaac, like all the other Players in the caravan had incredible stamina and recovery times compared to the rest of the guards. They followed the schedule and changed shifts to be fair to everyone, though. Every guard¡¯s salary depended on all of them working their own fair share, after all. The times which he met Riselda had only been in passing, and any words were brief and polite. Then, today, he found himself sitting next to her in the same carriage during their break. It was just as awkward as he had been secretly dreading. Isaac glanced at Riselda out of the corner of his eye. She was no longer wearing the admittedly dumpy Healer¡¯s uniform and its accompanying medicine-stained apron. She was wearing a modest, if worn, dress with a leather vest laced tight enough to be comfortably secure. Even with the plain outfit, she was still very pretty. It was a truly startling difference, but he deduced that Riselda must have downplayed her natural looks to discourage her unwanted suitor. And then, there was her hair. It was still gathered in a short braid that hung down to her shoulderblades, but now it was a deep burgundy, like the colour of rich wine. Isaac realized with a jolt that Riselda had caught him staring. ¡°¡­Is there something wrong with my hair, Isaac?¡± She asked, hesitantly. ¡°Ah?! Er, no. It¡¯s¡­¡± Isaac felt like an oaf, stumbling over his own words. ¡°Um, I mean, I remember your hair being brown. Um¡­¡± ¡°Oh. Yes. That.¡± She replied, blinking. ¡°I dyed my hair when I¡­¡± She faltered, before continuing. ¡°This is the original color of my hair. What does it matter to you?¡± She asked as a hint of defensiveness entered her tone. ¡°I like it.¡± Isaac blurted out honestly. ¡°It looks pleasant to me. Like¡­you¡­¡± His brain caught up to his mouth and he looked down, feeling his entire head burn. ¡°¡­¡± Riselda was studiously looking away from him. Above the collar of her dress, the skin visible on her neck was flushed pink. (In the wagon following theirs, two girls had their hands clamped over their mouths to avoid squealing. The cart driver, his hat pulled over his head and pretending he saw nothing, had a secret smile on his face.) There was a sigh. ¡°Isaac, I owe you an apology.¡± Riselda admitted in a soft voice. ¡°You tried to be supportive that night, yet I turned you away. Truthfully speaking, ¡®twas in my right to refuse - it¡¯s not right for a man to be in a lady¡¯s room at night if they are not promised to one another. However, I know you were only trying to reassure me. I trust that you had pure intentions at the time.¡± She smiled reassuringly. Isaac digested her words and nodded. ¡°You don¡¯t have to apologize for anything. I just made a mess of things, after all.¡± ¡°If you blame yourself, I will be cross with you.¡± Riselda warned him sharply. ¡°You do not control the Alderman¡¯s actions. Don¡¯t insult Farah and Kiernan¡¯s efforts, either. They¡¯ve sworn to right this wrong already, so have faith in them.¡± Properly chastised, Isaac had no other choice but to say, ¡°I understand.¡± ¡°That aside,¡± Riselda continued, ¡°I would have accompanied you even if nothing had happened. I was planning to leave on a journey of self-discovery. ¡®Tis simple logic to gather companions for such a dangerous venture.¡± She concluded. Isaac found her ¡®simple logic¡¯ a little strange, but he reminded himself that he did not know her well enough to pry into her motivations as of yet. Yet, he still felt a niggling little urge to know. It was not quite curiosity¡­ ¡°Hehe¡­Seems like quite a good mood in here, myeh?¡± purred a smug voice. Isaac jumped in his seat, while Riselda shot to the farthest end of the wagon with a strangled squeak, her cheeks colored an incandescent red. Nyakka was peeking in from the driver¡¯s seat, having hopped on earlier. She was peering at them both with half-lidded, impish eyes, a wide smile on her lips. (In the wagon behind them, two girls let out an irritated ¡°Tch!¡±. The driver frowned under his hat, muttering, ¡°Bad form, lassie.¡±) Isaac felt his racing heartbeat slow. ¡°N-Nyakka? Is your shift over?¡± ¡°Hey, I told you to call me Onee-chan, Bushido*-kun.¡± She drawled languidly, even as her smile grew wider and her tail curled mischievously ¡°To answer your question, yeah. My shift¡¯s done. We¡¯re about to stop for the night too. Just came over to tell ya that Orbost¡¯s bunch has the night watch.¡± Her smile turned into a shit-eating grin. ¡°Well, pretty good news for lovebirds like you two, I think.¡± Suddenly, Nyakka found her nose an inch away from the business end of a mage staff, which was glowing quite menacingly. ¡°Walk or Freeze.¡± Riselda ordered, her voice practically dripping icicles. Nyakka fled from the carriage, but the trailing notes of her impish laughter were left behind her. ¡°Uhuhuhu¡­..!¡± The two people left in the back of the wagon would not look at each other for the rest of the day. --------------------- The next day, the merchant caravan left the Briarweald forest. For those who had long since grown used to the gentle dimness of the forest boughs, the unobstructed rays of the sun was blinding. Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the glare until they could finally see the gentle hills that surrounded them. All in front of them, the gently rolling hills of the Bramgild Plains spread from horizon to horizon. The wood and stone of Arv?nnr was already visible from where they had emerged. The road beneath them would lead them straight there. Unlike the forest, everyone could now see monsters coming from far away. There was a sense of easing tension amongst everyone, though those whom called the forests home could not help but feel slightly exposed without the shades of the trees. There remained only 2 days¡¯ journey left to the human town. That night, Isaac found himself sitting beside Bara-thon. The Bull Saelkhy turned out to be friendlier than his fierce appearance indicated. ¡°¡­Right, so don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you now. Don¡¯t ¡®hold out for a rare drop¡¯ like I did, because later I found out you have to [gather materials] from the mobs and the world, get them to a blacksmith and tell them to make the items you want.¡± Bara-thon warned. ¡°When they tell you a material is [rare], it means it came from a named mob or boss that¡¯s [Rare to Find] and not because its RNG drop chance is small. In the end, I had to log out and come back when the boss respawned so I could kill it. Again.¡± He gave a snort of laughter. ¡°Boy, did I feel like an idiot afterwards. Myth/Real is pretty realistic that way, if you think about it. There¡¯s no way a giant spider is going to miraculously drop gold coins and some ¡®magic +5 sword of whatever¡¯ once you cut it open.¡± Isaac nodded enthusiastically. Bara-thon and friends were experienced adventurers and had much wisdom to share. That, and many, many tales of hilarious shenanigans. ¡°Hm¡­anything else now¡­¡± The burly man hummed thoughtfully. His eyes drifted over to Nyakka, who was drooling away while staring at a roasting Auroch shank as it was turned on a spit. He began to grin in a particularly nasty way. ¡°Say, did I tell you about the time Nyakka was a [Sumo]?¡± ¡°¡­What exactly do you mean, [Sumo]?¡± Isaac asked, confused. ¡°Shh!¡± Bara-thon waved frantically. ¡°Keep it down!¡± He cast a cautious look over at his underdressed team member. Once he was sure she was too distracted, he leaned over and opened a screen for Isaac to see. The mere sight of the image was enough to cause Isaac¡¯s eyes to bulge. ¡°Pft!¡± His shoulder shook with suppressed laughter. ¡°H-H-How did t-tha- Pfahah-! That! Happen?!¡± ¡°Heh. This happened because Narghel was grinding his [Cooking] skill and offloading all both his successes and failures onto us to carry.¡± Bara-thon began. ¡°We only just scraped by killing a Rock Trampler, so Narghel decided to cook the entire damn thing in the name of revenge! ¡° Bara-thon raised a finger. ¡°Now, at this point of time, we¡¯ve never seen what happens when a Player goes over their [Satiety] limit. What¡¯s worse, Nyakka isn¡¯t exactly what you call patient and her Restoration item was out of energy. The [Whole Roast Trampler] would boost HP, HP regen and Vigor while increasing [Satiety] by 80 when eaten. We chose that moment to turn around and organize our loot.¡± The Bull¡¯s face twisted into a wry grin. ¡°When we turned around, our dear [Pugilist] was on her way to becoming a [Sumo]¡­¡± ¡°BA-RA-THON.¡± Came a very furious voice. ¡°WHAT have I said about telling anyone else about THAT STORY?!¡± ¡°Shiiiiit.¡± Bara-thon breathed calmly, before leaping off his seat and sprinting away. Nyakka was hot on his heels. ¡°GET BACK HERE, YOU HAMBURGER BASTARD! I¡¯LL MURDERIZE YOU!¡± ¡°HELL NO, YOU STRIPPER! SLOW DOWN BEFORE THAT BELT YOU CALL A SHIRT FALLS OFF!¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.¡°JOKE¡¯S ON YOU! IT¡¯S ENCHANTED! DON¡¯T GET YOUR HOPES UP!¡± ¡°WITH THAT WASHBOARD CHEST OF YOURS, NO WONDER IT NEEDS MAGIC!¡± ¡°M-MYAAA--?! I¡¯LL HAVE YOU KNOW I¡¯M A B-CUP! I¡¯M NOT FLAT!¡± ¡°YOU ADMITTED YOUR OWN CUP SIZE IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY? YOU EXHIBITIONIST!¡± ¡°THAT¡¯S YOUR FAULT! ASSHOLE! SCUM! HENTAI!¡± ¡°They¡¯re such good friends¡­¡± Isaac thought to himself, feeling a little envious. --------------------- The next day, the walls of Arv?nnr drew closer and closer. However, the sense of security had disappeared fairly early on. In the morning, there was a commotion spotted on the horizon. There were sightings of what looked like a large bird swooping down on something they could not see. At first, it was just an interesting sight, not worth worrying over. As the day wore on, the ¡®large bird¡¯ had been getting closer and closer. Gradually, they began to see not just the wide wings, but also four legs. They heard its predatory screeches, so loud they carried over the distance. It was a Griffon. It was also incredibly enraged. The caravan leader made the call and ordered every wagon to make haste towards the safety of the town walls, but it soon became clear that they would fall agonizingly short as the Griffon rapidly closed in on the caravan and the road. Isaac and Riselda had hopped down from the wagons and were gathering at the defensive line out towards the side of the trail. By now, the town¡¯s warning bells were ringing and they could see archers gathering on the walls. The two of them were gathered together with Nyakka, Bara-thon and Narghel. This was not an accident, as the trio was responsible for their conduct. Nyakka had equipped a set of bulky metallic gloves and boots, Bara-thon was hefting a massive maul in his hands while Narghel had equipped an ornate staff with a sharp spike of rune-inscribed bronze capping it. Orbost, who was a Player Svartalfar of red fox lineage, was standing much farther down the line. He strung his bow with one swift motion before peering out at the incoming monster. Abruptly, he pointed and gave an indistinct shout. Isaac followed the pointing finger with his eyes. Next to him, he heard Narghel inhale sharply. ¡°There¡¯s Players out there!¡± He exclaimed. He was right. Now that they were close enough, they could see that the Griffon was engaged in a running battle with several figures on the ground. One of them had full plate armor which was shining brightly in the sun. The archers on the walls of the town were already raining arrows on the flying monster, but they were being blown horrendously off course with each massive wing-beat. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we go and help?¡± Isaac asked, his gaze darting between Bara-thon and the battle. The Bull-cloaked Saelkhy opened his mouth ¨C but that was as far as he got. The embattled Players suddenly turned and ran straight for the caravan guards. ¡°What the F-¡± The expletive was cut short by the Griffon¡¯s enraged shriek as it dove right towards Orbost¡¯s section of the line. FERAL GRIFFON TYRANT It plowed through the men, and into the carts beyond them, tossing men, wood and debris into the air. Several screams tore through the air as the Griffon dragged itself to a stop beyond the line. ¡°Shit!¡± Bara-thon let the word explode from his mouth. ¡°We need to get there now!¡± He ordered even as he began to charge. ¡°On it!¡± Nyakka confirmed. Her powerful, muscled legs bunched and shot her forwards, her exceedingly light gear and training turning her into a speeding arrow. She blurred towards the Griffon, covering half the distance in what seemed like no time at all. Narghel, though, was suddenly distracted by something. ¡°Oh my god, you assholes!¡± He whispered harshly. Isaac looked as he ran, only to see the original four Players seemed to be fading at the edges. ¡°Those fuckers better not be trying what I think they¡¯re trying¡­¡± The masked mage muttered under his breath. As Isaac passed the wooden wreckage of a cart, he saw a girl, pulling futilely at an arm sticking from a pile of broken wood. There was the torn corpse of a man with a hat lying nearby. There was blood everywhere. ¡°Ellie! ELLIE! Please, don¡¯t leave me!¡± He heard her voice fade as he passed her by and his teeth ground together. The Griffon ahead had lost sight of its original aggressors, but it was not the slightest bit appeased. It charged at the targets it could see now, shrieking. Nyakka intercepted it with a flying kick to its beak, disrupting its charge. It screamed in fury and swiped its eagle-taloned foreclaw at her. She danced out of reach and met the following swipe with punch and a roar of her own. ¡°That¡¯s right! Play with Nyakka, Kentucky!¡± The narrowing of the beast¡¯s eyes was the first sign of its dangerous intelligence. Blowing Nyakka backwards with a mighty flap of its wings was the second. The catgirl pugilist went tumbling backwards, cursing and spitting as she went. A volley of arrows whizzed over her and struck the Griffon. Orbost the archer plucked an arrow from between his sharp teeth and nocked it, standing together with the surviving marksmen from his squad. The Griffon blew the second volley away, but it was a distraction for heavily armored shield-bearers to charge right up to the monster. Bara-thon stopped Isaac with a hand on the shoulder. ¡°Hold up. Let the [Tanks] gain aggro first.¡± He said. They did not have to wait long. With a loud roar, the Tanks were gave their all in a spirited assault, hacking and slashing away with weapons of all kinds. However, Isaac grimly noted that the Griffon seemed to be feeling little more than annoyance from this, even as its claws struck sparks at shields. They did succeed in their main goals, for the Griffon was now looking directly at them. ¡°MOVE, YOU FOOLS!¡± The caravan leader¡¯s voice rang. ¡°CLEAR THE WRECKAGE! GET THOSE CARRIAGES INTO THE TOWN! DO IT NOW! Bleedin¡¯ Gods, girl, we don¡¯t have time for this! It¡¯s too late for them! Leave the dead and save yourself!¡± ¡°No! Ellie! Ellie! I don¡¯t¡­I won¡¯t¡­!¡± ¡°Use Fire Magic!¡± Riselda¡¯s voice called out from behind them. ¡°Burn its pinions and ground the monster!¡± A volley of missiles soared overhead. This time, they were not arrows but fiery spears and darts, roaring and hissing their deadly way through the air! They exploded against the Griffon and it screamed in pain. Unfortunately, though its plumage was scorched, it did not burn. Its gaze snapped onto the casters with laser intensity and its great wings rose menacingly. With the sound of a gigantic whip cracking, the Griffon launched itself off the ground with impossible speed for such a huge beast. The fighters engaging it were blown off their feet. Isaac staggered as he covered his face, buffeted by the powerful gust. Isaac lowered his arms in time to spin around and see their spellcasters combine their magic to raise a massive wall of ice. The Griffon slammed into it, shattering the bulwark into slivers, but its attack failed. Talons and claws scraped as it launched itself off the construct, screeching in mounting fury. The rest of the wall collapsed onto the ground amidst a spray of icy water. The shieldbearers had formed up at this point and were putting up an immense racket. Isaac saw the glow of Skills and realized that they must be using [Taunt]s and [Shield Cymbal]s. However, the airborne Griffon only paid them a passing glance and circled around as it began to sink in the air, its glare once more focused onto the spellcasters. ¡°Goddammit!¡± Bara-thon cursed from next to him. ¡°It¡¯s fucking smart! It can disregard aggro!¡± Isaac came to the same conclusion with a mounting horror. The Hate Tusk was easily distracted, but this monster was on a whole other level. Unknown to the people below, the Griffon possessed the Trait [Arrogant Lord]. It treated everything smaller than itself with contempt. That is why taunts do not work on this Elite Monster. Isaac was preparing himself to cast a spell directly into the monster¡¯s path. It was flying relatively straight and presenting a very tempting target¡­but as he raised his sheathed saber, he saw the Griffon¡¯s flight level off just over the ground. The Griffon opened its beak and SCREAMED towards the ground below it as it flew. Everyone shouted and clamped their hands over their ears at the horrific sound. A cone of distortion was pouring from the Griffon¡¯s gaping beak. As it hit the ground, it vanished in a cloud of dust and ripped grass. It was [Blood Mist Dirge].
Pain Resistance Lv.22 -> 23
Agony is no stranger to you. Your have learned to dull pain instinctively and keep moving to avoid the worst of damage. Synchronized Skill!
Isaac, who had the highest [Pain Resistance] in the entire caravan, managed to shrug off the stabbing agony entirely in short order. He saw the Griffon, now dangerously close to the spellcasters. They were struggling to get out of the monster¡¯s path of devastation. Amongst them was Riselda. She staggered as fast as she could, but tripped over her long skirt. She was not a Player. If she died, she stayed dead. That horrible thought ran through Isaac¡¯s mind in that instant. So he ran. He put everything he had into his sprint. The [Blood Mist Dirge] caught two mages and he saw their names turn grey as their skin split under their clothes. Blood sprayed into a fine mist in the air. Isaac prayed ¡°Please reach! Please reach! Please reach!¡± He reached her. Isaac grabbed her waist and heaved her out of the Griffon¡¯s path. He leapt forwards- -PAIN- -------------------- *Bushido is a philosophy followed by Japanese Samurai. They are also famous for having moves that focuses on attacks while drawing a sword from sheaths - Iaido. Arc 1: Closed Beta - Chapter 8 Chapter 8 Kat Walker had the ringing of the town bells filling her ears from all angles, and it was not helping her mood. She, her Mom and GM Brotastic had arrived in Arv?nnr only last night IRL. They had to reluctantly call it a day to get some sleep. When the next day rolled around, her Mom called her day job Boss to try and get a day off. They were going to go meet the wayward son of the Walker family, lost in a coma for 6 years. Kat knew her Mom¡¯s Boss was a pretty hardcore asshole, but she had hoped that some measure of humanity was inside that black heart somewhere. Boy, was she proven wrong. The epic douchebag told her, ¡°Come in for work or don¡¯t come back ever again. I don¡¯t care if someone¡¯s in a goddamn coma, you¡¯re missing your fucking quota!¡± Then he hung up. When Kat logged in and told GM Brotastic about it, the guy actually gaped at her for a good 5 seconds and remarked. ¡°Geez, what an asshole!¡± She agreed entirely. If Boss Asshole was in front of her right now, she¡¯d call her gank squad and let them sort him out. Then when they were done, she¡¯ll ram her gladius in his rear and let him bleed onto the cobblestones while squealing like the pig he was. Unfortunately, that was only wishful thinking. Her Mom tearfully told her to meet up with Isaac first and hurried to work. Fast forward to present time and now this stupid Elite Griffon was screwing everything up. ¡°Good.¡± Kat thought viciously. ¡°I need some stress relief.¡± There were not really many players around in Closed Beta, even though WORLDTREE was pretty much on the verge of shifting the game to Open Beta status. (GM Brotastic thought he had been discreet about it, but Kat already deduced that there was a planned ¡®Stream Upgrade¡¯ that was going to happen very soon.) So, Kat did not bother gathering with anybody else. She was going to go out, call her troops and kill that overgrown bird rampaging outside the town. She marched out of the gate, staying clear out of the way of the carriages and the antelope/horse things pulling them. She passed a middle-aged human whose face was stony with sorrow. He had a screaming young Poukha Svartalfar girl slung over one shoulder. She wailed a single name over and over again even as she beat her fists ineffectually against the man¡¯s back. Kat laid eyes on a scene of carnage. The caravan guards had already taken serious casualties. The melee fighters were gathered together, their heads swiveling ineffectually as the Griffon flew overhead, far out of reach of their steel. Kat could almost taste their frustration from where she was. The mages had been devastated, judging from the bloodied robes lying scattered everywhere. The Player corpses had long since faded, but the NPC mages were still present. She could see a Poukha fighter with horrendous injuries on his legs lying senseless on the ground. Next to him, a catgirl was kneeling with her head bowed and her staff in her hands. The crystal was glowing brightly, casting a healing light that slowly mended the canine¡¯s wounds. There was a name floating above them, but she was too far to read it, nor was she near enough to figure out which one the name belonged to. Arrows filled the air, fired from the walls and the caravan archers below. The Griffon¡¯s wingbeats were too strong ¨C the gusts blew the projectiles away before they could even hit. Kat unslung the Decanus¡¯s Horn from her belt. She raised it to her lips and blew. A long and defiant note soared above the battlefield. -------------------- ¡°Isaac¡­You idiot.¡± Those words woke him from his fitful slumber. Isaac¡¯s eyelids felt crusted over as he opened them. Riselda¡¯s face greeted him. She was kneeling next to him, her staff planted in the ground as she channeled a [Resurgence Circle]. It was a risky spell to use. It required the caster to remain completely immobile. She was crying, he realized. He had never seen her cry before, and it made her look utterly miserable. Her tears just kept flowing and dripping on the floor. ¡°Stop doing this to yourself, you fool!¡± She muttered hoarsely. ¡°It¡¯s too painful to watch¡­at least save yourself in the process!¡± ¡°¡­I won¡¯t die. Riselda.¡± He told her, feeling the spell soothe the agony in his legs. ¡°I¡¯m from the Stars, remember? But¡­you¡¯re different. If you die, you won¡¯t come back¡­that will be too painful to watch¡­for me.¡± ¡°That does not make it right at all!¡± She shouted back, her voice quavering. ¡°I¡¯d make you swear an oath to never do it again¡­but you and I know it would be impossible to keep.¡± She took a deep, steadying breath. ¡°This world isn¡¯t kind enough to allow it.¡± She smiled bitterly. ¡°At the very least¡­promise to keep self-sacrifice as the last resort. Please.¡± Isaac smiled back. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll do my best.¡± Riselda nodded solemnly. ¡°I¡¯ll have to settle for that, then.¡± She stood up, her spell cutting off. The Griffon¡¯s shriek briefly overpowered all sound on the battlefield. They both looked up as the Elite Monster zoomed by overhead. A strident shout answered the monster¡¯s cry. A group of new soldiers had appeared on the battlefield. Their armor and weapons - loricae, scutum shields, crested helmets and throwing spears - were so different they stood out. Standing in their midst, one arm holding a golden standard capped by twin wolves howling to the sky, was a young girl with her hair styled in twin ponytails on either side of her head. Despite her youthful appearance, she stood proudly with undeniable authority and a calm gaze that tracked the Griffon without hurry. Isaac still felt twinges of pain in his legs, but he stood up as well. Dried blood cracked and fell off as he gripped the [Healing Rune Charm] strapped to his belt. He felt the final vestiges of pain fade. ¡°Legionnaires! Pila at ready!¡± A loud voice. A voice full of command that emanated from the young standard-bearer. ¡°That voice¡­¡± Isaac thought. ¡°Why does it sound familiar?¡± The Romulii Legionnaires moved as one. Like a smoothly oiled machine, they reached into holsters and withdrew throwing spears, one each to a man. They cocked their arms, ready to throw. With one voice, they shouted. ¡°AHUU--!¡± The Griffon soared and dove. It was lazily treating the entire battle as sport. The bulk of the mages were dead. The fighters could merely react to its overwhelming air superiority. Truly, an [Arrogant Lord] indeed. But the 10-men squad consisted of Romulii Wolfbloods ¨C humans descended from their twin Wolf Gods Junonus and Tiber. That was why Katherine Walker showed no hesitation when she shouted ¡°Loose!¡± Arms powered by demi-god strength uncurled, lofting pila at blurring speed just as the Griffon was coming out of a dive. With its wings on the downstroke, the gusts of air protecting it were weak. These missiles were not like the small, light arrows that had pelted it before. The Griffon screamed in true pain as the missiles pierced right through its iron-hard plumage. In an instant, both its defenses and its arrogant pride were damaged! Predictably, its response was to wheel and dive right at the Legionnaires, talons outstretched. ¡°[Formation: Testudo]!¡± With that order, the soldiers stepped into formation in an instant, their shields up and braced in a tough shell. Given its earlier successes, it was no wonder the Griffon chose to continue its divebomb. This only made the resulting ¡°SQWUARK?!¡± funnier when the monster bounced off the interlocked shields, the Legionnaires beneath them sharing the impact and shrugging it off with the power of teamwork. The battlefield erupted with mocking laughter. Seeing their tormentor look like an utter fool was a huge boost to morale. Coming out of its uncontrolled aerial tumble, the Griffon¡¯s confusion and frustration was almost palpable. It groggily righted itself and quickly flapped higher to regain its bearings. Isaac grinned. Finally...they touched it. They could hurt it! Now it was time for him to do his part in this battle as well. He raised his sheathed sword. His face returned to focused calm, his innocent eyes now narrowed. ¡°Weave a Cloak of Seamless Thread ¨C [Windwalker]!¡± The Air-aligned magic spell: [Windwalker]. It raises the speed of the caster and his allies, both to move and to attack. Like all Air element spells, it had a long duration and synergized with other spells very well. However, since it still required casters to dodge attacks it was not as popular as other Defensive spells like [Arctic Bulwark] and [Enflamed Shroud]. It was easier to cast standing behind a shield rather than moving about after all. The sheath of the sword lit up in a complex runic circuit, as did the blade in it. The pommel of Isaac¡¯s saber was a hollow oval. An orb of pale-green light formed in the center before flashing. A pair of indistinct anklets, sprouting long wings made of gossamer clouds formed around his boots for a brief moment before fading until it was almost invisible. While Isaac was doing this, Riselda was not being idle. With a loud rip, she tore her long, cumbersome skirt and tied it up so it would not trip her up again. Raising her staff, her face hardened into a fierce snarl and her eyes glowing bright green from the leashed magic coursing through her whole being, she spoke with fury. ¡°If my [Ice] won¡¯t reach you, then suffer my [Lightning]!¡± ¡°Pure Lance! Bright Lance! Five-pointed Brionac! Aim once and strike True, Silver Standard, raised to Defy! ¨C [Thunderous Score]! Three Verses¡¯ worth of power. The Sphere-variant of Lightning Magic. A [Fireball], in comparison, is a straightforward spell that flies, hits and explodes with force and reach determined by its Verse Rank. [Thunderous Score] is a different beast. Bluish-white mana burst forth from Riselda¡¯s staff, which shook from the violent pulses. In the sky, guided by the spell, the mana swiftly coalesced and formed into five great spheres of bright energy. Lightning crackled ceaselessly all over these menacing spheres. The Griffon instantly got a taste of their power when it flew too close to one of them. With a flash of light, the Tyrant screeched in surprised pain as a bolt of lightning scorched it. Blackened feathers drifted to the ground as it was forced to flap vigorously to keep aloft. The [Lord of the Skies] swept its gaze around and saw an impudent mage, its tiny staff upraised in defiance of its betters. The Griffon was stunned. Even after its peers had been culled¡­it still dared to rise above its station?! THIS! IS! AN! OUTRAGE! Far below it, Riselda was far from done. She saw the Griffon begin to dive. Now she saw its chest begin to billow out. She knew without a doubt that it was going to Scream again. To sing that detestable [Blood Mist Dirge]. She had originally planned to use the Chant, but this forced her hand. Silent Cast it is, then. She aimed her simple staff at the Griffon and her gaze met the monster¡¯s in mutual hatred. She did not say the name, but Isaac recognized the spell. The Two Verse [Lightning Bolt]. The Griffon avoided the first bolt, rolling to the side with the unnatural agility it possessed. However, no amount of agility could save it from Riselda¡¯s second bolt. For a single blinding instant, Isaac saw thin trails of lightning spray out from the Griffon and touch the floating spheres of the [Thunderous Score]. The spheres shifted, and then accelerated- KRABOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOOM The Griffon was hammered repeatedly by the spheres, which exploded into bursts of searing lightning on impact. Its pained screech was lost in the stuttering booms of exploding magic. [SYNERGIC BLAST: HALLS OF THUNDER] As the [Synergic Blast] faded away, the Griffon was left flapping drunkenly in the air. It lost height, drifting closer to the ground. Its entire form was trailing smoke and its head lolled in a daze. No doubt, the monster¡¯s head was ringing from the damage it had just taken. Riselda dug her staff into the dirt and sagged against it, her energy spent from the powerful spells she just unleashed. Isaac closed his hanging jaw with a click and sped to her side with a single bound, thanks to [Windwalker]. He laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. She smiled tiredly at him. ¡°Go. Finish it.¡± She rasped. Isaac nodded silently and ran. He chased after the drooping figure of the Griffon. As he watched, yet another volley of pila from the Legionnaires pelted the monster like a swarm of angry hornets. Orbost the Archer set himself low and drew his bow so hard it threatened to snap. His arrow glowed and he released it, firing a [Auger Shot] that bored through a wing in a spray of blood. Further along, he saw Bara-thon in the distance. Nyakka, almost bent double in an all-out sprint, was charging right towards him. ¡°OI! BARA-KUN! GIMME A BOOST!¡± Bara-thon took a single glance at his Pugilist friend and nodded. He took a moment to gauge the Griffon¡¯s path and ran until he was in its path. Dropping his maul, he crouched down and cupped his hands together. When Nyakka¡¯s foot met his cupped hands, Bara-thon heaved her into the air with a bellowing roar. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. A blur of half-naked catgirl was all the warning the Griffon would get before Nyakka grabbed onto singed feathers, swung herself onto the back of its neck and began unloading punch after punch into the back of its head. ¡°SHITEIKIMASU! KUSO YAKITORI----!!¡± (You fucking roast chicken! Fall!) She screamed for the whole place to hear as she rode the Griffon into the ground. Narghel¡¯s voice rose in a mad cackle somewhere nearby. ¡°Hahaha! She¡¯s really pissed! She¡¯s reverting back to Japanese!¡± Sliding to a halt, he lowered himself into the stance of [Argent Glint]. Directly ahead of him was the dust cloud that arose from the Griffon plowing into the grassy field. Nyakka was nowhere to be seen. Even now, the blowing wind swept the air clear, revealing the monster as it shook its head to clear the last of the dizziness from its mind. Isaac did not give it a chance to react to him. His foot pushed down. A circle of dust and wind hurled him forward. [Heat Edge] + [Drawing Slice] *Hsssss-schnnnk!* A line of flames drew itself in his passage. The Griffon cried out in fury. Isaac knew it was not enough. He flipped over, his knees bent. His boot pressed flat on thin air before he launched again, an expanding ring of Wind mana blooming from his footstep. His saber, still glowing with the orange-yellow heat of a furnace, carved into feathers and flesh. *Shnnnk!* He slid on his feet and leapt when he began to slow down. His saber, held in a two-handed grip, slashed out. *Shnnnk!* Another line of flame. [Windwalker] will not last forever. The Griffon must burn! *Shnnnk!* Faster! [Mirrored Moon]! *Shnnnk!* *Shnnnk!**click* Faster! *Hsss-Shnnnk!* *Shnnnk!* *Shnnnk!* *Click* Faster! From outside in, the combatants saw a lone Poukha swordsman take on an Elite Monster and thrive. He started out fast, but he only got faster and faster. His booted feet treated thin air like solid ground, and his flashing sword left lines of burning light as he passed. Faster and faster. His was a blur. Isaac wove a cage of fiery light. Under this relentless onslaught, the Griffon¡¯s damaged plumage began to burn in earnest. At last, he felt the [Windwalker] anklets begin to gutter and slid to a stop. Behind him, the Griffon thrashed, frantically trying to put out the bonfire that was its once-proud feathers. Isaac panted harshly, feeling the full price his blitz had demanded from his virtual body. He sheathed his saber once more and turned around to keep an eye on his enemy. Nils had drilled into his head the need to never assume a battle to be over until you can confirm your enemy¡¯s death. Sure enough, the Griffon struggled to its feet and shrieked a war-cry, despite the fact that it was now thoroughly covered in blackened soot. Isaac¡¯s shoulders slumped briefly before he steeled himself for the fight ahead. Then, he was abruptly shoved off his feet by an unseen person. ¡°Thanks for all the hard work, noob!¡± a Player in plate armor sneered as he faded back into view. His name read ¡®H3adBash¡¯ and he wielded a greatsword. ¡°You can¡¯t have this mob. We aggroed it first!¡± ¡°Hey! What the fuck, man!¡± Bara-thon¡¯s voice floated over. ¡°You can¡¯t just- Oof!¡± Isaac turned his head to see another Player in a Conan knock-off getup shove his friend backwards. Narghel stalked over, his mouth set in a downward curve. ¡°Feh. You guys¡­you were the ones who led this Elite over to us!¡± Isaac¡¯s gaze snapped back to H3adBash. He felt rage boiling in his veins. ¡°You¡­You caused all this?¡± He asked, indignation in his voice. ¡°People are dead because of you!¡± ¡°What are you so mad for? They¡¯re just NPCs.¡± H3adBash retorted callously. ¡°Fuck off and take your tryhard RPing with you, scrub. I ain¡¯t got time for fucking casuals.¡± With that said, he took off, charging towards the Griffon with his weapon raised. Isaac got to his feet and started to run after him, but a crossbow bolt buried itself at his feet. ¡°No kill-stealing, asshat!¡± One of H3adBash¡¯s four companions shouted. He had a crossbow raised and pointed at him. The other combatants on Isaac¡¯s side were scattered all over the battlefield at this point. The Legionnaires were jogging as fast as they could in their direction, while the various caravan guards were rushing to their location from everywhere. Bara-thon glared darkly at the four Players. ¡°¡­Screw this. Screw the PK flag. I¡¯m going to pound their asses into virtual dust!¡± However, the Griffon seemed to enjoy pre-empting Bara-thon, because it reared onto its hind legs and shrieked loudly. Its eyes flashed a baleful red, giving Isaac an instant¡¯s flashback. ¡°Rage mode!¡± he blurted out. H3adBash was within reach of its talons by the time he realized his predicament. He parried and blocked desperately with his two-handed sword, only able to make weak attacks now and then. ¡°HEY! I NEED HELP!¡± He screamed at his companions. His team members rushed to assist him. All that accomplished was to put them within range of a flurry of frenzied claw swipes that battered through their defenses and ripped them to shreds. Four voices screamed before they were silenced and their avatars dispersed into fading light. ¡°[Charge]!¡± The Legionnaire commander¡¯s voice rang out. The Romulii heavy troops and everyone else obeyed the order, slamming into the Griffon with a howling roar. Hemmed in on all sides by shields and suffering a rain of blows, the Griffon could not gather the momentum to start its mad slashing again. The surviving mages gleefully sent Fire spells arcing onto it as payback for its earlier actions. Even then, the monster was still deadly. Each slash of its talons sent at least one warrior tumbling through the air. Some landed and struggled to their feet. Others flopped to the ground and remained deathly still, or vanished into motes of light. A Legionnaire had his tower shield cracked clean in two had had to be dragged out of the melee. The twin-tailed girl with the wolf standard leapt fearlessly into the gap he left in the line, her gladius flickering in and out. A blade popped out from the top of the standard as she began to wield it as a spear in her other hand. Bara-thon charged into the fray, his maul held up high. Narghel, who was standing next to Isaac, slammed the butt of his staff into the ground. Three sharp spires of rock burst from the earth, spun and flew at the Griffon. Nyakka reappeared, soaring above the gathered fighters and unloaded a flying kick to the Griffon¡¯s face. Isaac began to recast his buffs. First was a Silent-cast [Windwalker]. Before his Charge bar could descend past its second node, Isaac put his ignited mana to good use. ¡°A Wrathful Voice, thus Engraved, Ashen Dust is my Wake ¨C [Heat Edge]!¡± This time, it was not only his saber that glowed with the light of a heated forge but every weapon on the field. There was a hearty roar of appreciation as the fighters renewed their assault with fresh vigor. Bursts of flame erupted on the Griffon¡¯s plumage once more. At this moment, Bara-thon charged right through the crowd, his maul cocked back. ¡°[SHELLBREAKER]--!¡± He roared. The maul¡¯s head fell like a blazing meteor from the skies, impacting the Griffon¡¯s neck with a crack so loud it echoed off the town¡¯s walls. Burnt feathers went flying everywhere. A patch of bare flesh was exposed to the world. ==[VITAL BREAK]== The appearance of that message electrified every Player on the field. ¡°KILL IT! KILL IT NOW!¡± Someone yelled. But it was not that easy. The Griffon knew it was on truly on the verge of dying. Its pride had been broken and scattered to the winds. Now it threw away the last vestiges of its dignity and fully unleashed the primal savagery that always lurked skin-deep. It exploded into a screeching whirlwind of violence that hurled the closest warriors away. Isaac leaned forward and pushed off. He sprinted, gathering speed. He felt his focus narrow until the only thing left in his vision was the Griffon. Straining his mind, he sought the great hole in his enemy¡¯s armor. At the critical moment, his eyes met the Griffon¡¯s. Isaac saw the monster¡¯s true courage, now free of the crust of arrogance that had built up over the course of its life. He saw the stubborn will to never submit, a feeling he knew intimately. In that instant, Isaac was filled with respect for the Tyrant. He would make its death clean. ¡°HRAAAAAAAAH---!¡± [Drawing Slice]! A straight line hung in the air, drawn with burning heat. The Griffon¡¯s head tumbled slowly to the earth. Isaac began to fall as his gravity took hold. His saber slid slowly back into its sheath. *Click* --------------------- In the aftermath of the battle, many things were happening. Some of the combatants had collapsed where they stood, doing nothing but pant in exhaustion. Many of these were caravan guards, who had been engaged in battle longer than anyone else. Others were picking through the battlefield, crying out the names of those missing or dead. Many of these were NPCs. Tears of sorrow and joy were being shed at the same time. A youthful Poukha girl was sobbing in heartrending fit together with a plump human woman with grey streaks in her hair. They were kneeled next to a wrecked cart. In contrast, an older man was hugging a rather disoriented youth tight to his chest. The young man was clad in damaged chainmail and a dented helmet. Katherine Walker was getting quite a bit of experience in coordinating disaster relief efforts. ¡°Cassius, take Octavian and Argosax with you and sweep further up the road for survivors. Do you have you enough bandages and Regen potions?¡± Cassius nodded in confirmation. ¡°Yes, Decanus. The town healers just dropped off a fresh batch. I¡¯ve taken the liberty to grab some of it earlier.¡± ¡°Okay. You have your orders. Go.¡± ¡°Ave, Decanus!¡± He slammed his fist into his chestplate in salute and marched away to do his duty. Earlier, she sent Magnus, her second-in-command, to find out why the Arv?nnr town guard was absent from the battle. It turned out that the soldiers had been mobilized by the region¡¯s Thane to combat an Unborn incursion at another village further along the border. It was simply rotten timing by four particular Players when they thought they could lure an Elite mob to the town. They had planned to let the guards wear it down and take the ¡®final kill¡¯ by themselves. Kat was looking forward to what will happen once they respawn and attempt to enter Arv?nnr. They would get quite a rude shock, if this continent¡¯s laws were anything like Romul¡¯s. She¡¯d probably record the scene¡­it should be good for a quick laugh or two later. Letting out an inaudible sigh, Kat turned her attention back to the corpse of the Griffon. Once the damages were tallied and the injured tended to, the time would come to salvage the corpse of the monster. The townspeople would most likely haul the carcass into the walls, butcher it and apply magical restoration to salvage useful materials out of it. She herself had seen the process happen before. ¡°Hey! Over here!¡± A familiar voice shouted. Kat turned her head and smiled mischievously. ¡°Oh, hello, Mr. Brotastic. How was it, being dead?¡± She asked casually. GM Brotastic jogged up to her with a sheepish laugh. ¡°Ahaha¡­well, my GM powers don¡¯t kick in unless something¡¯s wrong, you know¡­It¡¯s to prevent abuse of power.¡± He had been killed by the Griffon when he dodged the wrong way and received a swift talon to the face. It was a pretty embarrassing way to die. He was allowed to bypass the revival lockdown, however. Kat rolled her eyes in mock derision before turning her gaze back on the dead Griffon. The Poukha swordsman with the intricate tattoo-like patterns on his fur was still standing there, looking pensive. A catgirl mage with dark red hair had joined him. ¡°Holyshitthat¡¯shim¡± Kat heard Brotastic gasp. She gave him a raised eyebrow. ¡°Say what?¡± ¡°I said that¡¯s HIM!¡± the GM exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the swordsman she was looking for. Kat¡¯s brain stuttered to a halt. She whipped her head around and finally noticed his name. Her first thought was ¡°I must be blind and stupid.¡± The following ones were not so coherent. The Legionnaires nearby instantly stopped whatever they were doing when they saw their unflappable Lady of War sprint like a woman possessed, tackling a Poukha swordsman so hard they went down in a tangle of limbs. Why would she do that? Perhaps the Poukha youth was a criminal or something? There was no time to think, so the Legionnaires defaulted to their training. ¡°ASSIST THE DECANUS, YOU IDIOTS!¡± For Katherine Walker, her planned reunion with her brother was not as touching as she liked, as her loyal soldiers dogpiled the both of them in order to apprehend the ¡®criminal¡¯. It was the first time she seriously began to consider that all her plans outside of battle were jinxed. ----------------- Arc 1 Interlude - Arv?nnr 1 Arv?nnr Interlude 1 Arv?nnr, The Auroch Inn As reunions went, the one Isaac had with his sister had been awkward in the extreme and only got worse from there. First, he got tackled in a flying hug by a stranger from behind. Next, they got dogpiled by burly men and women wearing heavy metal armor that almost suffocated the lot of them. Riselda reacted about as well as you expected to the sudden attack and nearly electrocuted the ¡®attackers¡¯. Even after Kat convinced the Legionnaires that no, she was not in fact trying to capture Isaac, Riselda was still giving her narrow-eyed looks of suspicion. Even now, after the Legionnaires teleported back home and they rented themselves rooms in the same inn, the confused atmosphere refused to disperse. Nobody quite knew what to feel about one another, though Kat had only shown cheerfulness and joy at being reunited with Isaac. He himself could only feel a messy tangle of emotions in his chest. The shame at not sharing his sister¡¯s joy only added to it. Trying to unravel it was taking him an entire day. There was¡­shame in there. The most recent addition. Confusion, which was to be expected. Anger, directed at himself. Joy, which was quite a bit of relief. Oh, the relief replaced much of the shame. A lot of sorrow, too, but that was a long term resident, sharing a room with homesickness¡­ ¡°Haaaaah¡­¡± Isaac let out a long sigh, sitting on the bed in the inn¡¯s room. The difference of 6 years never hit so hard as when he stared into his own sister¡¯s face and failed to recognize her immediately. He did not even return her warmth, when she offered it. For a split second, he saw a deep disappointment flash across her face. He felt like an awful brother. ¡­Isaac realized that he was just making himself miserable. This was not the time to be wallowing in self-pity. The right action was to find Kat and apologize. Standing up from his bed, Isaac shook off his hesitation. It seemed a little easier to do so, when it would have felt like an insurmountable obstacle 2 months ago. It was such a short time ago, but it felt like so much more time had passed. He was wearing a simple set of linen clothes, a green tunic, black trousers and a pair of worn, comfortable boots. Poor Riselda, had suffered having her belongings ripped to shreds when the Griffon passed over them while singing the [Blood Mist Dirge]. He had kept his stuff in his [Inventory Screen], but his companion had no such luxury. Next time, he would offer to store her belongings too, but he knew she may be reluctant to take him up on the offer - due to obvious reasons. When Isaac stepped out into the hallway from his room, the first person he saw was Riselda herself. ¡°Ah!¡± she exclaimed. She was, of course, still garbed in her travel clothes, still damaged and stained from the battle. The greatest damage on her clothing was the great tear she had ripped with her own hands after it had treacherously tangled her feet when she needed speed the most. It also exposed a great deal of skin on her leg. Isaac snapped his lingering gaze upwards, but the way Riselda¡¯s ginger tail curled shyly over the gap and the blush on her face told Isaac that she definitely noticed that he had been staring. ¡°Um¡­¡± Isaac¡¯s said, lowering his head in shame. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being rude. Excuse me, I need go and have a talk with Kat.¡± He turned away from Riselda. ¡°You¡¯re going the wrong way. She¡¯s down in the dining hall, not her room.¡± Her voice floated after him. He stopped. ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡± He turned around and squeezed past her, but tug on his sleeve stopped him. ¡°Y-Yes? What is it?¡± He asked. ¡°Isaac, tell me honestly ¨C is this Katherine person truly your sister?¡± Riselda asked seriously. Isaac blinked before looking her unwaveringly in the eyes. ¡°Yes, she is.¡± Isaac said with conviction. Riselda¡¯s gaze locked him there for a few heartbeats before she finally nodded. ¡°I see. Then I shall believe in your words. Let¡¯s head down for dinner, then.¡± She took a few steps before realizing that Isaac was not with her. ¡°Isaac?¡± ¡°¡­Riselda, are you afraid that Kat is trying to deceive me?¡± He asked seriously. ¡°I¡­¡± she began, then shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. If she really were trying to pass herself off as your sister, she would have chosen a more believable story.¡± Riselda explained. ¡°When blood of other races mix, it is the roll of a dice that determines what heritage the infant shall inherit. However both you and her have confirmed that both your parents are human. Even with all the strange rumors about Star-people, that story is too obviously outlandish to be an attempt at a scam.¡± The expression on her face was troubled. ¡°I have resolved myself to believe in your judgement, but I cannot help but worry¡­¡± Isaac let the low burn of his anger cool. ¡°Thank you for worrying about me, Riselda.¡± He told her, ¡°I never did consider how this must all look from the outside. Really, I¡¯m happy.¡± Isaac paused, surprised that yes, his tangle of emotions had finally resolved itself into happiness. ¡°I¡¯m happy that they didn¡¯t forget me. Even if Mom isn¡¯t here¡­at least they have looked as hard as they could. .¡± He finished, closing his eyes and smiling warmly. ¡°And now, they found me.¡± Riselda felt the wall of caution lower just a little at the sight. She gave him a small smile. ¡°Let¡¯s go then. It¡¯s time to have a good talk with your sister.¡± With that said, they went down to dinner. --------------- Kat was feeling pretty lousy about herself. After botching her reunion with her own brother in such a disastrous way, it was no surprise that Isaac would react in such a cold manner. She did not blame her soldiers. This was all on her. If she had not reacted so rashly¡­ To all outward appearances, she still appeared to be that valorous, graceful leader on the battlefield. Whether or not if it was her [Charisma] attribute at work, she exuded an irresistible presence even within the modest walls of the inn. She smiled easily, laughed along with jokes and moved with elegance. She was a Lady of War at rest, mingling with the people and her fellow soldiers, sharing their ills and joys. On the inside - a tired young girl who wanted to just slump onto the table and not do anything for the next few in-game hours or so. On the outside ¨C The mask of the Lady she had put on so often she was having difficulty taking it off. ...If she stopped acting like everything was fine, she really might just break down and cry. She did not want anybody to see that. She was not that silly little girl who could not control herself anymore. That was what caused this entire situation in the first place! Kat held onto her self-control with an iron grip. It hurt, but she reminded herself that she had prepared herself for this outcome. ¡°Kat?¡± Katherine Walker did not jump at this very moment. She would later deny everything and insisted that even though she was surprised, she absolutely did not try to jump out of her skin. ¡°I-Isaac?! Oh, and um¡­Ms. Riselda, right? Did you come down for dinner?¡± She asked, her voice wavering just a bit at the beginning. The two of them were standing at her table, across from her. It was strange, hearing her brother¡¯s voice coming from a stranger¡¯s mouth. He was not even the same race anymore. Even so, some of his mannerisms were still familiar. She remembered that look of concern with bittersweet fondness. And then, there was Isaac¡¯s companion. Katherine still had no idea what to make of the catgirl with the dark red hair and refined manners. She was exotically pretty, had that particular ¡®neko¡¯ appeal that otaku types would rave on about and had an intelligent look in her green eyes. Their first meeting did not go well at all and her attitude had been rather cold ever since. Kat did note that she was rather familiar with her brother¡­maybe even a little warmer than just friends. ¡°Before that, I need to apologize, Kat.¡± Isaac admitted, chagrin written all over his face. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the way I treated you before. It may not feel like 6 years to me, but that would be exactly the case for you. Is¡­Is there any way I can make it up to you?¡± Kat was struck dumb for a second. ¡°Huh? What, no! It wasn¡¯t your fault at all!¡± She stood up from her seat. ¡°You don¡¯t need to apologize at all! Look, I¡­¡± She wrung her hands, then realized whatever she wanted to say was not important. She had been so busy thinking about how she screwed up that she failed to consider a simple solution. She opened her arms wide. ¡°Why are we making such a big deal out of this?¡± She asked to both her brother and herself. ¡°It¡¯s been 6 long years. There¡¯s only one thing we should do, right?¡± Isaac stared, wide-eyed. Then his face softened. Brother and sister embraced at last. -------------------- Riselda could have chosen to be a disruptive presence during the dinner, but she chose not to. Instead, she quietly kept an eye on both Isaac and this Katherine Walker woman. Woman, or girl? That was part of what made her so cautious before. She had difficulty reading this Walker¡¯s motives. It was as if she was acting out a role she had picked for herself. At least, that was the impression she got of her. It made her hackles rise and gave her this nagging fear that Isaac would be taken advantage of. It was an entirely plausible outcome, so she remained on guard. That this girl was the cause of Isaac getting buried underneath a pile of soldiers in heavy, heavy armor was another matter entirely. She watched them embrace and had to quash a sudden burst of inexplicable irritation out of nowhere. It was so sudden and distracting that she lost focus for a good few moments. When she came back to herself, she noticed Katherine quickly wipe a tear from her eye. Also, her hands, once white-knuckled, had relaxed greatly. It occurred to her that Ms. Katherine¡¯s mask was not so perfect, after all. Riselda felt some tension in herself relax in response. At the same time, she could not help but feel¡­something at how familiar Kat was acting with Isaac. It was irksome in some undefinable way. That was the moment that she thought back on the conversation and noticed something that caught her full attention. ¡°Pardon me¡­¡± She spoke up. Isaac and Katherine turned their attention from their food to her. ¡°¡­I admit to some confusion about what you said before, Ms. Katherine. You said that you haven¡¯t seen each other for 6 years, correct? What happened before you fell into this world from the Stars?¡± Riselda asked. Katherine and Isaac exchanged looks. The young man rubbed his head sheepishly. ¡°Oh, um¡­The 6 years? Well, I might have been¡­in a coma. Did¡­I ever tell you that, Riselda?¡± ¡°You what.¡± Riselda¡¯s voice was flat. He sank down in his seat. ¡°Um¡­It must have slipped my mind. Oops?¡± Riselda put a hand to her temples and sighed. ¡°Isaac¡­No, nevermind. You¡¯ve recovered from that now, right? But still, we¡¯ll have to sit down and discuss this later. I¡¯m no Royal Surgeon, but we have to account for any lingering side-effects.¡± Riselda suddenly froze. ¡°Ah. I-It just occurred to me, but I may have to ask something quite personal, Ms. Katherine.¡± She asked, her voice quavering. ¡°Just how old are you now?¡± The blank expression on Katherine¡¯s face hid her sole thought at this moment; ¡®Oh shit, she¡¯s figured it out!¡¯ She was very seriously considering lying about it. However, she knew that the consequences would be even worse when the truth came out, so she silently apologized to her brother. ¡°Uh¡­I¡¯m 15 this year.¡± Riselda nodded shakily. ¡°Are you the younger or older sister?¡± ¡°I¡¯m the youngest in the family.¡± That answer allayed her fears, but only just a little. ¡°Isaac, h-how o-o-o-old are you t-this year?¡± She stuttered. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°I¡¯m nineteen, why?¡± He replied guilelessly. The nuances of the situation appear to have flown right over his head. Katherine sank her face into her palms. Riselda put the math together. 19 ¨C 6 = 13. If he had been in a coma for those six years, then he was, mentally, 13 years old. Thirteen. Thirteen. THIRTEEN?! THIRTEEN! ThirteenThirteenThirteenThirtee- If this scene was in an anime, the poor catgirl would have turned to stone and slowly crumbled to dust in a sudden wind¡­ ¡°Shiiiiiit, we lost her¡­¡± Katherine muttered despondently as Riselda¡¯s consciousness went off to La-La land. ------------------ After the dinner, Riselda regained enough of her wits to confront Katherine in her room. ¡°Miss Walker, this is a grave matter!¡± Riselda blurted out ¡°How am I supposed to treat this? How am I supposed to face Isaac now? What am I supposed to do?¡± ¡°Riselda, calm down.¡± Katherine told her in a level voice. ¡°I¡¯m trying, but I cannot! Thirteen! Gods¡¯ Blood!¡± Riselda blabbered on. ¡°He doesn¡¯t act thirteen at all! He¡¯s a little na?ve, but you wouldn¡¯t tell if you¡¯ve spent more than two weeks with him! He¡¯s even more mature than most men eighteen years in Thistle! He¡¯s killed before! How am I supposed to¡­Waaa-!¡± Katherine clapped both palms on Riselda¡¯s cheeks. ¡°Hey! Focus! Calm. Down. Breathe.¡± Riselda, after her uncharacteristic fit of hysteria, had tears in the corners of her eyes. With her hair coming out of her short braid and her disheveled clothing, her previous elegance was nowhere to be seen. She nodded weakly and took several deep breaths. Katherine felt a lick of dark humor unfold in her chest. ¡®I¡¯m the youngest in the room and yet I¡¯m the one who¡¯s most calm. Heh, something really is wrong with me, huh?¡¯ ¡°Okay, let¡¯s start at the beginning. You¡¯ve been with Isaac pretty much from the start, if what you¡¯re saying is right. So tell me about him.¡± Katherine said firmly. Riselda hesitated. ¡°H-Have you talked with Isaac about this yet?¡± She asked, a hint of steel appearing in her tone. Katherine found herself approving that little show. Defending her brother despite the earlier earth-shattering revelation? It spoke well of her. ¡°No, not yet. But since you asked that question, I¡¯m, sure you won¡¯t talk about it unless I¡¯ve discussed it with him first. So, instead¡­what¡¯s your opinion of him?¡± Riselda stared at Katherine for a long moment, before nodding. ¡°As I¡¯ve said before ¨C He¡¯s na?ve.¡± Isaac stood up, declaring that he won¡¯t lie down and be stepped on. ¡°He may have been a bit passive, but that¡¯s changed. He¡¯s determined not to be.¡± Every day, he would train. Getting up at dawn, going to bed long past dusk¡­Yet he never complained. ¡°He¡¯s hardworking and driven.¡± Sometimes, Riselda would see Isaac observing the other Healers in the Hospice. They were a close-knit bunch. Sometimes, she though he could see faint longing in his gaze. ¡°He¡¯s withdrawn and a little lonely. I think he has difficulty making friends.¡± A bunch of trainees hauled Isaac back to the Hospice. All of them were giving him an earful about being a self-sacrifical idiot. Isaac could only nod weakly in the face of such a spirited rant. Riselda planned a scolding of her own. ¡°He¡¯s reckless, sometimes. Especially when someone he¡¯s close to is endangered.¡± Farah tried having him help out with the Hospice once. Halfway through the day, he somehow got himself buried in boxes of herbs because he got distracted. He got a lengthy lecture for that one. ¡°He¡¯s a bit of a birdbrain when he hasn¡¯t a reason to focus.¡± Riselda giggled. Katherine had propped up her chin in her hands, her bare legs swinging idly at the head of the bed. Her smile was smug. ¡°Hmmm~ That¡¯s quite a lot of information for a few months. You¡¯re quite attentive, aren¡¯t you?¡± Under the surface, she was pleased. ¡®Success. I got her to focus on what she likes about Isaac. At the very least, they can remain friends.¡¯ Riselda¡¯s mouth snapped shut and red creeped up from her collar to her hairline. ¡°Y-You asked for my opinion, didn¡¯t you?!¡± She retorted. Katherine nodded. ¡°Yeah, I did.¡± The smile faded from her face. ¡°Wow. I guess a lot has happened, huh.¡± She murmured, rolling over until she was lying on her back. ¡°I¡¯m happy that he¡¯s changed. You¡¯re right that he used to be really passive. Quiet, withdrawn¡­Mom suspected he was bullied at school, on top of¡­¡± She clenched her jaw, her upside-down face going dark for just a second. Then, the scowl was gone, like a cloud on the wind. ¡°It seems like he¡¯s grown up a lot, and in a good way.¡± Katherine smiled sadly. ¡°Isaac¡¯s always been more mature than his age suggests. He¡¯ll catch up to his real age quickly, I think.¡± Riselda, her feelings no longer churning, felt a great deal of sympathy for this girl. ¡°Six years is a long time. I can barely imagine how painful it must be.¡± She said. Katherine winced as she thought of Isaac¡¯s real body. That gaunt skeleton with skin stretched tight over sharp angles. Watching him slowly waste away, or simply not seeing him at all ¨C it was hard to say which was the more agonizing. ¡°¡­It was, but that¡¯s no longer important. He¡¯s here. He¡¯s relatively safe and he can take care of himself now. If he gets over his head, well, at least there¡¯s people looking after him.¡± Katherine concluded solemnly. ¡°Once tomorrow rolls around, Mom will be here. We can finally have a proper reunion.¡± Her smile froze for a second. ¡°Uh¡­don¡¯t mention the stuff about Isaac killing in front of Mom, okay? She may not take it so well if she isn¡¯t eased into it.¡± Riselda nodded. ¡°I shall keep it in mind. In any case, I think I should go to bed. It¡¯s been an exhausting day. We need to go collect our spoils from the Thane¡¯s court early in the morning and then I shall have to go visit the shops to replace what I¡¯ve lost¡­¡± ¡°Waitaminute.¡± Katherine blurted out, she scrambled off the bed and clamped her hands on Riselda¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear that wrong, right? Did you say¡­that you¡¯re going shopping?¡± Riselda felt her fur begin standing on end. There was a dangerous feeling in the air! Katherine began to chuckle, deep in her throat, there was a strange glint in her eye and a mysterious pressure was exuding off her! ¡°Ohoho~ Let¡¯s go shopping tomorrow, Ri-ri~¡± Something dark has been unleashed¡­! --------------- After escaping from Katherine¡¯s clutches, Riselda beat a swift retreat back to her room. Closing the door, Riselda let herself sag against it and let out a long, weary breath. She had been truthful when she said that today had been a tiring day for her. She made her way over to the bed and looked it over carefully. Sure enough, there were insects living in it. A quick look at the pest-repellant enchantments engraved into the bedposts revealed that they had been worn into uselessness. Shaking her head, Riselda picked up her staff from where it had been leaning against the sidestand and mentally constructed the cantrip she had picked up from Sage Ulrym, back in Thistle. Static built up in the general area of the bed. With a series of sharp snapping crackles, the bed was rendered free of all bedbugs, fleas and assorted pests. A mage is never inconvenienced for long. Once that was done, she set her staff away, and took off her damaged dress, leaving herself in her underclothes. The only surviving set, to be exact. Yet another thing to buy tomorrow. She could not help but wistfully wish for her destroyed nightclothes. She had taken her bath earlier. There really was no reason to put off her sleep anymore. She slipped beneath the sheets, quietly thankful that the textiles of the bed were of cotton, if not very high quality examples of such. She would have scratched herself raw if it was straw she was sleeping on. Blowing out the candle on the sideboard, the room was fully plunged into darkness. She lay down, fully intending to sleep. However, her unruly thoughts began to drift back to the previous events of the day. Especially her reaction down in the inn¡¯s dining hall. Riselda burrowed her head under the covers in shame. ¡®Just why did I lose myself like that?¡¯ She thought. Honestly speaking, it was shocking news indeed. Isaac was becoming a good friend, yet hearing that he might have been mentally a child shook her to the core. She did not think that he was doing it on purpose to deceive anybody. His behavior so far had been genuine. As part of her education, she had been taught to see through manufactured behavior ¨C a necessary skill for the Royal Court. She was not as rusty as her way of living might suggest; commoners were just as likely to lie, cheat and steal as nobles were. To Riselda, there was no distinction because she had waded through the same filth from both sides. Working as a Healer¡¯s apprentice even gave her ample practice in detecting mummery. Although, most of the acts she had been forced to decipher were usually patients doing their level best to avoid even one more dose of medicine and its customary horrific taste. The rest of the cases involved slothful scoundrels trying to shirk work instead. That was why she was sure Isaac was not putting on an act. Even more so, in fact, than when she first came to this conclusion¡­ Riselda¡¯s hand gripped her sheets tightly. This was wrong. These feelings were wrong. She could not afford them to be genuine. If she did, then¡­ ¡­! ¡®No, I can¡¯t feel this way.¡¯ Riselda thought firmly to herself. ¡®If I get too close, I won¡¯t be able to do what needs to be done.¡¯ That was right. She had to be subjective. This was more important than what she wanted. She was no love-stricken, empty-headed heroine from a bard¡¯s fanciful tale. She had sworn an oath to herself. (¡°Happy Birthday, RISELDA----!¡±) Isaac was not HIM. They were very different people. But that ambition? That drive to better himself? It was dangerous. She had to follow him and make sure he did not fall into that same trap. She would try to steer him away from that path of monstrosity. As a survivor of a similar event, it was her responsibility to prevent it from happening again. If she could not save him¡­ Then she would have to excise the tumor. She was already too close. She had let herself fall in too far already. It would hurt terribly if it came to the worst option. She had to stop herself from getting any deeper. She could not afford to hold back if she had to kill Isaac. She took this oath seriously. Nothing else superseded it. She knew she could do it. She was not pure and unstained. She knew what it was like to freeze another living creature alive. She had fried a troll to death with lightning before, unheeding of its screams for mercy. She had to survive back then and it attacked her unprovoked. Her path was clear and logical. She needed the distance to protect herself¡­but the thought of doing this was painful. The thought of ending him¡­ of doing it again and again until he gave up or she died... It hurt. Riselda closed her eyes. She slept fitfully. ------------------ Arc 1 Interlude - Arv?nnr 2 Arv?nnr Interlude 2 Arv?nnr, Central Square The town was subdued. The majority of the lost lives may have been from Svartalfar caravaneers, but that did not mean that nobody in the town cared. Also, it was not like the people of Arv?nnr got out of the battle scot free either. Isaac had walked past the apothecary earlier. The store was closed, but he had seen people through the display window. It was that middle-aged woman crying at the wreck of the carriage behind them, and the little Pouha girl. The doe-eared little girl was the sole survivor of the Griffon¡¯s strike at the carriage. They were both dressed in black mourning clothes and appeared to have just returned from the Funeral service held by the Thane¡¯s Hand. Still, the mood of the town was slowly shifting to something lighter. The civilians had been mourned, but the slain warriors had yet to be celebrated. This was Maergard, and they believed very firmly in Valhalla. Those that perished in the valiant defense of the innocent would surely be accepted by the Valkyr into the warrior¡¯s paradise! Tomorrow was the Victory Feast, where they would toast them and display the symbol of their triumph. Most of the shops were already open after midday, which was a good thing for the adventurers in town. Since Kat had logged off the previous in-game night to deal with RL matters, they went to attend the service and arranged to meet up later. After receiving the allotted rewards (including 10 glorious gold coins per person) for the successful kill of a powerful Griffon, Isaac, Kat and Riselda bumped into Nyakka and her two friends outside the Thane¡¯s Hearth-Hall. Upon hearing that they were going to buy new everythings for Riselda, Nyakka practically invited herself to the shopping expedition while Bara-thon and Narghel seemed to vanish into thin air. Isaac could not shake the feeling that he had been abandoned to a terrible fate. As such, he had to follow the girls as they led a charge straight to a tailor¡¯s store. Before he could say anything, Kat had immediately turned her attention on him. He was subjected to a whirlwind of various shirts and pants until he was dizzy from it all. When they were finally satisfied, they left the orders with the bored-looking girl minding the store and dove right back into fray, dragging a frightened Riselda with them. They were in the changing stalls. The sounds coming from them were a mystery. Isaac could not tell if they were having fun or going through a horrific experience. It could very well be both! ------------------- Nyakka: ¡°Mou, they¡¯re practically rags at this point, meow~¡± Riselda: ¡°I don¡¯t have much choice. The Griffon destroyed everything else¡­¡± Kat: ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here in the first place! Now strip!¡± Riselda: ¡°Eep!!¡± Kat: ¡°Stop wriggling about, Ri-ri!¡± Nyakka: ¡°Ahaha-! I like that nickname! Ri-tan? Or Ri-ri-chan, I guess!¡± Riselda: ¡°S-S-Stop! I can do it my- Nyaaaa---!!¡± Nyakka: ¡°Oi, Kat-chan, be gentle when you handle the tail. It hurts if you pull too hard, y¡¯know.¡± Kat: ¡°It does? Sorry ¡®bout that. ¡° Riselda: ¡°T-Tis¡¯ forgiven. Just d-don- HYYYEEeeeeee---! W-Watch your fingers!¡± Nyakka: ¡°She just poked you in the side¡­Oh? Could it be? You¡¯re ticklish there~!¡± Kat: ¡°Eh? So you bind them, huh? Doesn¡¯t it constrict your breathing?¡± *rustle* Riselda: ¡°W-Wait!¡± Kat & Nyakka: ¡°Geh!!?¡± Nyakka: ¡°¡­Ahaha. This¡­This is¡­¡± Kat: ¡°¡­I¡¯m jealous.¡± Riselda: ¡°W-What are you doing? Nyaaaaaa---?!¡± Kat: ¡°I. AM. JEALOUS!¡± --------------------- Isaac shuddered. He had decided he urgently needed explore the rest of the store at that point and left. Given that Myth/Real had a fantasy backstory, the store¡¯s layout was surprisingly modern. Racks of clothing, a person manning the counter, changing rooms¡­ All of them were familiar sights. However, some things were clearly fantastical, like that enchanted loom/sewing machine combo in the display stand that wove clothes by itself. Isaac was instantly intrigued by such a thing, but there was a sign on it forbidding would-be enchanters from prying it open to have a look. There was a sign nailed to the machine, begging customers to refrain from taking the thing apart so that they could examine the insides. Isaac could see the signs of old damage on seams of the clothes-maker pieces. He felt the exasperation of the loom¡¯s owner(s). The storekeeper, a young human girl with blonde hair and a perpetually unimpressed expression, walked over to the machine with bolts of cloth in her arms. Swiftly touching hidden controls, she brought the machine to a halt, switched out the empty bolts with fresh ones and twiddled around with those controls again to start it up. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.¡°¡­What?¡± The girl said, casting a flat look over at Isaac. She finally got tired of his staring. ¡°What is this thing?¡± Isaac asked, gesturing at the machine. The storekeeper gave a lazy one-armed shrug and said, ¡°Dark Elf Auto-Loom. Me Ma and Pa got it. There¡¯s newer models, but this one went fer cheap.¡± She gave him a half-lidded glare. ¡°No touchin¡¯ the machine, or I¡¯ll freeze yer man-parts off.¡± She summoned and dismissed a tiny icicle briefly before trudging back to the counter. Isaac shivered. Chilly! ¡°He~ey, Isaac! Look over here!¡± Kat¡¯s voice rang out from behind him. He turned around. His brain screeched to a halt. He had never seen Riselda wear anything other than neck-to-ankle dresses. As she mentioned before, she dressed extremely modestly to divert attention and protect herself from Malcolm¡¯s unwanted advances. Even her travelling outfit was utterly practical. Kat and Nyakka had intervened directly. The outfit Riselda was wearing now was much more daring and more fitting for the ¡®fantasy medieval¡¯ than ¡®historically accurate medieval¡¯. It followed the lines of her (curvy!) body closely, but not tightly. Her dark green skirt reached below her knees, but was thinner than the voluminous versions she used to wear. It was slit up to the hips on either side, revealing a little more than the ripped dress she had been wearing. Under the skirt, she wore stockings and a new pair of long boots. They were stylish, but thankfully, the heels were low and comfortable. The leather bodice she wore now had straps and buckles instead of lace, and was made of studded leather. It was actually more protective than the old one, being the same practical cut. She had put on bracers that reached to her elbow, with puffy sleeves that tucked into them. Holes had been cut to show her shoulders. Her blouse was white and partially undone to let a tasteful amount of cleavage peek out, along with a folded pair of small glasses hanging in the valley from a string around her neck. (Of course, as Kat and Nyakka had found out, Riselda was quite busty indeed. She had hidden this fact by binding them quite tightly.) Riselda could not meet Isaac¡¯s eyes. She looked down and away, her cheeks flushed bashfully red and clutching one arm behind her back. Her body was turned slightly away. ¡°Breathe, Isaac! Breathe!¡± Isaac abruptly realized he was out of air and took a huge, gasping breath. He coughed as his body punished him for the lack of oxygen in his lungs. Kat and Nyakka burst into a giggling fit and linked arms with a paralysed Riselda to drag her away. ¡°This one¡¯s a keeper!¡± Nyakka declared. Isaac stared as they re-entered the changing rooms, fully realizing just how doomed he was. ---------------- The girls spent an agonizingly long time with their clothes shopping. Kat and Nyakka were not just buying for Riselda, but also themselves. Apparently, they wanted to look their best for the Feast later on. Nyakka also let slip that she was nearly arrested for indecent exposure by the town guard and was practically ordered to cover up. Add to the fact that the Auto-Loom could basically create custom-fit clothing incredibly quickly¡­ Isaac imagined that dealing with this every day might very well be the source of the storekeeper¡¯s unmotivated attitude. When they were (finally) done, Kat had stowed her heavy suit of loricae armor in her inventory and was wearing an elegant red and white dress with golden embroidery done in Maer fashion. Nyakka had opted for a rather clinging one-piece bodysuit that left her arms and much of her legs bare. The storekeeper did give her quite an odd look when she told her what she wanted, but it was made with little fuss in the end. Amusingly enough, she wore her usual chest belt at the exact same place, only over the suit. Riselda had changed out of the outfit she had worn first. Apparently, that was going to be her adventuring set from now on. She admitted it was very much easier to move in than everything she had worn previously. For the Victory Feast, Riselda had put her foot down and was going in a simple dress she picked out herself. She still looked great in it, in Isaac¡¯s opinion. After some quiet discussion, they decided that any enchantments could be applied by Isaac instead of paying for service. Apart from just paying for the cost of the necessary reagents and nothing more, Isaac could also train his [Runecarving] skill. Just before they left the shop, Kat and Nyakka blocked his way. ¡°Um¡­Is there something wrong?¡± Isaac asked, confused. ¡°Yep.¡± Kat confirmed. ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡± Isaac¡¯s eyes widened. He opened up his [Inventory] and gave it a quick look through. ¡°No, I have my new clothes right here. All my belongings are accounted for.¡± He reported. Nyakka¡¯s fist flashed out and bopped him on the head. ¡°Wrong! Don¡¯t you know you¡¯re being rude to Riselda, myah?¡± Kat nodded firmly. ¡°That¡¯s right! Everyone here has an [Inventory] except her! Shouldn¡¯t you offer to help her carry her stuff?¡± Riselda, her arms full of parcels, shook her head weakly. ¡°I-It¡¯s all right! I can carry these myself. No need to trouble-¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not all right! Shouldn¡¯t [Good Friends] help each other?¡± Kat declared passionately. ¡°[Friends] must always remember to [Share each other¡¯s burdens]!¡± Isaac was thunderstruck. ¡°Is¡­Is that so? I¡¯m sorry! I wasn¡¯t aware of this¡­!¡± Kat nodded sagely. ¡°That¡¯s right! What¡¯s more, it¡¯s a time-honored tradition that [Guys must carry their Girl Friends¡¯ shopping]! It¡¯s a [Teamwork Exercise] to deepen the bonds of their friendship! You¡¯ll get closer to one another!¡± Riselda could only protest weakly. ¡°No need! I-¡° Nyakka cut her off. ¡°It¡¯s true! It¡¯s true! That¡¯s how we Star-people do it! In fact, the guy can¡¯t use their inventory. This is to test their [Resolve]! It¡¯s necessary for Isaac here¡­to become an adult and a [Gentleman]!¡± (These two girls had synchronized perfectly to [Lie with Straight faces].) Isaac¡¯s eyes sparkled. ¡°So¡­that¡¯s the proper way, is it?¡± He said to himself. He turned to Riselda, honest and eager. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being so rude, Riselda. Please, let me carry your bags!¡± --[Puppy] Title activated!-- Riselda locked eyes with Isaac. Her willpower collapsed immediately! ¡°F-Fine.¡± She muttered, holding her parcels out for Isaac to take. After the group left, the storekeeper could only shake her head. ¡°That poor man didn¡¯t stand a chance, did he? Meh, serves him right for being gullible¡­¡± Arc 1: Closed Beta - Conclusion A/N: I don''t know why, but this chapter was an absolute pain to write. Poll included in this for an extra tidbit, if you guys want it. Arc 1 Conclusion WORLDTREE HQ ¡°Yes, hello?¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Is that so? Have you checked their credentials?¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Ah. That¡¯s good. Is there anything else?¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Alright then. Talk to you next time.¡± *beep* *Rustle* ¡°¡­This changes everything. I need to move the schedule up.¡± *BANG* A fist slams onto a tabletop. ¡°Damn! Why so soon? I¡¯m not prepared! Nobody is prepared for this!¡± *Sigh* ¡°No. This is fine. You bastards always turn up at inconvenient times. If that¡¯s how you want to play it¡­then so be it. Let¡¯s engage in dance once more, then¡­¡± ---------------- Arv?nnr, Central Square The sun was setting on the day. The light had slowly been shifting to golden tones. From up on the town walls, the scenery of the Bramgild Plains seemed to turn have turned into a marvel of gold below and deepening blue above. Isaac was finishing up on the last errands he had to run for the day. He had split up with the rest of the group after dropping off their new purchases off at the Auroch Inn. Their main concerns now were to deal with personal supplies. Kat had to go summon her Legionnaires and release them to enjoy themselves at the Feast. They had earned it, after all. Nyakka had to log off to grab some sleep. (She lived in Japan, so it was pretty late at night there already.) Riselda needed to place orders to replace her stock of medicinal herbs and antidotes from the only other apothecary in town. Isaac went to the blacksmith with his sword and a griffon talon. It was a perfect opportunity to upgrade his [Unnamed Saber]. He had felt that his sword did not cut deep enough in the battle with the Griffon. The biggest problem was with its tough iron-hard plumage that acted like flexible armor. Arv?nnr¡¯s blacksmith turned out to be quite different from Thistle¡¯s. For one, Ingrid was most definitely a woman. For another, she was as soft-spoken as Seamus was loud. ¡°¡­I see.¡± Ingrid said as she closed one eye and examined Isaac¡¯s weapon with exacting focus. She tilted it this way and that, inspecting the saber thoroughly. ¡°I can make it heavier, but I recommend only slightly more so. If it¡¯s too drastic it will throw you off.¡± She put the sword down on the bench and picked up the griffon talon. ¡°If we use this, then you don¡¯t need steel ingots. It¡¯s a better material. It¡¯s trickier, but I can handle it.¡±
Weapon Upgrade
Current Weapon: Iron Saber DMG: 8 SPD: 10 WGT: 3 Although plain, this saber is well-forged. It is a light weapon with a slight curve, ideal for slashing attacks. Best used from a mount. This weapon has been engraved with a Mage Knight''s [Focus Array]
Result: Talon Saber DMG: 15 SPD: 21 WGT: 5 A saber worthy of a blooded warrior. A powerful talon taken from a strong monster was infused into it, granting a sharper edge and some of the monster''s savage fury at the cost of extra weight.
Isaac smiled and nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll trust your expertise, then. How long will it take?¡± Ingrid tilted her head. ¡°¡­Won¡¯t get done today, definitely - what with the Feast and all. Come back the day after tomorrow. The price will be 14 silver coins, you pay once the sword¡¯s done. Enchantments will cost extra. Just in case, I need to tell you this; reinforcing will wipe any enchantments already on the blade¡­the carvings will melt in the forge.¡± ¡°Uh, that is rather obvious.¡± Isaac pointed out. ¡°I¡¯m an enchanter myself, so I know the risks.¡± Ingrid snorted. ¡°Oh, you sweet summer child. Wait until you run your own business. I guarantee you some people will ask for the moon and whine when you don¡¯t hand them the sun.¡± Isaac winced at her bitter tone. ¡°It must happen a lot if you put it like that. Well, I won¡¯t obstruct you any longer. Farewell, blacksmith.¡± ¡°Right, have a good time at the Feast.¡± The woman waved absentmindedly as she went back into her shop. With this task done, Isaac left the smithy. ---------------------- Arv?nnr, Festival Grounds From what Isaac could remember of school events, it took at least a week to set up any sort of major events. However, he also remembered that the school faculty usually had to run themselves ragged trying to coax the various students, volunteers, workers and even teachers themselves to work with any amount of coordination. To summarize; they were the kind of affairs that the phrase [Herding Cats] was invented for. Perhaps, he reflected, they lacked the motivation the people of this town had. They, as one, had felt loss. They, as one, tasted victory. Because of that, they were united in their goal and shared the energy to make this Feast a reality. When he had passed this place earlier in the day, there was barely a pile of wood dumped onto the ground that served as barely more than a marker for where the fire pit for roasting the Griffon¡¯s meat would actually be placed. Now, Isaac was looking at long tables, benches, mead casks, pennants and all the various sort of decorations one expected of an actual festival and not a simple ¡®feast¡¯. But then again, there was magic. Isaac recalled the net denizens¡¯ mock-serious habit of blaming everything in wizards. And they were in ¡®Viking Land¡¯, as Narghel put it. So, in short, Viking Wizards did it. Something hard slammed in between Isaac¡¯s shoulderblades, jolting him out of his wandering thoughts and the air out of his lungs. Choking in a breath, he spun around to see a grinning Nyakka with her hand upraised. Standing behind her was Bara-thon, Narghel, Kat and Riselda. ¡°Yooo~! Bushido-kun! What¡¯re you thinking about? You didn¡¯t hear us when we called your name!¡± Isaac sheepishly scratched the back of his head. He did not remember that at all. ¡°Ah, I was thinking that the townspeople really do work fast. They¡¯re almost done with the preparations.¡± ¡°Yes, I was of same mind.¡± Riselda concurred, an impressed look on her face. Kat grinned. ¡°Never underestimate the motivation of a party. People will move mountains for one!¡± She said, nodding sagely. Narghel snickered. ¡°There¡¯s beer involved. It should be obvious from the start!¡± Bara-thon had a wry twist to his lips. ¡°It¡¯s mead, not beer.¡± He pointed out. The masked mage shrugged. ¡°Same difference!¡± ¡°Myahaha! Well, I think we¡¯ve got a bit of time left.¡± She summoned a screen with a few quick flicks of her fingers. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s right here. We got 2 hours more. Let¡¯s go take a look around!¡± She declared, before running ahead. ¡°Hey! Come- Aw, crap.¡± Bara-thon cursed. ¡°Bah, we¡¯ll catch up with her and make sure she doesn¡¯t turn the whole place upside down. Seriously, it¡¯s like she¡¯s 5 years old.¡± He grumbled as he starting chasing after her. Narghel started jogged after him, turning back as he did. ¡°Sorry guys, guess we¡¯ll meet up later or something.¡± Then he turned around and ran after his friends in earnest. Three people were left standing there. Kat recovered first. ¡°Okay, anybody else with a pressing need to run off elsewhere please speak up now!¡± She declared. Isaac and Riselda exchanged looks and shook their heads. ¡°No? Good.¡± Kat said, her expression going from lighthearted to serious swiftly. ¡°Isaac, Mom¡¯s coming in 3 hours. We¡¯re¡­we¡¯re finally going to be together again. All of us, for real this time.¡± She finished. Mom. His mother. Isaac was struck with a sudden panic. How much would she have changed in 6 years? Would he even recognize her ¨C like what happened with Kat? He gulped, pulling the fear back into its pit. No. He would not make that same mistake again. ¡°Isaac, calm down.¡± He heard Riselda murmur from aside him. His hands were curled into fists and trembling. He relaxed them, feeling muscles twinge and joints creak. ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± He muttered back. Kat was looking at him with concern in her eyes. ¡°Isaac, it¡¯s mom. It¡¯s just mom. You don¡¯t have to be afraid.¡± ¡°I know!¡± He spat. ¡°I¡­I will handle it. I¡¯m not going to screw this up.¡± Kat did not look convinced, but she nodded anyway. ¡°Okay. She¡¯ll be in by eight p.m. Let¡¯s meet on the town walls, on the [North Gatehouse] battlement. It should be nice and quiet there.¡± Kat smiled and patted Isaac¡¯s shoulder reassuringly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Mom won¡¯t run from you. In any case, I¡¯ll be right there too. If you¡¯re still unsure, then just tell her about all the moments that we treasured together so she¡¯ll know for sure that it¡¯s you, okay?¡± Isaac let out a long breath. ¡°¡­Yes, I will do that. Thank you, Kat.¡± His sister grinned. ¡°Good! Now, let¡¯s go find the rest and wait for the fun to start!¡± ----------------------- Two hours later, the whole town was gathered in the Festival Grounds. The Griffon¡¯s carcass had been thoroughly taken apart. However, the towering piles of meat hinted at least where some of it went. They were piled in huge trays next to the unlit fire-pit at the exact center of the grounds, ready to be cooked. It was both vindictively satisfying and sad for Isaac to see the state his former foe had been rendered into. On one hand, he remembered keenly the deaths of so many, both warrior and helpless innocent. On the other, he still admired the unyielding courage of the monster¡¯s last moments. Still, it was probably best not to mention this particular tidbit. He could see many smoldering glares being aimed at the remnants of the Griffon¡¯s mortal shell. Isaac wondered how many people would continue to hold that poisonous grudge against something long dead. If he needed to, he would rather cast the blame where it should be aimed; the Players who brought the monster to the town in the first place. Those particular scumbags had been kicked out of town rather dramatically yesterday by all the guards and Players, with them retreating into the distance while hurling uninventive death threats behind. ¡°What the fuck? Why are we [Exiled]?¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± The guard growled, shoving H3adBash forward with his shield. ¡°You¡¯re the cause of the deaths of many of our brothers and sisters and yet you protest innocence? Are you delusional or just that callous?¡± ¡°You can¡¯t do this!¡± The barbarian protested. ¡°This isn¡¯t fair!¡± A Player thumped him on the back of the head. ¡°NPCs don¡¯t respawn, dimwit.¡± The fox Poukha said. ¡°That means you¡¯re murderers plain and simple to them. Besides, MPK still counts, or haven¡¯t you noticed that your names are red?¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.There was a crowd of townspeople on the walls watching the group of four being manhandled out of the town. There were Players up there as well, including Kat. She had her hands up, framed s if she was trying to gauge the scene for a picture. Her grin seemed to have been stolen from some savage aquatic predator. ¡°Cry some more¡­¡± She muttered. Since Isaac was standing next to her, he could see that a screen was hovering in the space between her hands, a blinking [RECORD] phrase in red flashing in one corner. The four criminals were hurled bodily outside the town gates as the town herald stepped forward, a circle of glowing light winking into existence around his throat. ¡°Let it be known!¡± He bellowed, his voice magically amplified. ¡°That these four are no longer welcome in the fair Thanedom of Arv?nnr for their crimes, of the worst which is conspiracy to harm and the complicity in the unjust deaths of many! SO MOTE IT BE!¡± This was nothing like the time that Isaac and Riselda had been exiled. At least back then, they had been innocent and were accompanied by their friends as a show of support for them and protest against the Alderman¡¯s edict. This time, the people gathered on the walls were unanimous in their scorn. They were hurling rocks, rotten food and insults at the four exiles below. With no other choice, H3adBash and his party could only run away in disgrace. Isaac firmly banished the memories away. He did not want to sink into a brooding mood ¨C he will have plenty of drama to deal with later. Nyakka shifted restlessly next to him, causing him to realize he had missed the start and much of the chant being recited by a Skaldr swathed in an ornately embroidered cloak. ¡°¡­honoured be the kin whom now are borne aloft by the Valkyrie.¡± He solemnly intoned. ¡°Rejoice their passage into the warrior¡¯s heaven, the eternal battlefield. Their gaze is upon you now! Grieve as you rejoice! Sing their praises to speed their way! Extoll their deeds to Valhalla so that they may be received with even greater glory!¡± His voice rose to triumphant crescendo. ¡°Einherjar! Ye who defend the worlds above and below! We now dedicate this victory to you! May the day come when we stand side by side once more, against foes beyond!¡± Horns blew. Voices were raised in cheer. The Victory Feast had officially begun. ¡°YAHOO~!¡± Nyakka practically erupted from his side. Isaac only noticed her fingers clamped around the collar of his tunic when he found himself being dragged in her direction. Bara-thon was his fellow victim here. Nyakka drew more than one startled look at the ease with which she dragged two grown men around. To Isaac, the night was lost in a whirl of colour, music and people. The orange light of the roaring bonfire almost overpowered the sizzle of cooking meat and green vegetables as cooks bustled in a barely organized mess, ensuring that the townspeople were fed. Blue, brown, green, white, and the few flashes of brighter colours as the townspeople donned their more festive clothing for the night. Their voices clashed and mixed in laughter and song. There was a ring of dancers around the fire pit and the cooks. Nyakka had let Isaac go at some point, leaving him adrift amongst a stream of dancing folk. He remembered being caught up in the whirl by many people. ¡­There was a young human girl, whom giggled and spun with more energy than skill. She had no identifying name above her head. Isaac tried clumsily to follow her steps and barely managed not to make a fool of himself. She released him with a final laugh to seek yet more partners. ¡­Somehow, he got dragged into a line of burly men and women. He recognized the face of the one whom had him by the arm. How could he not? His face had been quite visible when Isaac had nearly been squashed to a pulp by a pile of steel and men. They stomped like they were performing some warlike ritual, an aggressive fervor. Still, it was fun and simple to learn. Isaac learned that the Romulii Legionnaires were good people after all, if a little intimidating. ¡­He found himself holding hands with Riselda. She was just as startled as he was. The moment of stillness passed and she smiled, if a little distantly. She ensnared him in a slow, elegant spin. He fell into her rhythm as she took the lead with the grace he was coming to associate with her. After what seemed to be an eternity, she unlaced her fingers from his hands and vanished into the crowd. Isaac could not help but feel something intangible drift away as she did¡­ Finally, he managed to escape from the crowd, feeling oddly drained. He retreated to the edges of the Square and found a seat on a nearby bench. Despite his exhaustion, Isaac felt a buzzing warmth in his chest. He could also feel it all around him in the air. This was the joy created by people in some of the brightest moments of their life, he realized. It was a different happiness to the type he felt when he basked in Mom¡¯s affection. It was something he had yearned to feel before, sitting on the sidelines and excluded from all the other kids. It was then that a semi-transparent screen popped up in front of him. Isaac felt his heart leap into his throat. Mom was here. ---------------------------- With the majority of the town attending the Feast, the rest of Arv?nnr was dark and empty. Now that the sun had sunk below the horizon, the town walls cast dark shadows from the round moon overhead. Isaac¡¯s footsteps were steady despite the dark. The Svartalfar had good night vision, the magnitude depending on their blood heritage. The shrouded roads were easy to navigate for him. He found the towers of the wall with great ease, since there were torches in their brackets all around the inside of the walls. There was a guard standing by the entrance to the tower. It gave Isaac a sense of relief to see such dedication to their jobs, though he also felt a pang of pity for the poor folks whom had this duty. ¡°Halt! Announce yourself!¡± The grizzled man declared. He was clad in a chainmail byrnie and a pointed helm. An axe was looped on one wrist and his shield on the other. A lantern swung on his belt. ¡°Good sir, my name is Isaac.¡± He introduced himself. ¡°There is a lady with her hair tied in twin tails on the battlements ¨C She is wearing a red and white dress, I believe. Her name is Katherine.¡± The man looked him over with squinted eyes before he relaxed. ¡°Aye, there is a young lady by that name. She gave your description too.¡± He scratched his chin and stepped aside, pulling the door open as he did so. ¡°Go right up, then.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir, for your understanding. And thank you for your vigilance, especially tonight.¡± Isaac replied respectfully. ¡°Bah, it¡¯s fine.¡± The man waved absently. ¡°The lass upstairs told us she was expecting someone. Besides, the two of you were heroes. It should be us thanking you.¡± Then, the guard gave him a sly wink. ¡°Besides, we¡¯re working in shifts anyway. I¡¯ll get my share of the fun later.¡± Isaac chuckled and proceeded up the stairs. With each step up, his heart seemed to beat faster, his ribs seemed to squeeze in on his lungs just a bit more. The shadows, dancing in firelight from the torches, seemed to taunt him with silent voices. Isaac could imagine the words. Run. Flee, coward. Pain awaits you! They were familiar words. Months¡­no, years ago, he would have listened and wilted under the weight of them. This was a different Isaac. One who had shucked off the chains pain had on him. One who had seen what it means to die. One whom had dealt death to others to defend the lives of those that counted on him. His reaction to doubt and fear was to harden his heart into steel. Clench your teeth. Close your Fists. Move forwards. The moonlight shone down on him as Isaac emerged from the top of the stairwell. Turning his head, he could see the glow of the great bonfire in the centre of the Festival Square. On the other side was the darkened sea of the Bramgild Plains. Or, rather, the sea of stars that was the Plains and the night sky above. At the onset of night, the fireflies had taken flight, turning the Plains into a shifting, dancing galaxy of living stars to rival the one in the heavens. The gorgeous view was not what he was here for. Isaac focused his attention at the roof of the northern gatehouse, which was only a short distance away from where he stood. There, standing on the stone and looking up into the sky, were two people. The one with the now-iconic twin-tailed hairstyle Isaac knew was Katherine Walker, his sister. She was still wearing her new red and white dress, which meant she most likely had attended the Feast before she made her way here. The other person was shorter than Kat. She wore plain clothing ¨C a white blouse and brown leggings, and over it all, a black leather blacksmith¡¯s apron. She had short, sensibly cut hair. As Isaac got closer, he began to make out her features from the side. He felt his guts clench into a tight, painful knot. He knew this face. His feet faltered and stopped several paces before he could reach them. Isaac had thought too much about what he wanted to say at this moment. Now all the words had jammed into each other on their way up. He could almost feel it, like they had crushed themselves into reality as a lump in his throat. He could only stand silently there, unable to advance, unable to retreat. Before he could do or say anything, Mom turned her head and saw him. ¡°¡­Ah.¡± She uttered. ¡°You¡­you must be...¡± She took a step closer. Isaac could see the crows¡¯ feet at the corners of her eyes, the deeper lines of worry now carved on her face. He saw the shine of forming tears and the fragile tremble of her lips. Kat turned and saw him too and placed a hand on Mom¡¯s shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s him, Mom.¡± She said, her voice carrying over the quietness of the night. Mom cast a grateful look at Kat. Her gaze turned on him once more and Isaac was rooted again. ¡°Isaac?¡± She asked, her voice hesitant. She took a slow step towards him. ¡°Isaac? It¡¯s me, Mom.¡± He heard her say. Mom knelt down in front of him. She ran a tender hand down his face. ¡°How was your day, Isaac?¡± He nodded shyly and began to speak¡­ Step by step, she got closer. ¡°My son¡­¡± He bit back a hiss of pain. Father had been drunk, so his fist had hurt. But he had avoided hitting the face. He always did. And yet, Mom knew he hurt. ¡°Isaac! Oh, come here, let me have a look!¡± She fussed, gathering him into her arms. Isaac leaned in and sobbed quietly. ¡°Isaac¡­¡± She picked up the pace. Finally, Isaac managed to pull a single word free from the tangle in his chest. ¡°Mom.¡± He breathed. Feeling a warm weight collide into him and arms gripping him tightly in an embrace, Isaac sank down on his knees. The unbearable tension flowed out with his tears as Kat joined the hug. None of them had any words. After six gray years, they were reunited. They lost track of the passage of time, immersed in the presence of a family whole once again. Apart from muffled sobs, they were almost silent, as if too large a noise would shatter them apart once again. Isaac almost flinched at the sensation of small hands cupping his face. ¡°You don¡¯t look like yourself at all, my dear¡­¡± He heard his mom whisper. ¡°But I don¡¯t care about that! I¡¯m just so relieved...¡± The clenched feeling in his chest eased greatly, and Isaac nodded wordlessly. A warm sensation trickled slowly into an aching hole he had only just become aware of. Someone in the group hug shifted. ¡°Oh, look!¡± Kat gasped softly. They turned their gaze skyward. At first, Isaac could only frown, squinting his eyes while his eyes searched for whatever surprised his sister so much. Then, he realized that the stars seemed to be growing brighter by the second. The night sky was filled with streaking light, as if the stars were falling to the earth. Over the distance, Isaac could hear shouts of surprise echo over from the Festival Square. He looked over to Kat. She was smiling in wonder. ¡°This¡­This must have been what the people saw, when we Players first arrived.¡± She said to no one in particular. Isaac looked up again. ¡°Something ends, something else begins?¡± He asked quietly. The words felt familiar in his mouth. ¡°Yes. Definitely.¡± They sat there on the walls, watching the [End] of their years of grief. They sat there, and watched the [Beginning] of a tumultuous future. Arc 2: Open Beta - Chapter 1 Arc 2: Open Beta Chapter 1 Japan This is a city. A city that was, in many ways, more of a hive than a place to live. Creature comforts were all close at hand, but that did not ease the pressure of living with the sheer masses of humanity pushing in from all sides. This was a four-way crossing in one of the more famous locations in this city, this country. Feet ground away at white paint over black asphalt each day, wearing the zebra stripes away so quickly that the fresh coat re-painted over the faded marks were already no longer a pristine white. At a casual look, it would seem as though the road markings had been suspended in time, always looking this worn. Senju Isumi did not pause too long to ponder this. The middle of the road was no place to space out, unless one suddenly developed an irresistible urge to inspect a car¡¯s bumper at precisely zero centimeters away. She shuffled as quickly as she could in the stream of pedestrians and made it to the curb just in time for the traffic lights to stop blaring their age-old jingle and turn red once again. She squeezed out from the river and stretched languidly. She never did like how frumpy her seifuku-style uniform made her look, but she was marginally grateful that it did not attract the attention of horny teenage boys ¨C the horny teenage otakus were already creepy enough. Isumi¡¯s eyes caught one of the huge electronic billboards out of the many that completely hid the windows of the skyscrapers all around. Colorful scenes of fantasy and magic. Epic clashes between armies of humans, elves and monsters. A wide plethora of cultures based off historical examples. The corners of Isumi¡¯s lips twitched upward as each familiar sight introduced itself to the world. Then, she had to stop her own jaw from dropping as she watched a very familiar battle unfold before her eyes. ¡°Ah! Hehehe! Here it comes¡­¡± She muttered to herself as a Griffon reared in the midst of a veritable forest of blades. Her eyes picked out a barely-dressed catgirl driving a rain of blows with fists and feet right into its side. A huge man with the entire hide of a bull hanging from his shoulders bashed its feathers to shreds, then a Dog Poukha launched himself forwards and upwards, decapitating the Griffon in a single strike. Isumi could not help but grin widely. ¡°Oooh¡­we¡¯re on TV!¡± she thought as the words [MYTH/REAL ONLINE ¨C IN OPEN BETA NOW!] emblazoned itself proudly on a black background in bold katakana. ¡°Bara-kun¡¯s gonna flip once the ads hit England. Bushido-kun will probably turn red. It¡¯s gonna be hilarious!¡± Because of this, Isumi made her way home with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips. Having gone straight home from her martial arts lessons, she immediately went for a warm bath ¨C the brief shower she took at the dojo was nowhere near enough for her to feel really clean. Later at night, Isumi put the finishing touches on her homework and retrieved her precious D-set from its stand on her desk. Senju Isumi, 17 years old student and martial arts enthusiast, cast off her real-life identity and assumed the form of Nyakka, the Svartalfar Pugilist once more. ------------ England Terry Goodsworth was not having a good day. College had been particularly torturous today as the usual advanced chemistry professor was off sick, leaving a last minute stand-in to sub in for her today. The substitute teacher was completely unmotivated, which led to a class full of bored student. That naturally led to aimless chaos and was thus the trigger for the pounding headache he was nursing now. That affliction was currently making his part-time job a trying affair, especially since the new hire was screwing things up left, right and centre. Nobody wanted to touch this particular shitstorm with a ten foot pole¡­which naturally meant that the entire pile of turds landed square in his lap. Terry massaged the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before pushing his glasses back into place and turning around to face the dull gaze of the store¡¯s newest disaster. ¡°Right, listen. You¡¯re going to fetch a notepad and a pen. You¡¯re going to come back here and jot down everything I say. There¡¯s more than a few good reasons why we do things a certain way around here, so you need to memorize it.¡± Terry ordered. He could see the other guy¡¯s pimply face begin to harden mulishly. Terry was not in the mood for backtalk. ¡°Just bloody do it. Another screw up like today and I¡¯ll boot you out of the store myself!¡± He growled. As the teenaged idiot scampered away, his face pale, Terry glared at his retreating back. ¡°I hope H.R. tosses you out on your arse, you condescending, incompetent little twat!¡± he snarled in the privacy of his mind. Once his shift was done, Terry¡¯s headache was on the verge of morphing into a pounding migraine. He left his workplace as quickly as he could and went straight to his apartment and a waiting bottle of aspirin. Sitting on his couch, he stared at his own D-Set with narrowed eyes. Though his headache had been dulled down to a mild throbbing instead of the vice-like pressure in the temples it had been earlier, he also felt sluggish and sleepy thanks to the aspirin. If he logged on, he probably would not be performing at his best. What was more, he would have to deal with a catgirl who was far too energetic for her own good. ¡­Strangely enough, that did not sound so bad. ¡°Ah, bollocks.¡± Terry grumbled. He scooped the device up and padded away to his bed. -------------- U.S.A, Hospital Katherine Walker squeezed her brother¡¯s hand. On the other side of the bed, their mother was doing the same. In between them was the still, emaciated form of Isaac Walker. If it were not for the uncombed brown hair poking out from under the D-Set and the lack of wrinkles, it would have been easy to mistake him for an elderly invalid on the very verge of death. The Long-term ward felt cramped, for there was a series of large and powerful computers that had taken new residence in the room, along with a team of analysts and doctors. One of them stood slightly apart from the Walker family, watching his touchpad intently. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head. ¡°No change¡­¡± The team about him murmured and nodded soberly. They knew that coma recovery was iffy at best. Kat and her mom grimaced and squeezed Isaac¡¯s hands in support. The doctor with the touchpad clenched his jaw, but he did not lose hope. Instead, he only got even more determined. After all, there had been significant progress in the months since his patient¡¯s consciousness had been dumped unceremoniously into an MMORPG. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I still felt nothing.¡± A flat, mechanically generated voice droned from a speaker. The technicians were proud of that breakthrough. Using the D-Set¡¯s internal mechanisms to communicate with the patient prevented total sensory deprivation during these tests. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Isaac.¡± Mrs. Walker replied with as much cheer as she could muster. ¡°Just keep trying your best!¡± ¡°We¡¯ll log in later, okay?¡± Kat told her brother, looking directly at the microphone. ¡°If you can¡¯t find anybody for your Adventurer¡¯s Guild Initiation quest, then I¡¯ll lend a hand.¡± The short laugh that emerged from the speaker sounded sarcastically flat thanks to the program, but Kat knew better and substituted it with her brother¡¯s gentle tone in her imagination. ¡°Then I shall hold you to that promise. For now, is there anything interesting that happened today?¡± He asked. What followed was warm time as the Walker family shared a laugh over Katherine¡¯s retelling of a particularly hilarious set of disaster dominoes, the culprit being an airheaded, bumbling ditz of a freshman at her medical school. Recounting their daily lives to each other had become something of a family habit. It was the best they could do to help Isaac re-connect to Real Life. He was also being ¡®homeschooled¡¯ with homework their Mom gave to him, starting from the school grade he had been before the coma. That one was perhaps not so enjoyable, but he did it anyway to give his family some peace of mind. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡­Or that was what he told himself. Intellectually, he knew that he would need the knowledge to at least get a G.E.D. if he ever regained control of his body. If he was honest, he would rather fight the Griffon alone and naked than wade through page after page of brain-numbing torture. But this was something he needed to do if he did not want to become a burden on his family, so Isaac kept his displeasure to himself and buckled down. Fortunately, he was free to relieve his stress on the many, many monsters inhabiting Myth/Real online. Isaac also discovered the simple joy of receiving heartfelt thanks from the various clients he met through the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. If there was one thing he was worried about, it was Riselda¡¯s strange behavior. He was aware that there was much he did not know about her, but she had been more aloof in the way she treated him. She was friendly enough, but¡­distant. Isaac was feeling troubled because he was starting to think that he had wronged her in some way. He had come to realize that he should ask her about it and clear the air between them before it got worse. He did not want to lose their friendship over something he may have done. With his goal decided, Isaac pulled himself along with mental limbs towards the world that had saved him. He soared into a tunnel of light and colour. At the end of it, he could see the familiar words¡­ -------------- Gedbramen Peak The Great Mountain of Gedbramen was tall and mighty, a colossal monument of stone and ice the earth raised to touch the sky. The lofty upper reaches howled constantly in winds that would blow even the heaviest beast off its feet and down the mountainside to dash their bodies against the ground far, far, far below. That was all the reason Hralna needed to not be there. She was sensible enough to conduct her business on one of the lower peaks. Unlike its white-clad brethren, it was low enough to be barely covered in snow, even at the very tip. The wind was pretty nippy, but Normaer blood ran in her veins. The chilling breeze hardly rated as an irritant, let alone a concern. Though, she rather liked the way her grey cloak was billowing. It was dramatic enough to satisfy her exacting tastes. She tapped her simple staff on the snow in a simple rhythm. With such a commanding view, she easily spotted a black speck appear in the icy blue of the mountain sky. It grew rapidly, splitting from one black blob into two. Within moments, she saw the motion of flapping wings. She smiled as the two blobs finally flew close enough to reveal their identity as ravens that settled on each of her shoulders in a flurry of wings. ¡°Hralna, you misbegotten, trollspawned bitch. You just had to pick this place. This fucking mountain with its fucking cold and the great fucking Hraesvelgurs every-fucking-where. You do know they love to eat ravens, right?¡± She heard one gripe from its perch on her left shoulder. Since she no longer had use of her left eye, she had to turn her head to look at the speaking raven. ¡°My, my, you seem to be a little salty there, Muginn.¡± She commented with a grin. There was a snort from her right shoulder. ¡°Considering that we just came back from an all-fish diet on that leaky bucket the Romulii call a ship, then it¡¯s a miracle that my brother¡¯s this civil!¡± Huginn chortled. ¡°Oh, fuck you!¡± Muginn shot back. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t swing that way, Huginn. Besides, incest is icky.¡± ¡°Ahem!¡± Hralna cut in. ¡°You two can snipe at each other as much as you want after the report.¡± She told them, a note of warning in her tone. The ravens looked at each other before rolling their eyes in unison. ¡°Yes, oh great and mighty Grey Wanderer. We hear and obey.¡± They chorused in the most bored tone of voice they could manage. Hralna just sighed and let the ravens¡¯ disrespect wash over her. Huginn and Muginn were vastly older than she was. The elderly cannot help being ornery, especially when they were as senile as these two. ¡°Hoi! You were thinking of something rude again!¡± ¡°Fucking disrespectful, you brat!¡± ¡­¡­. Eventually, the two ravens calmed down enough to give a detailed report of their scouting mission across the world. She nodded grimly at the increasing number of Unborn attacks, the signs of frenzied and mutated monsters as well as rumblings of disquiet amongst the various nations of the world. ¡°¡­Oh. So little Arthur was unscathed?¡± She asked. ¡°It was a fucking near thing, that¡¯s for sure!¡± Muginn ruffled his feathers. ¡°Brr¡­The Unborn are still damn creepy to me even after so long. Something so big appearing out of thin air like that¡­Fucking unnatural, I tell ya! Good thing Oberon was visiting that day.¡± Hralna cracked a thin, sharp smile at that. ¡°Did he use Pollenkill?¡± Huginn croaked out a laugh. ¡°Heh! He sure did. The abomination died on the spot and more than one person needed a new change of clothes! It was¡­messy.¡± Hralna heaved out a sigh of relief. ¡°Well, my godson wasn¡¯t hurt at all, so all¡¯s fine and well. Now, let¡¯s move on to the most important subject.¡± At that, all the lighthearted mischief seemed to evaporate from the area. Huginn, Muginn and Hralna all became utterly serious. ¡°The Star-people. The Star-born.¡± Hralna stated. Huginn cocked his head. ¡°That¡¯s right. The strange beings that were born from falling stars. Or, that¡¯s what they¡¯re supposed to be, because I¡¯ve never seen falling stars that leave no trace on the earth when they impact. Not in such unprecedented numbers, at least.¡± Muginn mimicked the sound of someone spitting to the side. ¡°Damn right. From what I¡¯ve witnessed, they behave more or less like everybody else, if a little strange at most times. With disturbing differences, though¡­¡± Huginn nodded gravely. ¡°They all learn with frightening speed. Their power grows as quickly as they learn. Most of all, something¡¯s odd with their souls.¡± ¡°Death means fucking nothing to them! That¡¯s exactly like the Unborn!¡± Muginn spat. Hralna rubbed her chin. ¡°That may be true, but remember that those invaders possess no soul at all. The new guys aren¡¯t like our old foes in this important area.¡± She pointed out. Huginn bobbed his head. ¡°Point. There¡¯s one other thing, too. Something about them feels familiar, don¡¯t you think?¡± Muginn considered that point. ¡°Now that you mention it¡­¡± He admitted grudgingly. Hralna let out a low chuckle. ¡°Heh, I was wondering how long before this would come up.¡± Huginn and Muginn fell silent and stared at Hralna. ¡°¡­You know something.¡± ¡°You wench! I know that look! You¡¯ve got something twisty hidden in your sleeves again, don¡¯t you?¡± Her only reply was to hold a hand up to her mouth demurely and let out a coy ¡°Uhuhuhu~!¡± ¡°Aw, shit! Not again!¡± ¡°I foresee migraines. Lots and lots of migraines.¡± Hralna cast her gaze out over the horizon beyond. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll just say that we¡¯ve been hedging our bets, so to speak. This is just the first few steps. We¡¯ve just laid down the board - it¡¯s time to start setting up the pieces.¡± Huginn and Muginn exchanged looks again. Together as one, they let out a deep, deep sigh. ¡°Oh boy, here we go again¡­¡± ¡°Gods give me strength¡­¡± Hralna¡¯s laughter echoed up and down the peaks that day. Coincidentally, a strange rumor of a Mountain Witch began to circulate amongst a nearby village¡­ ----------------- This is the only the beginning. The day of union shall arrive soon. Shall it be enough? Are we too late? There is nothing we can do now, save one thing. One small thing. Have faith. Believe. Because we have nothing else. -------------------