THE UNDERSANDS

ENORA UNLEASHED VOLUME 1

ARLO ADAMS

DUSTIN PORTA

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Enora Unleashed Book 2 Is Available

1

“Kyra!” Carol flagged me down as I sauntered by her office. She caught me just as I stuffed the last bite of a stale bagel in my mouth.

“Hm-mmm.” I swallowed and tried again. “Hi.”

“Shh! Look.” Carol pointed at her screen.

On the high-res monitor, a charismatic hero strolled into a lava-filled chamber clutching a samurai sword in each hand. The CGI was next level. Every detail of the surroundings bled a dark reality—the sweat on his cheek, the flutter of his eyelids against the radiating heat… even ash that smeared when he swiped the back of his hand across his face.

He approached a dais atop wide stairs at the opposite end of the cavern beyond the fiery pools, raised one sword toward a demon on the other side of the cavern, then bounced off an invisible barrier.

A line of hunched figures entered the room, followed by the big bad dude.

I leaned over my coworker’s shoulder. “New movie?”

A dark spirit sailed skyward. The big demon guy with horns twisting off either side of his head filled the room with raucous laughter.

Then the hero dropped the money line—the one that would draw cheers in every crowded theater on launch weekend. “I’ve been kicking the asses of bullies like you for a long time, but I’ve never looked forward to it more than today.”

Carol dropped a pen on her desk and turned toward me with an incredulous stare. She tapped a fingertip against her screen a few times. “It’s the new Infinity release!”

“Okay, but that’s not actual gameplay. It’s a cutscene, right?” Her furrowed brow was all the answer I needed. I scanned the scene again and absorbed the hyperrealism through new eyes. “Sweet Jesus. No wonder the D-bags have been flocking around their cubicles chattering all day.”

Carol shook her head. “As much time as you spend in your freaking pod galavanting around in Light Of Babylon, you must have heard about this.”

Play, I did. The guild I’d joined boasted twelve thousand players, which suited me because I could show up for a dungeon run then disappear into the crowd when the last boss dropped. Virtual reality was the perfect escape from a life surrounded by ingrates, and god bless Nokuro Takemoto and Infinity Designs for taking it to the next level. But what I saw on-screen was a new plateau, entirely. Jaw-dropping stuff.

Carol tinkered in LOB from time to time, but I wouldn’t have called her an enthusiast. It spoke reams about her character as our branch’s HR liaison that she took interest in whatever hot topic of the day circulated around the office.

On her screen, the Gemini guy—spelled pretentiously as G3m1n1—and the big red baddie faced off. It was cool, but I had a hard time believing the graphics could be that fluid considering the resources necessary to render such an insane environment. Hell, the lava was making me sweat.

I shook the back of her chair twice. “When did this drop?”

“Infinity dropped it out of the blue on their site last night. A few LOB fans spotted it within seconds, then it went viral. Network nodes on the east and west coasts took a dump. ISPs scrambled. At this point, every nerd on the planet is at half-mast and climbing.”

HR or not, Carol had a way with words.

I shoved my friend’s back. “This is insane! I signed up for beta two years ago, and I didn’t get so much as an email. What the hell?”

“Now look who’s at half-mast. Nerd.”

I glowered at her.

She chuckled. “You know Takemoto. He’s been waiting to drop this one for what… six years? Why send out an email blast when you can create an organic shit storm? Still don’t know how you missed it.”

I knew.

Like a good corporate slave, I’d been in Do Not Disturb mode until ten minutes before because the boss sprung another presentation on me at way past the last minute. Not that I’d get any credit for impressing the big wigs. Such is the life of the group lead. Shit flowed downhill, but somehow it always pooled at my feet.

I leaned down for a closer view. “Damn.”

“Stop drooling on my chair.”

“Bite me.”

“Pass. Hey. Guy with the sword is kind of cute.”

I didn’t dignify. “When’s it coming out?”

“That’s the best part. Three days.”

My spine straightened. “Three days? How’d they keep that under wraps?”

She pressed her index fingers to her temples then squeezed her eyes shut. Her voice took on a mystical quality. “I sense you reordering your workout schedule.”

“It doesn’t take a psychic to figure that out.”

“If you think the game looks amazing, wait until you get a load of that guy’s story.” She tapped the face of the man on screen. “Talk about burying the lede. The game is just the beginning.”

“Hey. How did he get early access? No way he’s level one, either. What, is he one of the Infinity Designs developers? Seems kind of young for the honor of first dibs. Usually some forty-something development lead gets that gig.”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'm sending you a link to the article. Read at your desk.”

“You’re such a tease.” I flicked a hand at the wrist. “I’m just avoiding the walk back.”

“If they flash so much as one errant glance in your direction, ping me.”

“Right. Like that won’t garner more ire. Hard pass.”

“Think about it. Could be fun.” She winked.

“For you, maybe. But I’m their lead, and I’ll have to deal with their mutterings as I walk by.”

“As if you don’t, anyway.”

I stood outside her office for a minute, psyching myself up for the journey through the Treacherous Aisle of Douchebaggery. My head involuntarily twitched left toward the boss’s office.

Carol responded as if she’d read my mind. “He’s probably watching it, too. His nerd level is second only to the runts.”

Ray Jenkins. Operations manager in the Sacramento office. Loose with the guys, but when it came to the women in the outfit, disrespectful was an understatement. Sure, he knew better than to screw with Carol in HR, but he’d made several inappropriate comments to me in the three years since he’d strutted through the doors. More notably, he’d let slip on more than one occasion things he couldn’t know without the ability to read my emails.

But as the lone female in a department of meatheads, I had to work twice as hard for half the credit. I couldn't afford to say no. Jenkins was just one of those bosses. He hired guys straight out of college, worked them to death, then turned over fifteen-percent of the staff annually. I was the only woman who’d stuck, mainly because I was there first. His fresh crop of D-bags had held on a little longer than average, but that was mostly because I ended up fixing their mistakes and burning the midnight oil at the boss’s whim while they traipsed out early to go home and game until the wee hours.

Murmurings in the cubicles between my office and Carol’s rang out at the same careless, mindless levels as usual, but that morning the words floated on an air of excitement instead of the usual antagonism. My second passing came with a new knowledge as to why. Instead of bikini-clad boob monsters on the fishing boat videos they drooled over, the vivid oranges of lava pools glowed off their faces.

Trip Hopkins’s desk served as Trash Talk Central, where they spewed indecencies about me when they thought I couldn’t hear, but my internal radar born of three years suffering those dopes wasn’t registering any pings. Even if I could make their lives hell, it would mean adding their workloads to my own until replacements could be located after they were rightly removed.

One of the guys caught my eye as I passed, then stepped in front of the monitor like he presumed I gave a rat’s ass. Kip. A real Neanderthal. If some woman stricken with poor enough intuition let him close enough, he’d probably drool in bed.

Cretin.

Although talking to those guys was like begging for harassment, they’d already seen me.

“Hey, it’s Red.” His tone dropped about three pitches too low, as if I’d find that intimidating. “You run out of flannel?”

I almost scoffed but thought better of it. Responses just broke their boredom, drew their attention. Inflamed their amygdalas. Alternatively, reporting them to Human Resources would alienate them more. And when Ray bailed them out in the aftermath with a slap on the wrist and a quiet pat on the backside, I’d deal with the repercussions.

Besides, I already worked all the time, and it wasn’t like I could surf job boards with my workstation under constant monitoring.

Exhausting pricks.

Horner’s head swiveled with me as I passed, but I ignored their mutterings as I marched up the hall to my office.

A satisfying slam of the door cut off their chuckling. My office could’ve doubled as a storage closet, but the barrier kept me isolated from Tweedle Three, allowing me to work while they goofed off.

Thankfully, I still had a half cup of coffee sitting near the corner of my desk. A much-needed pick-me-up. It was cold, but I didn’t care for another journey to the break room—and back—just to warm it.

Sipping the bitter sludge, I donned my Smart Glasses to scroll my messages. A bolded header announced the arrival of the promised link from Carol. Having already accomplished as much work that morning as the douchebags could manage in a day, I held no reservations about reading whatever she found special about Gemini Fowler. Until I saw the title.

Terminally-ill Gamer’s Consciousness Transferred into Virtual Game World Signals the Dawning of a New Age in Quantum Computing

I spewed cold coffee.

* * *

Consciousness transfer? How the hell did that work? It was like something out of a sci-fi flick. I soaked up the features of this Gemini Fowler guy in the article photo. Chocolate brown curly hair, broad shoulders. I wagered Quantum Times never imagined they’d post an article featuring a guy wearing studded leather armor and clutching a bow.

No matter how I searched the web, I couldn’t isolate any info on whether he’d looked like that before his transfer.

Transfer. Like it’s so casual. How in the hell did they do this?

According to the article, he’d been dying of Lubrin’s, an autoimmune disease that first surfaced in Ukraine and Russia. All indications being it was a nasty way to go.

Who would want to live in a game world professing this level of reality?

When I considered life with the D-bags, maybe it wasn’t such a stretch. As I read on, I learned Infinity Designs was developing earth-like worlds where they’d deposit terminally ill and elderly folks so they could work, play, and whatever else they did in the outside world.

In contradiction to my earlier thought, that sounded boring. Why would anyone want to go on living forever in a place like my office? But a game world without all the technology crutches that’d lowered the IQs of millions? And one with no level caps, at that?

A glance through my window at the aisle of antagonists left me wishing I was terminally ill. I’d never say that to Carol. She’d call up the paddy wagons.

“A pod will do nicely,” I muttered to the empty space.

An alert popped in the corner of my Smart Glasses signaling the arrival of a new article on the Infinity Designs site. I snagged it for my feed before the masses could crash the server.

I muttered as I read. “The AI enforces a 50% pain mitigation threshold in all user pods. That’s new. They’ll recommend 85% at launch. Damn, what kind of game is this? Can’t they just control the shock levels or something?”

Then I landed on the line that would have dweebs everywhere convulsing with orgasmic delight.

Enora Online will be the first game in history designed to use the player’s own brain chemistry and synaptic structure to create sensations identical to those in the outside world.

“Horse shit!” I bellowed.

And, of course, that’s when Carol popped her head into my office. She tapped her knuckles on the door as if I hadn’t already spotted her.

“Knock-knock. What are you doing after work tomorrow?”

There was no way she’d ignore the outburst, so I concluded the walls of my closet office had absorbed it. I checked my calendar because I scheduled everything. “Hitting the climbing wall. Why?”

“I don’t know. You seem… stressed out. I thought maybe we should do something fun.” Maybe she’d registered the outburst after all.

“Climbing’s great to blow off steam. Besides, I have to stay in shape if I want to see fifty.” I tapped the left side of my chest with two fingers. “The things people take for granted, right?” I waved a dismissive hand. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

“Um, I just thought maybe you’d want to hang out.”

“Oh!” Carol and I worked together for years, but she’d never suggested we do anything together outside the slave pens. We always got along, but I assumed she liked to keep work and personal lives separate.

Besides, my lifestyle annihilated what friendships lingered after college. The job. The gaming. My relentless workout routines and rigid conformity to the daily chore wheel on the fridge display. Even in Light of Babylon, I was no social butterfly. I came, I saw, I kicked ass, I looted, I made tracks.

After a moment of deliberation, Carol waved one hand. “Hey, just an idea. Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

She started to leave, but before she closed the door, I shouted, “Wait!”

Carol stopped, then cocked an eyebrow.

I guessed I’d been a little loud… this time, with the door open. “Let’s do it. You ever tried climbing?”

She looked up at me with an expression of deep concern. “Maybe a little. I have a fitness cartridge for my pod. All kinds of activities.”

Sounds like my worst nightmare.

Carol was in for a rude awakening if she thought a climbing wall was the same as a pod routine. This I had to see. “Yeah. We could do that. Do you know Sheer’s Gym?”

“I know where it is.”

“I usually go straight from here. Might want to pack a gym bag with some clothes that won’t encumber.”

“Fun.” Carol looked genuinely excited.

I spied the D-bags over her shoulder. A sudden lust for revenge warmed my face.

Carol screwed up her features. “Why are you red?”

A direct answer implying revenge against the dudes who made my daily life miserable wouldn’t be couth, so I took the verbal beltway. “Is it too late to put in for some personal time in a couple days?”

Carol was anything but slow. Her expression flattened, then stretched into a wicked smile. She leaned forward and whispered. “None of them has thought to put in for it yet.”

I returned the grin. “They aren’t exactly forward-thinking. A hundred bucks says they’ll just call out.”

“Ray will call them in.”

“Good. How do we keep him from calling me?”

“Kyra who?” She grinned. “Oh, and maybe I’ll throw in a little she had lady things to take care of for good measure. He’ll probably sprint from my office.” One finger bounced in my general direction. “You’re sneaky. Maybe it’s you I should keep my eye on.”

I raised one shoulder in a lazy half-shrug.

She closed the door, then I kicked back in my squeaky chair.

A new game launch and a non-work outing with Carol in the same week? Life was getting interesting.

2

“Hey! You came.”

She checked her watch, then cast me a suspicious glance. “I’m only three minutes late. Tell me you’re not one of those, Kyra.”

Maybe I was. Probably should have given her the benefit of the doubt—I’d even caught her looking up rock climbing gloves later in the day. But neglecting every friend until they disappeared left a woman skeptical.

Carol threw an arm around me. “I’m screwing with you. Come on.” She dropped her arm then bounced on the balls of her feet a few times before heading for the rentals desk.

“You’ve never done the real thing before?”

“Is a wall with little plastic hand holds what passes for the real thing?” She smirked.

“I’ve done the real thing, too.”

“With those arms, I’m not surprised. Real rocks?”

I nodded. “When others went to Fort Lauderdale for Spring Break my junior year, I climbed Zodiac.”

“Zodiac? Wasn’t he a serial killer?”

I chuckled. “Southeast side of El Capitan. Yosemite.”

She twisted at the hips and clutched them. “Yosemite? I didn’t know you were that psycho.”

I grinned, then my face went slack. I slapped her shoulder. “Hey, what do you mean, that psycho?”

“Kidding. I guess you have to work yourself up to a climb like that. I could never.”

“Just sims, then?”

“Yup. My little brother and his wife have pods, too. I do it with them sometimes. It’s easier. Harnesses automatically fit. Only an infinitesimal chance of death.” She plopped onto a bench and tugged at footwear. “Plus, the shoes are actually comfortable.”

I nodded. “Yeah, and they don't smell like some stranger’s nasty feet.”

“And hanging out with them in a virtual landscape keeps them out of my apartment.”

I suspected Carol was a kindred spirit. An antisocial, like me.

“Why don’t you do it online?”

I shrugged. “Besides LOB, what am I going to spend my money on? My shoes are the best.”

That was partially true. The main reason was vanity. My body was the one thing in my life I could control. Just because I would never let the douchebags at work see me in a skirt—or anything form-fitting—didn't mean I couldn’t draw a certain satisfaction from knowing I could run circles around them.

Not that “pod bods” were all flab. Technology had come a long way since the first-gen. The average gamer wasn’t going to win any bodybuilding contests, but active muscle stimulation built into most pods made sure no one wasted away… or inflated to where they couldn’t fit inside one anymore.

But I also chose the real thing for a reason I didn’t advertise. Aside from Carol, few knew about the bum ticker I’d been diagnosed with as a child. It was much less likely to kill me with regular cardio. I’d stayed active to escape the looming existential dread when the denials of youth wore off.

The left side of the gym called to me, where the managers switched it up and added kinks twice a week to keep it fresh. The right-hand side was the noob zone. Beginners walls. Thicker footings. The inside was set up like a caving simulation, not especially challenging. But I figured Carol might prefer to start simple.

“You wanna go there?” She asked, pointing to one of the easy sections with auto-belayers, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone else on that wall was under twelve. Maybe she didn't share my ego or care how silly she might look. The sentiment was kind of adorable, but totally alien to me.

One of her perfectly-trimmed eyebrows arched. “No?”

“I guess.” I forced a smile.

“What about that one?” She pointed a long finger.

“Oh. The black diamond. That’ll do.”

“Cool.” She scurried over to the most difficult wall section on that side of Sheers without skipping a beat.

I hooked her into the belaying rig, then secured myself alongside her. “You sure about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” She scanned the wall above with an unbridled enthusiasm I admired.

I wasn’t sure she’d reach the top. But what the hell.

Let’s see what she’s made of.

“If I get hurt, I want one of your PTO days.”

It was my turn to cock an eyebrow.

Carol smirked. “What? The Type-A who never called out in her life is afraid she’ll run low? It’s not like you use them. Even if they are stingy with the time off, you’ve banked enough to take a world cruise.”

“Right.” Warmth filled my cheeks.

I clutched the first handhold, set the edge of one foot, then scurried up. But I hadn’t even ascended ten feet when my quads started to burn. My stomach clenched for a flash. When it relaxed, I reached for the next hold. Tightness gripped my chest. I stopped, drew a few deep breaths just for reassurance, then continued.

Anxiety.

By the time Carol climbed alongside me, the invisible fingers clutching my heart retracted.

She didn’t seem to have noticed. “This is harder in real life. I see why you like it.”

“Just wait till you build callouses and aching muscles.”

Carol laughed.

“Are we really allowed to donate PTO days?”

She nodded. “I’m proud of that little initiative. Got it passed up the chain, myself. When Janie got sick two years ago, I didn’t want the fact she was out of PTO to bankrupt her. She has two kids at home, you know?”

“I had no idea you’d implemented that. Tell you what: beat me to the top and you can have one of mine.”

“Like that’s even a risk for you.” A sly grin curved her lips, and she bolted, her rapid grasps and quick feet catching me off guard.

I set my jaw, took a quick scan of the holds above, then launched. Although my gaze locked in on the task at hand, my inner demons taunted.

Don’t slip. Watch those holds. Beware your sweaty hands.

Despite the running monologue of doubt, I burned with the desire to reach the top, and within moments, we climbed side-by-side. “It’s not happening.”

Carol grunted with effort. Her foot slipped, then she pressed her chest to the wall. “Oh, you’re one of those then.”

“Damn right.”

As she regained her composure, I pressed the advantage of experience. A moment later, I reached up and rang the bell.

“Cheater.” Carol chuckled.

“I’m the cheater? You’re the one who took off without warning. But hey, you did better than I expected. The pod climbs must be pretty genuine.”

“They’re not. I spent the whole ascent certain I’d be swinging from my rig any second.”

We descended, unclipped, then I crossed to the bench while Carol grabbed a couple of bottled waters from a machine.

She plopped down beside me and dangled one between two fingers. “Did you hear the guys at work slavering over this Gemini guy?”

“No.” I sipped the water. “What about him?”

“They’re already trying to figure out what continent he's on. They want to hunt him down and gang up on him.”

“What is it with the culture in that place? That’s the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”

“Shit rolls downhill. If the boss doesn’t enforce standards, there are none.”

“Well, nobody's going to gank Fowler after a head start like that. Those swords were beast.”

“Not to mention he had—what? Ten people with him?” Carol formed a claw with one hand then wiggled the fingers as she drew it across her body. “Not to mention a spider. A Wolf.”

“Idiots. I hope they do find him.”

“You know you can’t say things like that to me. I’m HR.”

“I’m so scared.”

“You don’t strike me as the fearful type. Especially if you’re climbing Yosemite. Knowing how analytical you are, you probably know more about Gemini than I do. I bet you couldn’t get a bit of work done after I left your office.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Takemoto did send out an update a while ago. Infinity scrubbed most of his personal data from the public record. The message boards are alight with chatter. Influencers are already editing video to fill our lives with conjecture.”

“I’m sure Infinity has the streaming rights, anyway. They’ll get taken down.”

I nodded. “Probably. Even if they isolate Fowler’s location, anyone who tries to get to him for interviews is going to be in for a rude awakening.”

“Why?”

“They’ve blocked all the spawn points where he is. For now, his continent is off limits.”

“That must be nice. An entire continent for your sandbox.”

“As the first Guinea pig to transfer his consciousness inside, they ought to make him a king or something. God, Takemoto is a genius when it comes to pushing people's buttons. Millions and millions of people are going to want to play this game. Maybe a billion.”

“Gee, you think?”

I didn't need to think about it. That video would change everything. Hell, I found myself considering how cool it might be to live like this Gemini guy. Quest all day. Bag some sick loot. Choose when to advance, when to craft.

Damn, I’ll bet the crafting in that game is amazing.

Light of Babylon was already so popular that an industry had exploded around trading in-game real estate, farming and selling rare magical items, and myriad other creative ways to make a living in the real world. Enora would blow it all up.

Carol dragged me from my inner monologue. “Race again?”

“Sure.” I wagged a finger. “No more tricks.”

“Agreed. No tricks.” She twisted the finger on one hand with the other. “Thanks for including me. This is fun.”

A smile crept across my face. “Yeah, it is.”

“You didn’t invite anyone else from work did you?” Carol pointed back toward the rental desk. I glared in that direction. The man at the desk was reaching for a harness for a little girl and her mother. When I turned to shoot her a confused expression, she was gone.

“Oh, no you don’t.” By the time I hustled to the wall she’d already snapped her harness to the line and mounted.

Conclusion: Carol shared my competitive streak.

One lunge after another, I threw caution to the ether and skipped handholds wherever I could. With the auto belays, I might get a little bruised if I slipped, but I couldn’t have the middle-aged HR rep thinking I was soft.

A minute later, I was even with her.

She grinned like a fox.

I returned the smile then raised my foot to the next hold. My breath hitched. The skeleton hands I imagined each time my chest tightened clutched good and hard.

“Shit—” One foot slid off of the wall. My lungs heaved for breath.

Carol dropped back and lowered herself on her line. An instant later she was beside me.

“Here.” She planted both feet on the wall. “Grab onto me.” Carol slid an arm around my waist then we drifted down to the mat. Once there, she unclipped me and released the lanyard. Despite the pain, I mused at how someone would have to climb up and get it later.

The guy from the counter hustled over. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The word came forced, but my breaths deepened as the tension lifted. “It’s leveling out.”

“Your heart?” Carol whispered.

I nodded.

“You sure you’re okay?” the attendant asked, having missed Carol’s whisper.

“Yes. All good now.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t let you back onto the wall today.”

Carol frowned. “Hey, if she couldn’t climb, she wouldn’t.”

“Not today. Sorry, Kyra, but you have to understand. My boss would kill me if something happened.”

“I get it, Mike. We’re done.”

I sat against one of the benches then grasped my water. A tight, anxious feeling in my chest lingered.

3

Shipping charges for the new immersion pods included installation, but I’d gotten a call from the boss the morning mine arrived. Clean up duty because one of our inadequate goons dropped the ball.

By the time I made it home, the pod sat in the hallway outside my apartment. Like a baby grand piano without wheels, barely narrow enough to fit through the doorway. If I could have moved it. Which I couldn’t.

After a strained back and a flurry of utterances that would’ve made a sailor blush, I finally gave up and called the landlord for help. He was none too pleased about the grooves I’d cut into the floor trying to drag the monstrosity, but they doubled as motivation for him to assist.

The timing couldn’t have been better. With Enora so close, my old pod would’ve needed upgrades to accommodate the brand spanking new neural stimulation components required to get the full effect of the virtual world. The new one sat in the footprint of the old, casting the purple hue of the optional backlighting.

Some might have thought it sad that I thought of my pod and the surrounding room as my sanctuary. But Light of Babylon had been such a big part of my life over the last couple years, especially considering my need for an escape from the daily grind.

If that game served as a kind of second life, I couldn’t imagine what Enora might turn into. I’d let my inner geek shine as I watched the teaser video over and over the past couple days. I zoomed in, searching for the slightest hint of pixelation or any graphical anomaly. The processing power needed to render an environment like that, where everything looked like a 5k cutscene, left me certain I’d find something.

When Enora proved me wrong, I scoured the web in search of anyone who’d found flaws. Still, nothing.

So, I stood, admiring the contraption with the distinct sensation I was about to leave T-LOB behind. If I was right and wasn't going to be logging on again, I would have said goodbye to the few party members I’d found reliable enough to play with on occasion.

It was kind of sad to think about my old character just sitting there, loot from the last raid clogging up her bags and all those hard-won magic items unused. If nothing else, I might have sold some of that stuff off and put the cash into my bank account. At least I’d have something to show for it. Maybe later. Then again, if Enora Online proved half as popular as I thought it would, then items from the old game were going to be worthless in a couple of weeks, anyway.

And I was too jazzed about the new to linger over the old.

The moment I’d gotten home from climbing with Carol, I started cleaning. Most of the time I was either working late or gaming, but if I went to bed with a mess left in the sink, I wouldn’t sleep. My place needed a deeper clean, and there was something about undertaking this new challenge that got my bum burning. I wanted my apartment to shine before I set out.

According to the apartment’s floor plan, my pod sat in a dining room, but it resembled nothing of the kind. Knickknacks and souvenirs lined the bookshelves on either side. A porcelain dragon. A hero in silvery plate. A row of dwarves holding tankards. Elves drawing their bows. The works. I’d even paid an electrician to put in track lighting. I was far too old to be wearing Light of Babylon T-shirts and merchandise, but that didn’t stop me from buying tchotchkes in the game store every time I walked through the mall.

The alert from my watch the night before the launch announced my start time in Enora Online would be 7:45 a.m. Infinity staggered logins under the pretense of keeping the servers humming. Yeah, right. Every bit of anticipation they mustered prior to launch would lead to the kind of enthusiasm that caused waves of jubilation over their game later.

I’d set four alarms and was up by five. By six, I’d eaten breakfast, showered, and dressed. The house shone. All communications with the outside world were muted. I was in zero-tension mode.

Amped. Ready to conquer.

6:45. I swigged from my second cup of coffee. The pod’s vertical door yawned like some futuristic mech ready for combat. Its inner lights pulsed as it warmed up.

Bottle of water in the cupholder. Check.

Bathroom business completed. Check.

The house was eerily quiet.

Maybe I should get a cat.

I glanced at the clock again.

6:46. Time crawled. Half an hour was an eternity.

Damnit.

I brought up the gameplay video I’d watched too many times to count so I could view it through the new neural crown. I still couldn’t find any anomalies.

7:12.

I watched it again but caught myself daydreaming about being there. Wondering what the cavern with squared lava pools felt like. Would the heat prove as genuine as the graphics and the smooth combat motions?

The purple lights lining the edges of my pod’s interior flashed three times. Golden lettering filled my screen with a new alert.

Welcome to Enora Online!

“Yes!”

I flipped down the visor, tapped “Launch,” then the pod went dark.

A few seconds of anticipation seemed like hours. My hands trembled. My heart rate wound up.

The lilac mood lighting vanished, washing the interior in a void of darkness. I sat for thirty seconds without flinching. When my impatience got the better, I fumbled for the controls. But my hand swept only cool air.

I tried to whip my head around in the black gloom, but I might as well have been lounging in a coffin. I wasn’t certain I’d moved at all. When I reached out to open the hatch, the button wasn't there. Panic sluiced through my veins, chilling my blood, raising my pulse.

My left hand pressed against my chest while my right hand groped for the release lever. Instead, I found thick material covering my face. I whisked it away, then squinted against a flood of daylight.

“What the heck?”

I tried to sit up, but my body didn’t respond. My heart battered my ribs like a cage fighter.

More golden lettering appeared, this time less prominent and italicized.

Don’t panic.

Douglas Adams would’ve loved that one.

A voice reinforced the sentiment. “Relax, child.” The owner’s warm breath startled me more than the sudden change of setting. “Use your muscles to move, not your mind.”

I sprang up, only to flop to the ground again when the room spun.

“What the hell is going on?” Wooden branches tied off with vines spun around me, but the motion subsided after a few seconds. When I dared to shift my gaze from the simple roof, I studied the deep wrinkles and sun-darkened skin of a woman kneeling at my side. Depending on whether I scanned her eyes or the flesh, she could have been sixty or six hundred.

Light streamed in through the open door, and a breeze drifted in from outside.

Her eyes. So vivid. So… awake.

The musty smell of the furs piled beneath me mixed with something like pine wafting in the air punched me in the gut. Although scent packs were optional additions to VR pods, they’d proven lame in LOB. So, the idea I smelled anything was amazing. That meant the neural tech was hard at work.

The woman chuckled. “Your brain will adapt to the technology soon. We suppress your physical responsiveness at first so you can acclimate.”

“A cutscene or something to distract us in the meantime would’ve been nice.”

The woman chuckled and set those vivid, intelligent eyes on me. Then she grasped my hand and the pain faded. The sensation of her loose skin reminded me of when I’d held the hand of my great-grandmother long ago, before my life went to shit.

She clutched my biceps with her other hand then pulled me to a sitting position with unexpected strength. “Welcome to Enora.”

Moments later, I was on my feet. The woman turned, then stopped just outside the door to gesture for me to follow. I rubbed a numbness from my arms just to be slapped in the mind again by the realism of the sensations. While one might have sensed things in T-LOB, players couldn't really feel them because it was more of an empty pressure caused by electrical impulses.

“I can't feel the pod at all.”

The woman nodded.

“No, you don’t understand. I can't feel my actual body. What if a spider crawls in my mouth or something?”

“Rest assured, your wellbeing is monitored. There are safeguards in place. Should your body require nutrients or sleep, you’ll be alerted. Now, come.”

I approached her. “It's not always like this, is it?”

“Only the first time. But there is resurrection sickness, should you fall in combat after level 10.” She turned, then began walking.

I followed her into the light.

The bark-shingled hut stood alone in a small forest clearing and was sheltered by a few tall pines.

A stream cut through the middle of the scene, feeding lush meadow grass. Tiny butterflies fluttered in the warm sunshine in stark contrast to an ominous darkness of a surrounding forest. A cool breeze prickled at the tiny hairs on my arms. A shiver of anticipation rushed through my torso.

This might be my new happy place.

I turned in a circle, scanning the environment. “It’s… I don’t know what to say.” It was nothing like I’d imagined. Even the high-def video hadn’t done it justice. “It’s beautiful here.”

“You’ve seen nothing, Kyra Bishop.” The woman flipped a hand at the wrist, and the humanity of the gesture wasn’t lost on me. “Grand places fill Enora.”

She extended one finger, then a butterfly touched down. Its wings fluttered before it launched into the air again.

“Nice touch.” I smiled. “Very Disney.”

The old woman pushed on. “Blink your right eye then your left.”

I did as ordered. A golden dot appeared in the top center of my field of vision then formed a line streaming in both directions until it’d painted a frame. Text filled a smaller square forming in the center. I was struck by a ping of familiarity.

“This looks like a refined version of the framing used in the latest LOB patch.”

“Yes, it was assumed many Light of Babylon players would find their way here eventually. Why not acclimate them before they transition?” She didn’t give me long to ponder it. “Now, focus.”

The words hovering in my field of vision blurred then went transparent as I peered past them at the forest glade. When I focused on the text, it solidified again.

Please state or spell your chosen name.

I turned to the woman.

“Is Kyra taken?” I’d probably have to add numbers or symbols, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“There’s one way to find out.” She flicked her finger in a circle to trace my face.

I focused on my name in the translucent frame.

Please state or spell your chosen name.

Kyra

This name is available!

Do you wish to name your character Kyra?

With a thought, I affirmed the choice.

Please speak your name for phonetic recognition.

“Kyra.”

Hello, Kyra, do you wish to use a surname?

“Bishop.”

I wasn’t sure I cared to give out my last name. But empty boxes perturbed me. I looked back to the old woman to find her grinning again.

“Interesting. You use your name instead of a handle.”

“So?”

She only nodded and chuckled to herself. “I’m used to a more egotistical approach. Humans, you know.”

“That’s kind of insulting.”

“It’s not my intent. For your edification, fewer than one half of one percent use their real names.”

“Well, I like my name. It’s not like it’s Jane or something.”

I hadn’t meant to snap at the old lady. But I had taken a lot of shit for the lack of creativity in my LOB handle. Every other combination I’d tried had been taken, so I’d been stuck with Kyra123.

Sore subject.

“Enora will take you exactly as you are, although you might take a softer tone if you wish to gain NPC allies.” She stepped in front of me and raised a hand in the air. A small, gold-colored window popped up just above her shoulder. A column of words filled first the left-hand side, next a row of blank boxes, then the right.

“Apologies. Thanks for the tip.”

Why the hell am I apologizing to an NPC?

“Do you desire the advanced introduction or the basic?”

“Can we start with basic and change if it proves too simple?”

“Yes.” She pointed a crooked finger beside the words in my interface. “These are your attribute scores. A die roll will determine the number of points you receive.” The words in the left-hand column flashed as her finger pointed at each. “Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Constitution, and Charisma.”

I nodded along. Where I might once have skipped the tutorial, I was captive to the whole scene, and it took every ounce of focus not to jump out of my sandals with excitement.

“You’re not focused.”

“Wait. How the hell do you know that?”

She tsked, then her head swiveled in a disapproving gesture. “We’re schooled in reading thousands of human expressions.”

“It’s just weird. I’ve never seen the likes of you.”

The woman nodded. “I’ve practiced. Besides, in Enora, I’m as genuine as you.” With that, she reached over and gave my arm a pinch. I yanked it away out of instinct.

Holy shit.

“Ouch.”

She ignored the complaint. “Now, as you choose where to spend your attribute points, there are things that you should understand. First, you will not have access to the Player’s Manual until you’ve reached level 10. In Enora, experience is the greatest teacher.”

“Okay.”

Screw that. I would be popping open a browser on the regular to see if anyone who’d reached level 10 had posted a game guide. I knew playing by the numbers made games less fun, but I’d wasted enough time on useless character builds in the past, and I hated going in blind.

The AI woman continued. “However, you’ll find classes in Enora to be both intuitive and forgiving—even if the environment is less so. Once you’ve familiarized yourself with the content, your interface will respond to your thoughts. Through trial and error, it’s possible to discover agnostic abilities.”

My head craned back. “Agnostic?”

She nodded. “Classless. There are abilities in Enora that are shared by all, but they must be discovered in the first ten levels.”

“Holy shit.”

She ignored my profanity. “Until you discover and select a class, you’ll receive two Constitution points per level. After selecting a class, you will receive one Constitution point per level and one point in the attribute that best benefits that class. Elective attribute points will also be made available as you increase in rank.

“Starting players cannot choose a class until they’ve equipped an appropriate weapon. The starter weapon I’ll provide you does not activate a class, but you’ll be prompted when you equip an eligible implement. Unlike NPCs in Enora, you may switch classes at any time, and you’ll discover more by equipping various weapon types.”

“How many classes are there?”

She clicked her tongue. “Too many to name here. There’s much you’ll have to discover on your own, and your Player’s Manual will fill in the blanks upon attainment of your tenth level, even if it never answers all your questions. Shall I continue?”

“I took time off for this. Let’s speed it up so I can get to killing.”

“Very well. Since you mentioned time, you should know it passes at a faster rate in Enora. For each day spent here, only eight hours will have passed in your world.”

“Excuse me? Are you talking sun cycles?” I looked up at the bright giant star overhead.

“I refer to time as you experience it. The same technology that allows Enora Online to touch your senses also allows the manipulation of the speed at which you experience the world.”

“That’s…”

“Remarkable?”

“That’s a full day every night after work. That doesn’t cause neurological impact? Brain damage?”

She laughed a single syllable, and I got the impression she grew a little less patient with each of my stupid questions. After all, would they release the game if it caused brain damage?

That the thought occurred at all was a testament to her genuineness.

“If it eases your mind, compare the real world to Enoran time using the clocks in the lower right corner of your interface.”

I banked the idea for later. “Fair enough.”

“The discomfort you experienced upon entering Enora won’t occur in subsequent visits. However, should you fall in battle, you will experience a period of resurrection sickness. While initially mild, these periods will increase in duration and intensity until they reset after a given number of deaths. This penalty was determined to be a useful incentive for players to take defeat in Enora more seriously. Though it can be quite debilitating, you may choose to log out while you wait for it to pass.”

“Sounds like network traffic control, to me.” When she didn’t respond, I moved on. “The sickness keeps escalating? Does it ever recede?”

“Would you behave differently if it did?”

“I guess that’s an answer.”

She nodded, then continued. “Here’s another very important consideration. Should you fall in battle before reaching level 10, you must roll a new character.”

Ouch.

That was good motivation not to die. At the same time, I loved the challenge.

“Should you meet an early demise, you may choose a new race and a new starting location.”

“Is that everything?” I was starting to get antsy.

Why do I have the feeling this whole day is going to be one long, non-skippable tutorial?

“We’re almost finished. My time here draws short, but you may remain as long as you’d like to prepare yourself. Proceed with caution, Kyra. These first ten levels will prove most challenging. In addition to the environmental challenges and rendered enemies, player versus player combat is not only permitted, but rewarded with bonus experience points. And if you die in open-world PVP, you will suffer resurrection sickness.”

Damn, it’s all hardcore.

“Now I must ask you to sign the player’s agreement.” A new block of text materialized. I skimmed it. A flashing red header emphasized a paragraph about the intrusive nature of immersion pod technologies on the human brain. The potential for in-game trauma. But we’d covered it. I expected they’d worked the kinks out and I wasn’t going to end up drooling in a hospital bed.

I focused on the appropriate line and, with a directed thought, my signature scrawled across the bottom in cursive. The text flashed briefly in gold then faded.

My hostess gave a quick nod. “Very good. Now hold out your hand.”

“Wait, you said I can choose a race.”

“You may. First, we’ll discuss your inventory.”

“And if I don’t die, then I’m stuck with whatever race I’m playing when I reach level 10?”

“Even if you do fall, this is true. You will have the option to choose a new race, but once you reach level 10, you will be stuck, as you put it.”

“I guess I’ll stick with human for now.”

“Would you like to start with the emulation of your real-world appearance and mold it from there?”

My jaw dropped when the Character Tab popped open and revealed the representation of my features. It was head-to-toe insane. Then I tipped my head to one side. “Are my quads bigger?”

I bent my elbow then scanned the length of my arm.

This is more like my college lacrosse body.

“While appearance has little bearing upon in-game performance, players are encouraged to take a form in which they feel most comfortable. The system automatically chooses your optimal form.”

“Leave it. Let’s talk inventory.”

“Indeed. Perhaps now you’ll hold out your hand.”

Although I sensed no irritation in her voice, the words were clear enough.

Reaching into her robes, she withdrew a small leather satchel—a belt pouch.

I lifted the lid then peered inside. I counted seven pockets surrounding a wider compartment. Their insides were black voids with silvery, spiraling motes. A queasy feeling washed over my gut, so I closed it.

“How do I equip it?” I reconsidered and waved a dismissive hand. “Wait. Hold on.” The plain, brown clothing that I’d woken with included a simple belt, which I untied then slipped through the loops of the pouch.

“Now, think ‘inventory.’”

When the word passed through my mind, a gold-framed interface sprang into existence.

The bag tied to my image’s hip glowed.

Belt Pouch

Eight-slot bag

Type: Container

Slot: Bag 1

Quality: Common

Durability: 20 of 20

Eight empty squares aligned beneath the heading. The leathery texture in the background was a dead-ringer for the actual view inside the bag on my hip.

I focused on the woman, not quite sure what it was I wanted to ask next. She met my gaze, as if she could sense the wheels turning in my head, then simply cocked an eyebrow and waited.

“To access your items, focus on the slot from which you wish to retrieve one, or hold the item you want to store and do the same. With practice and a little imagination, you’ll be able to summon contents without viewing them first.” My inventory pane closed on its own, then her finger twitched to indicate an open area at the top of my interface.

A red bar jostled with liquid until it filled.

“Health is your life’s blood in Enora. If you choose a magic class, Mana will fuel your casting.” A yellow bar appeared. “Stamina determines how much physical exertion you can tolerate before you must rest. Mind these resources, and be aware of your limits.”

She stepped toward the stream in the middle of the forest glade. “You may keep aspects of your interface visible as you adventure or dismiss them with a thought.” With the way they blurred then disappeared the harder my focus turned to the outside world, I doubted I’d ever have to tune them out. The ingenuity of the design bordered on the miraculous.

Or fucking witchcraft.

The woman brought her hands together between the two of us, and a flashing golden button appeared in the center of my vision.

“Let’s assign your starter weapon. Focus on the glowing button.”

When I did, the button expanded into a small window. A series of images scrolled like the wheels of a slot machine. A spear, a rusty sword, an oddly-shaped hatchet. A pair of nunchaku flashed by, and my eyes widened. I’d studied Tae Kwon Do long enough to get my blackbelt and chose them for my weapons. I only practiced with them for a few months, but I would have loved to crack some skulls with a pair of those puppies.

But they were gone as fast as they’d appeared. The air above her hands shimmered with the same golden light then took on a solid form. A few more weapons scrolled past: a big knife, a mallet, brass knuckles with short spikes.

My heart pounded with excitement as the scrolling slowed.

C’mon nunchucks. Please, nunchucks.

The nunchaku rolled into view and my heart skipped a beat. I clenched my fists in anticipation. But the image rolled over one more time, to reveal…

A stick?

The—stick—materialized in the air above the woman’s hands and settled gently in her open palms.

“Your first weapon in the world of Enora.”

“Um, wow. How ever shall I repay you?”

“May this bo staff serve you well, Kyra Bishop, and the Light of Solara shine upon you.” When I didn’t reach for it, she shoved it against my chest.

I snatched it then lent it the sourest expression I could muster.

“Thanks.”

For the fucking stick.

I eyed the grain wrapping around a couple knots and along its length.

Missing Monk’s Bo staff

Level 1

Type: Two-handed staff

Slot: Weapon

Quality: Poor

Durability: 10 of 10

Physical Damage: 3-4

Too bad starter weapons didn’t give me the option to select a class. A bo staff might give me access to some kind of martial arts discipline or a healer class—which had worked well for me in Light of Babylon.

I scanned the avatar on the left side of my interface. The staff was more like a crooked old walking stick than a weapon. I willed the window closed then repeated the effort to vanquish the sight of my empty inventory. The lone remnants were my resource bars.

“Thanks for the stick.”

The woman declined her head so she missed my rolling eyes.

But she hadn’t missed my intent. “May your sarcasm serve you for as long as your starter weapon. A note of caution, Kyra.” She paused.

“I’m all ears.”

“NPCs in this world are like none you’ve experienced, and they will read your intent according to their social conventions like any human in your world would.”

I was returning her bow when she gripped my forearm and delivered a tight squeeze. I cringed.

“A final word. You’ll find the setting for pain mitigation in the Options Tab at the top of your interface. We recommend you set it before heading out. We suggest starting around ninety percent then ticking it down to accommodate the challenge level you desire. There are a great many pincers in Enora, and few with restraint such as mine.” She pulled open the door.

“Is that it?” I asked as she shuffled away.

She stopped and looked back. “It is. I wish you luck… with your stick.”

A twinge of guilt washed over me. I’d been kind of an ass, but why in the world would I feel any emotion as it applied to an NPC? Although one side of my brain considered it stupid to give it a second thought, the other tweaked at my sense of propriety.

A little roleplay never killed anyone, so what the hell? “Thank you, um, I didn’t catch your name.”

“You may call me Lucera.”

4

A nagging suspicion I was going to get shredded the minute I stepped into the dark shadows beneath the forest canopy annihilated the surge of enthusiasm of moments earlier. How might I face the challenges of the most realistic virtual game world ever created?

With a stick.

I dropped down on the soft grass. The air was cool, but my skin was baking in the sun. The brook babbled. Crickets chirped. I swore I could hear something monstrous and terrible creeping around those trees, like the wendigos in Light of Babylon. My imagination ran wild looking at the shaded woods across the stream.

Although the NPC gave me the rundown on the basics, the whole existence in this place seemed foreign. It would be just like Infinity Designs to create a place where I’d step across the threshold and be eviscerated. I found the pain mitigation setting Lucera mentioned preset to fifty percent. She encouraged a ninety percent threshold, but following her advice meant I’d never learn anything. Pain was a great teacher, and some sadistic part of me longed to see just how real this simulation was. Besides, she’d said I could always adjust it later.

Which would be a cop out.

My ego fired on all cylinders. No way was I reducing the pain levels.

So I turned my attention to attributes. I focused on my Character tab then another gold-rimmed window opened in front of me.

Kyra Bishop

Human

Level 1 (No Class Selected)

Attributes:

Strength: 1

Dexterity: 1

Intelligence: 1

Wisdom: 1

Constitution: 1

Charisma: 1

Combat Skills:

None Discovered

Defensive Skills:

None Discovered

Weapon Skills:

None Discovered

Magic Schools:

Light Magic: 0

Shadow Magic: 0

Nature Magic: 0

Status Effects:

None

Affinities:

Set upon discovery

Languages:

All Neutral and Lawful

Applicable languages are learned upon being heard.

Learned Languages:

Common

Magic Affinity: 100%

The flood of information proved a little perplexing. In LOB, NPCs spoke in the languages of the players they addressed. The only games I’d seen that involved language familiarity were tabletop roleplaying adventures. And who had time for that?

Leaves rustled as the breeze picked up in the surrounding forest. A bird whistled. I’d already started ignoring the scents, sights, and sound while I pondered existential questions. Like stats. Attributes. Pain mitigation. Language.

Jesus.

I scanned the sheet again. So many zeroes. And since every game was different, there was so much to learn, and I’d need to stay ahead of the next round of players who’d receive login tokens. First, I needed to surmise the best way to distribute the attribute points.

A gold button flashed to the right of the panel. When I focused there, it expanded into another window.

It just reacted to my thoughts, like she said it would.

I hadn’t believed her. That was the lone explanation for the surprise. My reaction was a cross between giddy nerd excitement and awe. Physical. Emotional. The whole bag.

When I focused on the button, a die appeared in lieu of a slot machine wheel. It rattled across the window, bounced off the left side of my HUD, then rolled to the center where it stopped. It swelled as if it were zooming toward me, then golden light accentuated the number ‘3’ on its face.

The window’s frame faded, then golden plus signs appeared to the right of each attribute. A new line appeared below.

You have 3 attribute points to spend.

When I focused on each attribute, a speaker-shaped icon appeared. When I focused there, Lucera’s voice spoke.

“Strength represents the maximum weight you can carry and damage inflicted during melee combat. Strength also determines damage mitigated when blocking with a shield. Strength has no impact on ranged weapon use.”

I looked around as if I expected Lucera would pop out of nowhere. She didn’t. I focused on the next speaker icon.

“Dexterity determines your chance to dodge attacks, how much damage is inflicted with ranged weapons, and ranged accuracy. Melee damage for classes in certain lines is decided by Dexterity, whereas Strength determines damage inflicted by other melee classes.”

“Intelligence determines the size of your mana pool, the amount of health restored by healing spells, and damage inflicted by magical attacks.”

So, Intelligence would be my primary if I decided to do a healer class. That was pretty standard. If what Lucera said was true—and why wouldn’t it be?—then I’d need to find a real weapon ASAP and select a class so I could pour points into this stat instead of letting the system pump them into Constitution.

“Wisdom replenishes your resource pools. The detail level of your inspection skill is impacted by your character level and the number of points spent on this attribute.”

“Constitution represents the health and stamina of a living or undead being. Hit points increase per point spent on Constitution. Your Stamina pool is also increased by adding points to your Constitution attribute, as is the rate at which you regenerate health.”

“Charisma is one factor in determining how others respond to you. A high Charisma score results in better trade benefits. Players with high charisma might escape dangerous situations or convince people to see from their point of view.”

Charisma might prove useful in the future, when I was dealing with vendors and whatnot, but I cast it off. It was one less thing to focus on. The tabs streaming across the top of the interface proved daunting enough.

Because it determined my resource recovery rate, Wisdom would be my secondary focus if I found a weapon that allowed me to be a caster class. Until then, I’d suffer every added point of Constitution, knowing it could’ve been used for DPS instead of survivability.

All told, three extra points weren't going to get me far. I focused on the ‘+’ beside the intelligence score and dumped all three points into that attribute. It was risky, and I was sure I’d regret it if I ended up with a sword, but I decided to roll the dice.

Excuse the pun.

I chuckled at the humor fail. But time was a-wasting. Forest critters weren't going to slay themselves, and I had a stick that needed a few more dents. After a quick survey of the rest of the tabs, I pushed myself up, grabbed the staff, then drew a deep breath.

Just before tromping off into the shadows of the forest, I recalled the hut. LOB was also loot heavy. Any gamer who hadn’t been into inventory management as a way of in-game life had no business there, so it would be just like Infinity Designs to hide a boon in the very place where I woke.

Never too early to do a little looting.

I slipped back inside the tiny bark hut. Except for the furs, the place seemed empty. I checked for gaps in the walls but found nothing. When I kicked the furs, I found nothing beneath but floor.

A message popped up on the screen.

You have learned a new skill!

Inspect

Your Inspect skill is Rank 1.

+1% chance to discern hidden objects.

My first skill!

A small beetle scurried out from under a small rug then hid beneath a stone in the corner.

I focused on the latter.

Primitive Hide Scraper

Used by tradespeople with the Skinning skill, this tool is used to separate flesh from hides.

Your Inspect skill has reached Rank 2.

+1.5% chance to discern hidden objects.

I turned the scraper over and scanned it, but it proved to be a simple chunk of flint shaped like an axe head. One end had been chipped to form a sharp edge and the other was rounded.

Skinning animals proved an early profession in most games, but in those I hadn’t needed special tools. I’d just touched the corpse and dragged the animal parts into my inventory. Forest animals in Light of Babylon didn’t drop treasure, but I could harvest their parts to sell in towns. I opened my Inventory tab, focused on an empty slot, then the scraper vanished from my hand. A photorealistic image of it appeared in the little box representing a bag slot.

My attempt to repeat the effort with the furs proved fruitless. Whether too big or not intended for use by players I didn’t know. But I had to try, if only to see what an eight-slot capacity really meant.

I left the furs behind and marched into the field. The stream bed was mucky, and I suspected my starter sandals would end up wet and mud-caked.

I decided to go the same direction as Lucera’s butterfly as I faced the shadows of the forest.

Right when I wondered how I’d know that I’d left the starting location, a window popped up and filled with gold script.

You have discovered the Fertile Deadpines.

25 XP

Lush evergreens of this undying forest are a testament to nature’s tenacity. Fertile Deadpines is a narrow corridor within the greater Lauan woodlands.

Let the games begin.

5

Shivers of excitement or trepidation—maybe both—spiraled around my spine and up to the back of my neck when I stepped into the shadows. I raised the Stick to find my hand quaking as if I’d been in the real world and my overactive adrenals were getting the better of me. How was the game emulating these sensations? What in the utter hell had I walked into?

If the biological responses proved consistent, the only way I was going to push through my hesitancy was to bash a few monster skulls. Loose some aggression.

The forest darkened with each step. Tall pines with gray bark in the starting area transitioned to twisted and gnarled trunks sprouting from thorny underbrush. They loomed like zombies.

A few steps in, I threw a glance over one shoulder. The clearing was gone. The bottom dropped out of my stomach. A few beats later, the realism of the sensation smacked me in the forehead, and I became aware of an undertone in my disposition. All the excitement of knowing I’d be logging into Enora for the first time had transitioned to something else. Something… dark. Foreboding.

Yo, It’s a game. Put on your killing face.

I scrunched up my features in a lame effort to coax myself forward, then I turned and spat at the foot of one of the creepy trees just so they knew where we stood. Feeling slightly more myself, more in control, I marched. Or high-stepped, since there was no path.

It wasn’t like I could walk off the map, yet I wondered if a notification might pop warning me to turn back. Was the nearly impassable underbrush an indication I was out of bounds or something?

Dotted among the gnarled oaks were twisted blue fir trees, doubled over like they had scoliosis. Scale fungus sprouted from their trunks, and little clumps of mushrooms and moss hung on their branches.

At least nothing had jumped out at me yet. I double-clutched the stick and kept my head on a swivel as I raised my sandaled feet high and stomped through the underbrush. Within a few steps, the tangled mess of groundcover hid an undergrowth of thorns and pain tore up one leg when I raised my foot. I face planted, dropped the staff, rolled onto my back, then shot into a seated position to scan my surroundings. When I bent my leg to inspect the damage, droplets of blood rolled around my calf then dripped to the ground.

You stepped into it.

-5 HP

The humor was muted by snags of pain pulsing from each hole in my leg.

+1 HP

Aside from a couple beetles and a giant snail the size of a grapefruit, the forest presented little in the way of animal life. The ground was damp but spongy. The snails munched on the mushrooms and lichen stuck to the trees. A light mist hung over everything.

+2 HP

Or maybe it was pollen. At least I wasn’t sneezing. Maybe the game designers were thoughtful enough to leave behind allergies and other bothersome imperfections when the system built my avatar.

It’s a game. Everyone would quit.

That I even considered the possibility there’d be banal environmental irritants paid tribute to the environment. Although my consciousness questioned everything—context was king—part of my brain had moved on. Accepted what was.

That was amazing.

I gazed down at the bloody holes in my leg just as the flesh surrounding the open wounds stitched itself together and a final announcement popped up into the window labeled Combat Log.

+2 HP

Your health has reached 100%

Something rustled overhead, and I scanned the twisted branches of a blackened tree. There was no sign of whatever caused the commotion, but one of the fungus tufts belched a puff of yellow spores. They drifted toward me, and years spent evading natural irritants spurred me into action. I jumped away, tripped, then planted my hands in the underbrush to break my fall. A moment later, I bounded in giant steps away from the dust.

Since I wanted to focus in the footing ahead, I sent a thought to my HUD.

Status Effects.

It responded so fast it made me a little dizzy.

You are not impacted by any status effects.

Although there weren’t leaves or bushes beneath these fir trees, fallen branches blooming with green lichen littered my path. They snapped underfoot sending echoes through the forest to contrast its spooky stillness. Mist lent an eeriness to the whole picture.

I unfolded my tingling fingers, then rolled them around the staff to get the blood flowing.

While light filtered between the branches above like tiny lasers, it did little to penetrate the shadows enveloping the forest. I spied few breaks in the dense obstacles underfoot, but if I pressed on, it’d have to end at some point.

Wouldn’t it?

Twenty minutes later, the ground hardened a bit then a narrow trail crossed my path. I smiled. Trails led places. Hopefully a new area was just around the bend. And if not, I’d start beating on the trees with my stick just to draw something out.

Crunch.

If anyone had been there to hear me yelp or notice the whiteness of my knuckles as I grasped the bo staff while twisting in a circle, I might have logged out and never returned to Enora out of embarrassment. Holding my breath, I squinted into the forest. A couple snails made their way across a branch overhead. A sickly-looking chipmunk with bald patches scurried in the canopy.

I kind of wanted to kill it.

Something rustled in a pile of dead branches at my feet then the black shell of a hulking insect shot out from cover.

I focused on the carapace, and the creature’s information popped.

Fungal Arthropod

Level 1

These hard-shelled beetles have a soft underbelly. They feed on deadpine fungi and leave droppings that fertilize it, creating a symbiotic relationship.

“Gross.”

The beetle rattled in response as it crawled out from under the mound of slimy mushrooms.

Scratch that. It is the mushrooms.

Half its body was covered in dripping, misshapen toadstools. They sprouted from the seams of the shell. Those sections of carapace not covered in fungus were shiny and coal black. Beady obsidian eyeballs were nestled just behind a pair of wicked mandibles like the clasps of an old-school manual can opener. It was about the size of a house cat.

“Disgusting little guy.”

When it screeched in response, I definitely didn’t jump or make a girlish squeak.

Seriously.

It was time for my first fight in Enora, but I found myself wanting to scrub the sight of the creature from my eyeballs. Bugs were not my jam. Giant bugs with razory teeth in a place where thorns made me wince and bleed? Even worse.

But it didn’t give me long to think about it. The beetle made another nails-on-chalkboard sound then skittered forward with its jaws open wide.

“No! Uh-uh.” I jabbed at the ground with my bo staff to redirect it. “God, you’re ugly.” I stomped when it skittered around the base of my weapon, but the arthropod dodged. When it did, I twisted the stick into a two-handed clutch then swept it in a wide arc from high to low.

The strike glanced off the beetle’s carapace.

You attack the Fungal Arthropod.

Fungal Arthropod

-0 HP

You have unlocked the Staves weapon skill!

Your Staves skill is rank 1.

Two to four damage my ass!

Although I’d only glanced at the text, it proved time enough for the beetle to scurry around my bo staff then lunge at my leg.

Fungal Arthropod uses Mandible Grab.

-7 hp

“Ack!”

It actually hurt. The pincer jaws locked onto my shin like a pissed off pit bull. Light of Babylon could never have prepared me for the sensations tearing through my leg, and all my gaming experience might as well have flown out the window.

When I tried to yank it free, the shelled beast came off the ground. I shook and stomped, but it wouldn’t let go.

The searing fire of its mandibles clutching the sensitive bone forced me into survival mode. I brought the butt of my staff down on its carapace again, and watched in horror as it glanced off two more times with the hollow report of a hammer striking a coconut.

Fungal Arthropod resists your attack.

Fungal Arthropod resists your attack.

Your Staves skill has increased to Rank 2.

Oh, that’s just grand. Thanks for nothing, Lucera.

I punched it again.

Fungal arthropod dodges your attack.

The creature snarled like a dog, and it was of little consolation it couldn’t bite me again with its mandibles clamped to my leg. Toadstools shook from its body as I tried to kick it off.

-7 HP

“Oh, come on.” I issued a flurry of follow-up cusses no deity would’ve smiled upon.

You recover 2 HP.

As if on cue, a hissing noise erupted from its backside as the carapace split open and a whip-like tail burst out with a barb on the end.

Time to panic.

“Fuck!”

Its strikes came in a frenzied blur.

Fungal Arthropod uses Puncture.

-4 HP

Fungal Arthropod uses Puncture.

-4 HP

80% health remaining

“Ah!” I swung my staff again and again and even managed to land a few shots against the flesh beneath the split carapace. But no matter how I focused, I couldn’t block the barb.

Fungal Arthropod uses Puncture.

-4 HP

+2 HP

I howled with fury then pinned the tail to the ground with a lucky jab, but my leg was still trapped, and the mandible was twisted under me. The beast was pinned flat, but the numbers kept rolling in.

- 4 HP

-5 HP (bleed)

Bile funneled into my throat and I nearly puked on top of the nasty insect.

-2 HP (bleed)

67% health remaining

My health bar flashed red. I focused there for a split second, and saw the sliver of red fluid and the number representing my remaining health.

HP: 67

For a painful moment, we were in a stalemate. The arthropod twitched under my staff, refusing to relinquish its grip on my leg. I growled then swallowed hard to keep from unleashing my stomach contents onto it. Then I recalled I hadn’t eaten anything to lose. The damage notifications faded as they drifted to the top of my interface. At least the standoff provided a moment of reprieve from the health loss, if not the pain.

+2 HP

69% HP remaining

I struggled, bearing down on the staff so the barbed tail wouldn’t get another strike, but the position challenged my balance since most of my stability came from one leg.

“Screw this.”

I scanned the tabs until I found the Pain Mitigation slider again, but when I tried to sweep it up to 100%, it didn’t move.

You may not adjust pain mitigation while in combat.

I growled through clenched teeth. “Oh, you little bastard.” Bearing down, I twisted the staff into the pinned tail. The beast screeched again, and the sound wrecked my eardrums. My avatar’s eardrums.

Well, now what?

The little bar of liquid sloshed around, half-empty

New notifications popped.

+1 HP

+1 HP

My health trickled back, but when I only had one Constitution—or 100 HP—that was all it could do. It was about three-quarters back to full when the beetle started wriggling again.

The best thing to do would be cut it off while I had it pinned. But with what? I looked around. Rotten sticks everywhere. My bo staff, if you could call it that, was occupied. Clothes, shoes, belt pouch…

The rock!

Putting all of my weight onto the staff, I let go with one hand and fished around in the belt pouch. Then it struck me. I was treating Enora like the real world. I opened the Inventory tab and focused on the bag slot containing the scraper.

As I focused, it materialized inside my clenched fist, its edge digging into my flesh.

No time for cutting. Casting off the staff, I hammered its sharpest edge against scorpion tail with the rock clutched in both hands. The beast writhed and released that ear-bending screech. Blood splattered, and my interface reported.

You bash the Fungal Arthropod with a rock.

Fungal Arthropod

-2 HP

You have unlocked the weapon skill: Unarmed.

Your Unarmed skill is Rank 1.

My muscles strained the more I beat it, and I was again hyperaware of the sensations I’d never experienced in LOB. The reverberations cascading up my arms when I slammed the rock down. My heaving breaths.

Your Unarmed skill has reached rank 2.

Your Unarmed skill has reached rank 3.

The little bastard finally let go then dropped to the ground.

My unarmed skill notched four more ranks, but the more I swung, the less often they came. That was pretty standard. If the AI gave me a weapon skill up every time I attacked, I’d be OP in minutes. Besides, if I hadn’t been struggling to make a dent in the little bastard, I could’ve appreciated the occasional familiarity derived from mechanics used in other games.

-1 HP (Bleed)

After a sickening splat, the animal screeched louder than before as its tail separated from its body.

One less threat to deal with.

My mind sought consolation as if to numb the screaming nerves in my shin.

The insect quivered and quaked with anger. I hoped to keep it in view as I reached for my staff, but I had to divert my gaze to find my weapon. The instant I did, the creature shot forward and latched on, creating a new wound.

Fungal Arthropod uses Bite.

-9 HP

-1 HP (bleed)

56% HP remaining

My scream echoed through the forest. I’d never do the desired damage if forced to focus so hard on not slamming the rock into my own leg.

The mandibles unclenched as it adjusted its grip, leaving me a narrow window of opportunity. I released the rock then reached for the mandibles.

Fungal Arthropod Uses Chew.

Critical Hit!

-22 HP

-1 HP (bleed)

33% HP remaining

Twenty-two HP out of nowhere?

That pissed me off.

Fun fact. This beetle had not one, but five different sets of moving mouth parts.

I drew back my uninjured leg then punted the little bastard. Bingo! The fungal fucker sailed into the low branches of a nearby tree before tumbling down into another pile of rotten leaf litter.

Thank God for synthesized adrenaline.

At this point I hardly noticed the searing pain in my hand because my leg dominated my brain space. As much as I wanted to charge and finish off my enemy, I paused to let my HP tick up again. The bleed effect struggled against my recovery.

-1 HP (Bleed)

+1 HP

-1HP (Bleed)

32% HP remaining

Don’t look down. Don’t think about it. Just move.

I groped for my bo staff with my good hand, lurched to my feet, then sprinted across the clearing. I’d be damned if I’d evacuate after that much trouble. I spied its legs kicking among the vines. When I swept them aside with the end of my staff, the beetle wriggled around on its back like a flipped turtle, its pale underside exposed.

-1 HP (Bleed)

+1 HP

32% HP remaining

I double-clutched the staff to solidify my grip, drew a deep breath as I raised it high, then brought it down with as much weight as I could throw behind it without ending up on my face again.

Critical Hit!

Fungal Arthropod

-8 HP

The carapace split with a sickening pop. But the incessant rattling of its mandibles and the chirping screeches left me suspicious I’d only pissed it off. I stomped my foot down to keep it pinned, raised the staff, then punched down twice more.

Hit!

Fungal Arthropod

-3 HP

Critical Hit!

Fungal Arthropod

-12 HP

Yellow chunks oozed out like the world’s most disgusting churned butter. The beetle shivered once more then was still.

You have killed a Fungal Arthropod.

25% XP bonus for first kill of a Fungal Arthropod

170 XP

Acid sloshed in my gut. I turned away then covered my mouth to suppress the burn creeping up my throat. Warm wetness covered my lips. I drew back my hand to find a half-moon chunk missing from the meaty part of my palm. A steady crimson flow accompanied the trail of HP loss that crawled across my vision.

-5 HP (Bleed)

-4 HP (Bleed)

23% HP remaining

Wonderment crossed my mind about whether bleed effects would scale with level. At level 15, for instance, I might lose the same percentage, which equated to a higher HP total. Carol had been right. I was a nerd.

The occasional +1 appeared, but not fast enough.

My head pounded, and my stomach churned. I dropped down a few feet from the crushed insect then watched the numbers stream up my interface. I focused on the red bar in a kind of dream state then searched for the pain mitigation function.

Darkness swelled in my periphery.

It was kind of meditative, watching them go. Like little red butterflies. Or counting bloody sheep. One negative HP. Two negative HP.

-2 HP (Bleed)

4% HP remaining

My heavy eyelids fluttered, the pain tearing through my leg the lone thing keeping me conscious.

6

The boastful documentation about features of Enora Online that differentiated it from other games didn’t mention anything about physiological shock. But as I quivered violently, waking in the woods with no clue how long I’d been out, I understood why. Hardcore gamers were one thing, but one didn’t attract the general gaming public with promises of torment.

I coughed. Gasped. Heaved a waking breath. Apparently, the developers thought it would be fun if losing buckets of blood knocked you into a vasovagal coma. Although I’d never been injured to the point blood made me woozy in the outside world, Enora accommodated.

Another first.

I’d lost track of my interface’s clock since monitoring it hadn’t been at the top of my priorities list with an insect clamped to my shin. I checked it, did the math, then realized I might not have been out at all. If I had blacked out, it’d only been for a moment.

That made sense. Who wants to sleep in a game world?

A burning itch streamed across my forehead. I reached up to pluck away a softball-sized snail that had developed a taste for my flesh. Slimy threads followed its ascent as I raised it, then a chill ran up my spine. I dropped it, balled my fist, then squished the fucker.

You have defeated a level 1 Fungal Feeder.

+16 XP

A task I’d failed—apparently just moments before—came streaming back through my mind. I scrounged for the mitigation tool, spotted it under my avatar in the Character Sheet, then bumped it up to 80%. No one could say I didn’t learn my lessons, but I still wasn’t raising it to 90. I had my pride.

With that bit of business behind, I opened my combat log. Talk about adaptability. Mind reading. Wow. What an amazing system. Upon realizing I’d dropped all the way to three hit points remaining before the bleed effect ended, I swallowed a stone.

I’d just been mauled by a giant beetle.

A level one, Kyra.

Sensations replayed anew. The shocks of pain as my flesh sliced open. A spot of dizziness when the first indication of blood sprayed like a busted water main instead of a drip.

But I’d survived it, and what trauma might have existed during the fight and in my waking moments waned when my health maxed. Somehow, I was juiced. Had Infinity enhanced the neurological impacting system to cause that kind of elation to stave off the aforementioned lawsuits? If so, it was quite the line to dance.

And kind of genius. But it’s time to get your head in the game.

The sight of dried blood when I raised my robe was the lone reminder there’d been conflict. I traced the log to the end.

You have defeated a Fungal Arthropod.

170 XP

A clock in the upper right showed less than an hour had passed in-game, and only twenty minutes in the real world.

Mind blown!

I wondered if the D-bags would jack their pain mitigation from the outset. If I’d learned anything in a workplace filled with egos, it was the ones who spouted off about the conquests who’d never performed the feats they promised. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine them lying about their mitigation settings, and I doubted it was the kind of thing one could inspect on other players.

They certainly knew how to slack off and get away with it.

But they were a waste of my brain space. I rose, dusted myself off, thumped away a group of snails swarming my bo staff, then stomped them into oblivion.

You have defeated a level 1 Fungal Feeder.

+11 XP

You have defeated a level 1 Fungal Feeder.

+9 XP

You have defeated a level 1 Fungal Feeder.

+7 XP

While I might have mistaken the XP drops with each kill as a diminishing return mechanic, I remembered those usually applied to abilities used against the same creature. But considering everything I’d experienced so far, Enora didn’t necessarily follow rules.

Upon inspection, I noticed the blood covered staff had lost a point of durability. The hide scraper rock lacked a score. Since it’d proven effective and my bag boasted open slots, I stored it.

To satiate my curiosity, I peeled away the vines where the arthropod died. It’d dematerialized.

Fine by me. Fucker.

I decided to make tracks before it spawned again. Although running from a level 1 wasn’t the bravest thing I’d ever done, I lived in reality—even in a fantasy world. It’d beaten me down. Next time, I’d be ready.

Somehow the dim forest of twisted trees creeping within a perpetual state of shadow proved a little less scary with a kill under my belt. But the thought from moments ago about whether that indicated neuro-mechanics at work left me wondering. After one painful encounter, I was ready for another XP fix. That shit wasn’t normal.

I hurried through the twisted, mushroom-infested forest, poking every stick pile I came across with my bo staff and jostling random thorn thickets. This time, I’d be ready to jump back and show some semblance of defensive skill.

No more arthropods appeared, but plenty of slimy snails did. The Fertile Deadpines wore a blanket of the pests.

I probably could’ve earned an XP point or two by stomping them, but the earlier kills had no discernible effect on the golden bar at the bottom center of my HUD, and I didn’t want to waste time. There was also a decent chance one might explode with toxic gas or something. I made a living measuring risks and rewards. Why push my luck?

Anything other than a comfortable walking pace seemed to deplete my Stamina bar. I jogged for a bit but it tanked fast, and I stopped a few times to force deep breaths into my lungs. My body’s trim and toned appearance was a mirage. In the outside world, I could’ve jogged a couple miles without discomfort. In Enora, stats determined my resilience.

But which stats?

I rolled through them on my character sheet. Ruled out Strength, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma, but when I mentally clicked the speaker icon next to Constitution a second time, I got my answer.

“Constitution represents the health and stamina of a living or undead being. Hit points increase per point spent on Constitution. Your Stamina pool is also increased by adding points to your Constitution attribute, as is the rate at which you regenerate health.”

Ten minutes later, I spotted another mound like the one from which the first arthropod had emerged. As I approached it on tip toes—taking care not to snap any branches—I formulated a plan. Setting my feet shoulder-width apart, I clutched the staff in both hands, familiarizing myself with its heft in a combat stance.

After I stomped down on the mound to draw it out, I tilted my staff then jabbed it beneath the arthropod’s belly. When I swept the end up and away, it flipped onto its back. If not for the first encounter, I might have taken a moment to celebrate my adaptability as its legs flittered wildly.

Instead, I planted my foot on its stomach. My knuckles whitened as I gripped my staff with both hands, raised it high, focused on my target’s softest spot, then drove it down with all my might—which wasn’t much.

Critical Hit!

Fungal Arthropod

-15 HP

Critical Hit!

Fungal Arthropod

-14 HP

The third time I raised the weapon, the tail slithered out from the rear of its carapace. It snapped then I whipped my leg to one side just in time to avoid its barbs. But before I could stomp it into mash, it whipped around again.

Pain tore through the flesh covering my ankle.

Fungal Arthropod uses Puncture.

-4 HP

-2 HP (Bleed)

So much for my grand plan. Still, a better start than before. I gritted my teeth then stomped on its tail. My staff pinned its body in place. I drew on every reserve of patience I could muster then muttered instructions to myself.

“You have the deeper HP pool. Act like it. Do as much damage as possible before it squirms away.”

If I got spooked and didn’t match blows with this nasty thing, I’d lose my advantage. I ignored the stinger jutting from my leg then raised the staff and jammed it down to score a critical hit.

The clearing was starting to spin, and I wondered if the barb jutting from my ankle was poisonous. But I raised the staff and jammed it down again and again.

“Just die, you piece of shit! Die! Die! Die!” A sickening crunch and one screech later, its legs rattled then it stilled.

You have defeated a Fungal Arthropod.

170 XP

An aura of golden light surrounded me before whipping into the air above. A triumphant orchestra of strings and horns swelled in my ears as a golden number two popped into the center of my interface then shot away into the distance.

Congratulations!

You have reached Level 2!

+2 to Constitution

The liquid in my health bar dipped then filled again as the pool’s reserves increased. The barb inched out of my leg, causing a creeping sensation in my shoulders and neck. Then the burning holes in my legs sealed, and the pain subsided.

After a quick survey of the area, I plopped down in the center of the trail to check my stats. With the added Constitution, my health increased from 100 to 120.

So, 100 for the first point and 10 for each additional constitution point. Wow. Stingy.

I still pumped one fist in victory, because screw it. Two real kills—snails aside—to achieve level 2 wasn’t so bad. Now that the fights were over, anyway.

I’d have to perfect my strategy for dealing with the pods or find something else to battle. The stings created trauma echoes in my brain, so I hoped for the latter. But now that I had a couple kills under my belt, my confidence swelled. Flipping the little pest onto its back had been a good strategy. Next time I planted my foot on one, I’d wait for the tail then stomp it down.

Hopefully they didn’t run in packs.

I scanned the length of my Grand Stick of Gut Smashery with new appreciation. It was time to stop bringing shame on my Tae Kwon Do instructors and use the bo staff for more than just churning bug butter. Just because it wasn’t as flashy as the nunchucks didn’t mean it couldn’t be useful. Besides, nunchucks would require closer proximity to an upright target.

I should be careful what I wish for.

My stomach rumbled.

Lucera hasn’t mentioned anything about eating in-game. But it wasn’t even close to lunchtime in the real world, and I’d had breakfast, which meant the biological response was game-related.

I would have to figure out where to send user feedback. A little starter food seemed appropriate if hunger pangs were going to kick in this early. What kind of game made someone hungry, anyway?

After checking my stats one last time, I scrounged for new information in the other tabs until I realized the system would probably bring them front and center when applicable. As I stood and pivoted to get my bearings from the compass in my interface window, my stomach rumbled again.

Maybe the game was screwing with me, and maybe Infinity’s machine learning had studied biological functions so well it caused hallucinations when one was famished, but I could swear I smelled something sweet on the wind.

7

I’d spent the better part of the morning hunting Fungal Arthropods in the Deadpines. Although a few were adjusted in level to match my own, by the time I hit my stride, I held my own. They gained HP, but I developed better tactics. It balanced out. But no matter how I strategized and prepared with each new mound I spotted, they always found a way to stab me with their freaking tails!

I’d leveled a few more times to increase my health pool via eight extra Constitution. My Staves skill was up to ten. Then my spirit surged when I uncovered a new ability.

You’ve discovered the Dodge skill.

+1% chance to dodge beings of equal or lower level.

Diminishing returns against enemies of higher level.

Your Dodge skill has reached rank 1.

Level 5 was nigh, but the shelled shits didn’t drop weapons, so I couldn’t select a class. Even worse, I’d added no loot to my bags. Enora was downright stingy. It was one thing for Infinity Designs to produce a world designed to behave realistically, but I wouldn’t have raised my nose if a dagger or wand had popped out of an arthropod’s mouth.

Or whatever orifice, for that matter.

Alas, they were all guts. Even when I’d given up hope of getting anything of consequence from them, a sliver remained that Enora would let me harvest animal parts from a corpse’s inventory.

The annoying sweet scent I couldn’t seem to track rose with a shift in the wind. When I picked berries as a girl, the scent of raspberry patches could waft in from a quarter-mile away, so the third time the breeze carried it to me, I dismissed the idea my empty stomach was playing tricks on my nose.

A pair of beetles jumped me along the way, but at this point my weapon skill had improved enough that I could crack their shells with surgical precision—even with a stick.

My XP bar revealed I needed 40 XP to top off level 4 and advance to 5. Not technically the halfway point to safety and my escape from hardcore mode, but a hope-inspiring premise nonetheless. Unfortunately, each new mob I dropped provided diminishing returns, and the XP crept. I needed to get out of the starting area if I wanted to hit 10 before I logged out for the day.

But the smart thing to do was stick around, kill one more beetle to reach level 5, then search for a higher-level area. I couldn’t fathom how difficult the next phase would be when compared to the sensation of barbs penetrating my shins.

What would a blade feel like? An arrow? I swallowed down a dry throat just imagining.

When I’d discovered the Fertile Deadpines, I’d received 25 XP. Entering the next area might bump me up to level 5.

I knew I was on the right track when the persistent fog lifted and light sifted into the forest. The spacing between trees grew wider. Tufts of bright green grass with yellow flowers resembling daffodils sprouted up among the rotten logs and toadstools. I had to be getting close, but I was so accustomed to games where area transitions were sudden that the slow transition left me with little confidence I knew anything.

The sunshine baked the woods, and little beads of sweat began to pop up on my forehead. I dabbed them with the back of my hand then stared in awe.

I’m sweating. In a by-god video game.

The muffled silence of the spongy forest’s edge was broken by occasional birdsong and the buzzing of small honeybees meandering from flower to flower. A new wave of the sweet smell I’d been detecting on the occasional breeze slammed into me when the buzzing swelled, then I traced the sound to a swarm of bees creeping and crawling over one another on the side of the first living tree I’d seen. I palmed my forehead.

Honey! That’s what it is!

In the outside world, a sniff of honey on the air wouldn’t have prompted me to think I'm in for a treat today, but game logic dictated that any sweet treats discovered in the wilderness presented opportunities. Aside from putting something in my grumbling belly, I might even pick up some culinary skills. Or maybe harvesting skills. And there was nothing like greed to inspire delusions of grandeur that led to mistakes.

I paid little attention when a couple bees detached from the hive and buzzed around. Then one buzzed my nose and snapped me out of my excitement. When my eyes fell on the swarm a second time, the realization of how many were stacked there coupled with the traumatic ghosts of barbs pricking my shins prompted me to give them a wide berth.

If I’d been seven, I might have found myself skipping like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road when the redirect brought me to a forest trail. Now this was an indication I really was on the right path, pun aside. But it could’ve meant that someone—or something—frequented it, and I certainly didn’t know enough about Enora to guess. It could be a construct drawn by the AI’s terraforming engine I’d read about. For some reason, images of brawny seven-foot-tall orcs passed through my mind.

The grass sprouted thicker on either side of the path, and healthy bark encased upright pines. Mushrooms still popped up everywhere, but the daffodils competing with them for territory encouraged me.

Even though I’d left the bees behind, the scent of honey grew stronger.

I was about to open my interface to find the world map when it popped into view. The fog of war surrounding the path I’d treaded was gray and semi-transparent. It revealed terrain topography, but few details about undiscovered country. However, where I stood, the detail was incredible. Instead of needing a slider to zoom in, I did it with my mind.

It was like a live spy satellite feed. The path twisted to the northeast and, when I stopped and turned to face that direction, I was certain the honey scent swelled in my nostrils.

The unmistakable crunch of a fallen branch behind me brought my heart leaping into my throat. I stood paralyzed like a horror movie victim too scared to turn and find the threat who’d snuck up while she wasn’t paying attention.

A low basso grunting noise emanated on the air then grew louder to signal its approach.

I wheeled, raised my staff, then froze. A hulking black bear gazed back at me with its tongue lolling to one side.

Shit. Holy shit. No, thank you. Shit.

Its mouth gaped to reveal rows of big nasty teeth. My feet were glued to the trail. If it launched, I’d suffer for it, and no stick would come between the monster and its human meal.

With another “hurrr,” it plopped on its bottom and sat staring at me.

I risked a step back.

Black bear, my ass.

This thing was easily the size of a grizzly-and-a-half, with paws the size of yard rakes.

Honeybear

Level 8

This peaceful megafauna of the Fertile Deadpines has a sweet temperament and a special bond with the local honey producers.

Despite the system’s proclamation it was peaceful, the sheer mass of the thing left me trembling like an oak leaf in a breeze. It was also three levels higher than me.

“Please don’t eat me,” I muttered.

It yawned, stretched its paws in the air and flopped onto its belly with its arms sprawled in front. Despite the grizzly-like hump on its back and fierce claws, its soft gaze signaled curiosity more than aggression.

A sticky amber substance painted its muzzle and reflected sunlight.

Someone’s been into the honey.

“Hurrr…” It mewled again then it scratched its nose with a big sticky paw and splattered honey across the path.

“You got into something tasty, didn’t you?” I mumbled, still a little too terrified to move.

“Hurrr…” The bear groaned and huffed through its nose.

While various games offered a beast taming component, it almost always proved impossible to tame one of a higher level, and considering how Enora put the rest of them to shame from level 1, I wasn’t about to push my luck.

People always underestimated the speed of bears. If I turned tail and ran, the camper van of a monster might chase me down in seconds, so I kept my voice low and crouched so I’d appear non-threatening.

Threatening. Right. Look at the size of this f—

“Hey there, buddy.”

The monster grumbled again then blinked.

“Good, sticky bear.” I raised my hand to show it my palm. More confident that each moment I survived proved it wasn’t going to ingest me, I grew a little brazen. “I don’t suppose you’d show me where you got this honey from.”

It responded with a blank stare. Its head swiveled as a bee dropped down to land on one of the fluffy yellow flower pedals nearby. Another landed on the honeybear’s nose.

He brushed it away and huffed. His tongue swiped more honey from his face.

I rose then clutched my hips.

The bear reached behind and scratched the hump on its back. It was then I noticed puncture wounds there. A lot of them. I wondered if the poor guy had been swarmed by Fungal Arthropods.

Or maybe players.

My head whipped around in a quick scan over my shoulder and along the sides of the path.

One of the bees landed on me, and I swatted it away. It buzzed angrily.

“What the hell?”

The same bee landed on the hump on the bear’s back and a shiver crept up my spine when it crept into one of the holes.

Gross!

Honey oozed out.

My hands shot to my mouth. Shivers rippled up and down my spine, and I dropped back a couple steps.

The bear scratched again, and the bee reappeared. Then another. And yet another. A trail of bees emerged from the holes pocking the gray flesh where hair had been rubbed away.

Oh, no.

“Hurrr…”

A bee zipped away from the bear and out of view, then a shock erupted in my neck.

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

I smacked at the spot, pulled my hand away, then stared in disbelief at the smashed pest.

Honeybee

-1 HP

Your Unarmed skill has increased to Rank 4.

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

25% XP bonus for first kill of a Honeybee.

2 XP

Another creeping sensation on the other side of my neck brought my hand up, but another piercing pain came before I could strike.

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

“Hurr…” the bear moaned. It flashed me a dejected look then scratched its back. Another line of bees exploded from the wounds.

“This is freaking gross!” I bellowed. The bear paused and trained its eyes on me, but I apparently proved too small a threat for any further response. Besides, it had bigger problems.

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

Ouch.

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

“Ouch! Dammit!”

It was like getting pinched by a dozen little Luceras. More landed and I brushed them off, backing away from the Honeybear and trying not to agitate them anymore. Another sting. Another slap.

Honeybee

-1 HP

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

Critical Hit!

Honeybee

-2 HP

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

Honeybee

-1 HP

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

Critical Hit!

Honeybee

-1 HP

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

The bear’s head flopped lazily onto the grass. It brought up one of his back legs to do a big-time doggy-scratch. More angry Honeybees emerged from their hive.

Their hive inside him.

I suppressed the urge to retch.

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

Damage notifications came faster than I could read.

Tongue hanging out, the bear was getting his scratch on. As I backed away, he lumbered to his feet then gave himself a vigorous shake, like a golden retriever getting out of the water. Bees and honey flew everywhere. Then his massive jaws stretched open and a swarm ejected from his mouth.

Nope! Fuck this! I’m out!

I turned tail.

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

Honeybee

-1 HP

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

Your Unarmed Combat skill has increased to Rank 6.

A flash of red around my yellow Stamina bar synced with a hitch in my chest as I struggled to draw air.

All that real-world cardio for nothing.

There was no point fighting them. It was hard enough to see five feet ahead.

Where’s a lake when you need one?

Their buzzing overwhelmed the forest’s sounds as they swarmed before my eyes and obscured the path. Uneven footfalls announced I’d left the path, but I found the wherewithal to raise my legs high with each stride to keep from tripping over a vine or fallen branch. Although I’d managed to maintain my grip on the staff as I hauled ass through the forest, it wasn’t going to help me against such tiny targets. It bordered on unfair.

Welcome to Enora.

Honeybee uses Eye Sting.

-4 HP

Status Effect: Accuracy Down

A new icon popped up in the top-right of my field of vision. A branch whipped out of nowhere and clocked me across the forehead. I thumped down hard on my backside and lost a couple HP. Out of instinct, I threw up my hands to defend from the bees as they swarmed in buzzing anger.

Now you’ve done it. You’re screwed. Might as well log out.

Then, I detected a shape beyond the swarming insects. I had to squint my bad eye so my watering one could focus. My chest thumped a hard beat, then I scurried to my knees and fireman crawled, squishing more bees as I went.

Honeybee

-1 HP

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

Your Unarmed Combat skill has increased to Rank 7.

At least I’m getting ranks for all this pain!

Another round of stinging pests plastered to the back of my neck.

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

Honeybee uses Sting.

-1 HP

Each hit bled a tick of health from the red bar in my interface, though the low damage per strike left it fuller than these pain pricks jumping around my flesh made it out to be. I was still sitting at three quarters of a tank.

Finally, after an excruciating crawl I reached a hut. It was rattier than the bark hovel I’d started in, with loose boards and the stench of decay. I wouldn’t be keeping any determined bugs out, but fewer bees darting at my neck and giving the little zaps of hell would do. A curved rod of wood I took for a handle dangled from one side of a rickety door. I twisted it, pulled with intent, and the door creaked open. The second my feet cleared the threshold, I slammed it behind me and twisted the handle back into place.

With my back to the door as I sat in the dimness, it was time to vanquish the remaining bees with hard slaps of my hand.

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

I glared up at the rickety crossbeams. “And don’t come back.”

My chest huffed with exhaustion, the blinking of my stamina bar accompanied by a dark periphery that pulsed with my thumping heart. Motes of dust danced across tiny rays of sunlight streaming through cracks in the thatched roof.

Another bolt of lightning struck the back of my neck. I smashed the culprit.

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

When my Stamina recovered and free breaths filled my lungs once more, I sighed a cleansing one through a wide-open mouth then roared laughter that echoed in the tight space. I didn’t think I’d ever eat honey again.

8

After I cleared the plethora of notifications, I opened my combat log and dug through the settings until I found the option to display one notification at a time then positioned the pane in the bottom-right so they’d never flood my vision. I might not get swarmed by bees again, but who knew what challenges awaited? Even less, in what numbers?

Probably more likely than I think.

The welts on my arms faded as the HP trickled back into the health bar. The swelling around my eye dissipated, then I blinked away the last bit of blurriness.

Bees thumped against the exterior walls. I wondered how I’d ever get out of there without renewing the attack but decided to live in the moment. An old table covered in toadstools lay snapped in two pieces.

An unfamiliar scent hung on the air. Although I couldn’t interpret it, my brain twitched with a secondary kind of recognition, as if evolution reached out to tap my shoulder to inform me of the memories of my ancestors.

Was it just trauma playing weird tricks, twisting me up a bit?

A knife and fork hid beneath the remains of the split table. They might be simple eating implements, but when I spat and polished a segment of the knife’s blade on my sleeve, it shone. They might have been silver. I turned them in my fingers then shrugged.

Waste not want not.

Both fit in one slot of my inventory. Maybe when I reached a town, I’d net a few coins for them and score a healing potion.

A rotten shelf along the wall had collapsed and dropped sacks of old flour and spices onto the floor.

When my recon brought me around to the door again, I noticed something piled against its frame, not too far from where I’d recuperated moments earlier.

“What do we have here?”

When I whipped some crusty fabric aside a pair of hollow eye sockets stared back. My finger rushed to my nose to mask the stench fuming from remnant scraps of flesh on an otherwise skeletal form.

Yikes! Maybe authenticity isn’t always the best idea.

The stench forced me back a few steps, and my stomach churned.

Despite the discomforts of Enora, I hoped I got some quality play time in before the lawsuits shut it down.

A mushroom grew from a hole surrounded by spider cracks in the side of the skull. The corpse glowed when I focused on it.

Unknown Corpse

Did this mean NPC corpses didn’t vanish when they perished?

When I focused on the corpse an inventory window popped up in the center of my HUD. It displayed a graphic of a pouch and a silvery sword. Sucking shallow breaths, I stepped forward, then flipped the dead dude onto his side. I found the sword lodged beneath it, but a nasty swarm of beetles skittered in panic. I seriously did not want to stick my hand in that chaos.

Tough shit. Play the game.

Instead, I snatched the pouch pinched between two bony fingers, tugged the drawstring, then peered inside the bag. Instead of seeing the contents, another inventory window popped up.

Three sat empty, one contained a pile of silver coins.

Time for a test. I opened my inventory tab. It contained two windows, one for my belt pouch and one for the four-slot bag. After the cutlery and hide-scraper, six slots remained in my eight-slot bag. To experiment, I focused on one as I opened the belt pouch and focused, hoping to nest the four-slot bag inside.

The frame of the larger window blinked red.

You didn’t really think it’d be that easy, did you?

But when I focused on the coins in the pouch, they slipped right into the slot. Not all was lost. I tied the new pouch on the empty side of my belt.

Something crawling near the shelves caught my eye. I closed the inventory tab quickly and crept toward the shelves.

A little shiitake popped off from a cluster prodding through an opening in the sack of flour and inched its way across the floor.

Deadpine Fungi

Level 1

These symbiotic mushrooms boast fungi spores rendering them as dangerous as many hosts they inhabit.

A scratching sound brought my head around.

Despite empty eye sockets, the retired adventurer stared my way, the longsword clutched in its three-fingered hand.

Should’ve grabbed that, dummy!

Its head swiveled, and its teeth clacked together as if it tried to speak.

Tenacious Zombie

Level 6

This corpse has been reanimated by a fungus.

Before I could absorb the meaning, its sword thrust through the air, split my skin, then clanked off my clavicle. A resounding zap of hell shot through the bone then radiated through my shoulder.

“Ah! What the fucking hell?”

That’s 80% pain mitigation?

My back slammed into the wall, then wind left my lungs with a grunt.

-6 HP

The zombie whipped the sword across my throat—or where my throat had been just before I dropped into a crouch when my simulated adrenals took over.

Your Dodge skill has reached Rank 2.

+1.5% additional chance to dodge creatures of equal or lower level

Diminished returns for creatures of a higher level, with a penalty of .5% for each level higher than your own.

A silent curse passed through my mind when I spotted my staff leaning on the opposite side of the room. The zombie clutched its weapon with both hands then drew it back and over so its elbows bent near the holes where ears had once been.

It wasn’t wasting any time trying to finish me. There was no way around, so I launched from my crouch, punched my good shoulder into the center of its torso, wrapped my arms around, then pumped my legs as I drove my enemy skyward. I’d expected more resistance, but the zombie’s atrophy had me carrying it across the room fueled by rage.

We slammed into the opposite wall, then a stinking dust rained down.

Tenacious Zombie

-2 HP

Those nasty, broken teeth clacked and clattered, then an elbow slammed onto my injured shoulder, sending a numbing flurry down my arm. I dove then rolled over my good shoulder and onto my feet.

My judo instructor would’ve been proud.

The zombie pursued, its sword drawn back on one side, telegraphing its next strike as it lunged toward me. I snatched my staff, then whipped it around just in time to deflect the blow to one side.

You’ve discovered the Parry skill.

+1% chance to parry melee attacks against enemies of equal or lower level. Diminished effectiveness against enemies of higher level.

Your Parry skill has reached rank 1.

My celebratory hoot was cut short when the undead fighter punched me square in the bridge of my nose. Salty blood poured over my lips.

Tenacious Zombie cleans your clock.

-22 HP

-2 HP (bleed)

-1 HP (bleed)

My garbled scream might have rattled the old shack if not for the blood pouring down the back of my throat. Fury burned in my cheeks. I cracked it on the skull with my bo staff.

You strike Tenacious Zombie with your bo-staff.

Tenacious Zombie

-6 HP

The low damage rolls only added to my frustration. I twisted the staff, then attacked from the other side. When the zombie tried to strike with the flat of the blade, I ducked, brought my staff low, then swung the end up as I jumped skyward to connect beneath its bony chin.

No matter how many times I clocked the bastard, it kept coming.

I’d have been really proud of a spinning attack that brought one end of my staff around to break right through its skull, but it cocked its head to the side, teetered back a step, then turned its perpetual smile on me again.

“Why won’t you just die?” I bellowed. A nagging thought about how zombies were already dead pricked at my brain, but I cast it off.

On the bright side, the staff grew more comfortable in my hands with each swing. So, I spun it, then clacked it off the center of the monster’s skull.

Tenacious Zombie

-4 HP

Bonehead returned the favor with another jab in the center of my chest.

Tenacious Zombie uses Thrusting Strike!

Critical Hit!

-48 HP

32% health remaining

A third of my remaining health bar went poof. This would have been a great time for a clutch healing spell or a lightning bolt, anything but the end of a crappy staff.

When all you have is a hammer…or a stick.

If I stuck around much longer, the inherent advantage it enjoyed by wielding a blade would send me back to my spawn point to create a new character. The synthesized adrenaline kept me on my feet through the grueling pain from all the little puncture wounds might have been admirable programming on the developers’ parts, but it wasn’t keeping the prick off me.

The zombie pressed its advantage. When I parried another strike, it leaned into my sore shoulder—perhaps sensing my weakened state.

While my staff pinned his weapon to one side, I raised my knee then planted it into the center of my enemy’s chest. Something beneath the tattered garments gave a sickening crack, and another plume of dust puffed out from beneath its collar.

Before it could regain its balance, I stepped in close to refuse it the space required to swing the weapon. A well-timed elbow caught it in the jaw, but the zombie snatched my arm with its free hand to prevent further attacks. We struggled in a stalemate.

I twisted my shoulders with a grunt but couldn’t break free of its grasp.

My gaze met the empty sockets at close range. I spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

A hiss uttered from its stinking mouth hole, leaving me to wonder how much flesh remained beneath its tattered coverings. I emptied my lungs to dispel the putrid stench, turned my head, drew a quick breath to steel myself, then slammed my forehead into its teeth. White light flashed. They cracked.

Ouch.

Warmth bloomed on my forehead, then blood ran into one eye.

You have discovered an agnostic combat skill:

Headbutt

Thrust your forehead against your opposition.

You use Headbutt.

Tenacious Zombie

-19

Self-inflicted wound

Your poor delivery of the Headbutt skill has caused a Minor Bleeding Wound.

-5 HP

-1 HP (bleed)

-1 HP (bleed)

26% health remaining

The white light I’d mistaken for concussive stars signaled the execution of the ability. It said something about the thickness of my skull that the highest damage strike I’d done so far involved it.

Mister Mushroom staggered backwards as he swallowed cracked teeth, but I was too busy trying to recover from a momentary wave a vertigo to appreciate my ingenuity. His bones shuddered and his bony jaw fell open with a sad gasping sound. Its body began to tremble and quake, and I hoped he’d collapse in a pile of leathery bones. Then a yellow glow enveloped him and a yellow cloud exploded in all directions.

Tenacious Zombie uses Sporulate.

- 5 HP (Poison)

The zombie’s neck craned to the rear then thrust forward. Clouds of yellow spores billowed from its gaping mouth. A failed attempt to dodge the spores caused me to slam into the corner. The moment I inhaled, another set of damage counters began scrolling.

-3 HP (Poison)

-3 HP (Poison)

21% health remaining

The zombie hissed the last of its spore cloud and wiped its mouth with the back of a hand. That’s when its jaw lopped off and clattered to the floor. Two things struck me as strange.

First, that it bothered to swipe excess fungus from its mouth. Second—and related—it didn’t seem to notice its jaw tumbling away when it lurched forward without missing a beat.

The poison damage kept coming.

-3 HP (Poison)

-3 HP (Poison)

15% health remaining

For every three HP I lost, I gained one back. The mechanics turned against me with each tick. If I didn’t end this soon, I’d be designing a new character.

Although I wasn’t sure that’d be so bad.

“Gah!” The stench swelled in my nostrils. I gagged. I coughed. If not for the battle for my life, I might have retched on the spot, but if I wanted my head to remain perched on my shoulders… I brought my piece of shit staff around for another blow, but the zombie parried. This time, he drove my weapon down in a brutal two-handed slice. There was a distinct snap, then the bo staff split in half.

I raised the two pieces, glared at them in turn, then cursed the nastiest word I could imagine.

The zombie didn’t rest. It brought the tip of the blade up in a reverse arc. I cocked my head back in a futile effort to dodge, but the tip sliced right through my chin, creating a cleft where there’d been none, and a new wave of pain ripped through the bone beneath.

Critical Hit!

-11 HP

5% health remaining

-3 HP (Poison)

+1 HP

4% HP remaining

-2 HP (Bleed)

+1 HP

3% HP Remaining.

At least that was something. Without thinking, I slammed the pointed ends of my recently severed staff into the zombie’s cheeks.

Critical Hit!

Tenacious Zombie

-14 HP

You have learned a new skill!

Dual-wield

Your Dual-wield skill has reached rank 1.

It might have been comical if I could’ve dislodged the ends to strike again, but both were somehow stuck in its brittle cartilage, and unless I wanted to struggle wrenching them out while he prepared his killing attack, it was time to move my ass.

I released them then crawled backward, my eyes flitting wildly for anything I could wield. My health bar was down to a sliver. I hurt all over. My lungs labored against the poison effect. My legs buckled, then I tumbled to my backside.

1% HP remaining.

A soft crunch emanated from beneath one hand when I hit the ground.

You have vanquished a Honeybee.

1 XP

Congratulations!

You have reached level 5!

+2 Constitution

Trumpets blared. Gold light swept over the room. My health bar jumped to full. The echoes of pain subsided. Although more text streamed in the golden pane, I swept it to one side with a thought so I could focus on the task at hand. I’d been the luckiest girl this side of Enora, and I wasn’t about to look that horse in the mouth. A golden exclamation point blinked on the right side to remind me to read this ignored information later.

That was cool.

I leveled my gaze on the zombie’s bony half-face.

“You, my friend, are fucked.”

I struggled to my feet, raised a foot, then slammed my heel into the zombie’s kneecap. The leg snapped, then my enemy tumbled. When it sat up, a second kick popped his shoulder clear of its socket and sent the arm holding the long sword clattering across the room. Although I wanted to pursue it, I pressed my advantage. I lifted my foot then stomped the bastard so hard, it sent echoes up my leg and into my knee. Zombie bones cracked. Cartilage ground to dust. When it tilted its head as if to look skyward, I made every effort to shove my heel down its throat.

You have defeated a level 6 Tenacious Zombie!

25% XP bonus for defeating a higher-level enemy.

25% XP bonus for first kill of a Tenacious Zombie.

+287 XP

Despite the message announcing my victory, I stomped on. Only when I’d taken my frustration out to the point my Stamina bar blinked in protest did I collapse against the door then slide down onto my backside. Then I wiped the bee corpse off my hand.

“What a morning,” I muttered into the dank air.

The little mushroom inched its way across the cabin. I squashed it.

You have vanquished Deadpine Fungi

1 XP

Huzzah.

Absent all the excitement, I noticed the buzzing from outside was gone. I imagined what a nightmare the whole encounter would’ve been had the bear given chase and burst through the wall to add to my problems. I checked the clock to discover it was getting close to lunchtime.

A good time to take a breather.

Reevaluate my life.

Maybe swear off video games.

Who am I kidding? This rocks.

The golden exclamation point blinked on the right side of my HUD. When I turned my focus on it, it swept to the center of my visual field then burst into a translucent golden pane then filled with text.

Milestone:

Beginning at level 5, you receive two bonus points to spend on whichever attribute(s) you desire.

You have two bonus attribute points to spend.

Although I considered dropping them into Constitution so I never found myself within a couple hit points of dying again—after all, luck doesn’t hold out forever—I decided to save the decision for when I returned to Enora after a break.

I was about to log off when I glimpsed the sword. Crawling over, I wrestled it from the skeletal hand and raised it.

By equipping the Iron Broadsword, you’ve learned a new starter class!

Fighter

At level 20, Fighters can choose from the following Advanced Combat Professions:

Warrior

Dark Knight

Blade Dancer

Do you wish to change your class to Fighter?

Very cool.

Knowing my luck, I’d lose the sword before learning the class if I didn’t equip and accept immediately.

You are now a level 5 Fighter.

Maybe I’d known before, but starting the Fighter class at level 5 reminded me how the starter classes worked. If ACP classes were selected at level 20, then I could level as a fighter until then, and any other classes I discovered would level in the background. I held little doubt the leveling of multiple classes only applied to starter classes. After all, leveling all classes simultaneously after choosing specialties would be stupid. Infinity wanted people to remain subscribed, and leveling multiple classes was half the joy of gaming.

But the simultaneous leveling of starter classes so we could unlock more classes at level 20 was kick ass. In way, the game wouldn’t start until then. It gave us something to look forward to. A new wave of elation sent shudders through my chest.

I retrieved the scabbard from the zombie’s remains then tied it to my belt before sheathing my new weapon. I eyed the halves of the staff resting on the dusty floor.

We had a good run trusty stick. Thanks for dual-wield. Now rot.

For good measure, I opened the door a crack and shoved the pile of bones outside before latching it again. All bets were off here. Enora had proved itself an unpredictable wretch, and I wasn’t taking any chances. Which reminded me to spend my new attribute points on Constitution.

I checked over myself to make sure everything I wanted to keep was attached to my person. Satisfied, I opened the interface and focus-clicked the logout button.

In the blink of an eye, I was back in my pod.

My stomach rumbled.

9

A shiver of apprehension swept over me when my pod rematerialized and my digital assistant announced a text from Carol. The Do Not Disturb setting I’d set as the default lived up to its name, but in retrospect, I’d wondered if it’d been the best idea.

The door rose, then I spoke to the air surrounding me. “Reply to Carol.” A soft tone announced the system was ready to respond.

I was in the game.

I’d showered that morning and, although I didn’t sweat in the climate-controlled seat inside, the last few hours left me desiring a good scrub. In tribute to the various Enoran stenches, I made a mental note to buy stronger soap— antibacterial, anti-fungal, the works.

I announced my intentions to Carol, dropped the phone on the edge of the sink, then peeled off my clothes.

A chime sounded while I washed, but I ignored it until I got out then toweled off.

“You have twelve new texts and three unheard voicemails.”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one playing hooky today. I just happened to be the only one who’d bothered to get permission first. Trip and Kip used an uncreative story about how they had both eaten at the same one-star sushi place and got the runs. Anyone who knew their snark like I did got it. The lie suited them and, in some juvenile way, they thought it was funny.

Carol informed me Ronnie actually showed up, bitched about the other two for an hour, then went AWOL. The time clock indicated he was still in the office, but no one had seen him and he wasn't answering calls.

The boss fumed. He’d browbeat Carol into approving his own PTO at the end of the day before and had been ready to dive into Enora himself when the angry texts streamed in from the D-bags’ coworkers as they raged over the increased share of the day’s duty-divvying.

“Why is any of this my problem?”

Carol didn’t bother to mask her sigh. “Because you’re the one who’s gotta put their work into some readable form and pass it on to Disbursing.”

I’d wrapped up last week’s projects so the three stooges had nothing more to do than put their finishing smudges on them, then push them up the virtual assembly line to the next team. They’d neither finished nor provided any sort of updated timeline for the guys down the pipe. Instead, they put everything off until the last minute. True to form.

After a long period of silence, Carol sighed again. “Sorry Kyra, but the other sites are raging. Contractors aren’t going to get paid on time if someone with the slightest smidgen of responsibility doesn’t step up. Ray’s losing it. He gave up on stomping around the empty cubicles and saved his most foul selection of words until I was in earshot.”

“Right. His way of ensuring you’d call me so he didn’t have to. Coward.”

Thus started the natural evolution of project management at my day gig. Instead of driving to one of their houses and raising hell, he decided it best if I did the Aisle of Douchbaggery’s jobs for them. When measuring the D-bags’ incompetency against the need to pay contractors, I’d have been ringing bells.

I might have told Ray to stuff it, but Carol’d already taken the brunt. I didn’t need to add to her pain by forcing her to be my messenger of bad tidings, and if I got on the phone with him, things might turn ugly because I wasn’t feeling my job at the moment.

If only I could fix this problem by bashing it with a crooked stick.

The vision of the Tenacious Zombie’s skull with two ends of a staff jammed into it brought a shiver equaled only by my smile.

I’d have wagered my level of irritation sat as high as anyone else’s by the time I reached the office. To make matters infinitely worse, I’d skipped lunch. My stomach grumbled in reminder.

I stomped in, power walked upstairs, then gave a passive-aggressive little wave as I passed Carol. Ray was sniffing around my office when I arrived. I really needed to start locking the door.

“Red, it’s about fucking time. Where the hell have you been?”

“I had PTO. Approved. Don’t start snapping at me because your boys—”

“Where do you keep the pay cycle sheets?”

As much as I wanted to press, Ray was my supervisor. Not the big boss, but he enjoyed firing power and a mighty temper. Since bashing him with a stick was out of the question—more because I didn’t have one handy than any sense of propriety on my part in that moment—I played dumb. I could be immature, too.

“What’s that, Ray?”

I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to get my money’s worth.

“The pay cycle. I want to print it out and pin it to their desks so they shit themselves when they finally show up. Then I need the spec sheets.” I stared blankly, just to get his shoulders hunched. “The ones the guys are supposed to have, Red.”

“Red? Who’s Red?”

“The soon-to-be-unemployed ginger chick standing in front of me.”

Did this dickwad just call me a chick?

“The guys have the sheets because I finished my work then passed them over.” I smirked. “You know, like it says in the Project Lifecycle documentation.”

Ray glared like I was speaking Ancient Sumerian. “Whoa, you really did just roll out of bed.” He said something else after that, but I didn't hear it because of the raging wind of anger and spite thumping in my ears over how he’d turned his shit on me. He was still talking when I let the real world filter back in. “…and fucking Horner never came back from lunch. If he thinks he’s getting into my guild, he's got another thing coming.”

“Are you seriously talking about Enora? Jesus. Just let me sort this out. Give me an hour.”

“Aha! I knew it.” His anger melted, if only for a moment. “That’s why you weren’t answering Carol’s texts. You’re a gamer chick.”

The zombie’s stinking face—cracked teeth, stench, and all returned in a crisp mental image. Broadsword to the chest, please.

“What continent are you on? Discovered any starter classes? Is your avatar hot? I only got an hour in-game before shit hit the fan here.”

What a dope.

He’d probably logged out crying the first time some mob tried to chew his face off then saw the messages from the other branch managers. I decided to stick it to him.

“It’s all right,” I lied. “A little too easy.”

I wondered if I was the only one in the office capable of subtlety.

His face contorted like some Vegas act. “Really? I spent all my time sculpting my avatar. Does it get weird? Did you die right off? Bet you did. Hey, get your work finished in an hour, and I might talk to the guys about letting you in the guild.”

As if.

“Ray, it's my day off, and I don't want to be here. I’ll do the work. Just promise me you’ll punish the douchebags.”

“You’re good with doing four people’s work then?” He smiled. “I knew I could count on you. That’s why you’re the lead. Someone’s gotta keep those guys in line.”

I lowered my tone to a low mutter. “Which happens to be your job.”

“What’s that, Red?” He patted my shoulder then moseyed toward the door with a new bounce in his step. A ripple of disgust cycled down my spine.

“Okay…” Ray adopted the distant gaze announcing his tiny, two-stroke motor puttered to life inside his narrow head. “If you're doing your thing, and the guys aren’t here to screw up their thing, then I don't have to be here. Just wrap everything up and pass it along like you were supposed to, and I'll text the other branch managers to let them know it's coming.”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘like I was supposed to’?”

Ray replied with a dismissive wave. “Can you get it done, or do you need me to be here hold your hand?”

Selfish asshole. He’s not going to punish anyone.

I squinted then growled. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Right. I think we're done here. I’m…gonna go.”

By the time the rage degraded ten minutes later, my mind went into autopilot. I allowed the events of that morning to replay in my head—listing my stupid mistakes and considering how I’d approach similar situations differently.

My head came up, and I stared at the open door for a moment when I realized that trauma over the kind of horror show I’d experienced might rage in weaker minds, but I didn't feel terrible. Hadn’t when my consciousness returned to the pod, either. Kind of refreshed, really.

Maybe the new tech insulated me from psychological damage. Or maybe I was just a tough cookie. A sly grin crept up one side of my face, but it faded when my gaze returned to a report.

Either way, it didn’t kill me.

That was the mantra I settled on as I powered through the last of the paperwork then sent it off, completing several guys’ work—thirty-two hours of manpower—in five hours. By myself.

Frustration bloomed when I rose from my desk, grabbed the jacket off the back of my chair, then inspected the world outside my window. It was dark. When I passed Carol’s desk, she was gone. It might have been nice if she’d stopped by since my PTO day was toast, but she’d probably been through the ringer. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to witness the expressions of wrath darkening my face.

I checked my handheld. Sure enough, a message from Carol topped the list of Enora Launch Day Updates.

Sorry.

Yup. Definitely wrath.

That’s all right.

She responded almost right away.

Would ice cream help?

It was tough to say no. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. I’d plowed straight through hunger and into anger.

I need to pick up sustenance of substance. Rain check.

I stopped in the break room on my way out in search of donuts but they were honey glazed, petrified stones.

When I tapped in the code on my front door, my phone chimed. Carol again.

My brother has a second pod. He wants me to log in with him tonight.

Somehow, I couldn’t quite picture Carol running around Enora. Babylon was one thing, but the way the new world’s every image stuck to my mind in the first morning’s aftermath, I had doubts about how she’d hold up.

But I wasn’t about to tell her that. Still, it would be wrong not to warn her about the system.

You know you can’t log in with friends yet, right?

Yeah, I get it. But his pod is beast, and I haven’t seen him in a while.

Although I liked Carol, Infinity’s decision to make players earn their stripes before teaming up was awesome. That damned zombie had fired every competitive neuron in my brain, and the entire time I’d worked on those stupid reports at the office, I itched to go back. To improve. Okay, I was addicted.

On the drive home, I recalled the headbutt and sent a reminder to my subconscious that I should raise my chin next time and give it to the enemy with the harder section of bone. I longed to see if my martial arts hobbies served me in-game.

Pain was… painful, and I’d never dreamed a game could be so… authentic. But I was all-in.

I spread some cream cheese on a bagel, wolfed it, then tossed the paper towel into the trash.

The hatch on my pod whirred open, I jumped inside, then logged in with every intention of calling in sick the next day. There were firsts for everything.

10

The scent of the musty, mushroom-filled hut in the Fertile Deadpines materialized before the scenery. My stomach grumbled as if I hadn’t eaten—because in this world, I hadn’t.

Wow.

With the blooming of my senses upon my return to the environment, events of that morning came rushing back. The scent I couldn’t identify but somehow ticked at my brain was gone, and my jaw dropped in awe. It’d been the zombie’s flesh, muffled by his tattered clothing.

“Dude, that’s awesome. And gross.”

My shoulders and the nape of my neck tingled with something between fear and excitement, and I spun to check my six. Half of me wasn't sure if I could take another twelve hours inside a lucid horror movie.

The other half was itching to break shit.

Sunlight trickling through a crack in the hut’s ceiling reminded me of the altered time scale in Enora. Eight hours in the outside world equated to a full day in Enora. Two-thirds of the day had passed while I was gone, which meant the sun would soon set. I’d have to hustle if I wanted to escape the woods before dark.

Although it boasted a nicked blade and its wrap was tattered, my broadsword lent a new air of confidence when I stepped outside. After checking my map, I continued my easterly trek.

In other games I’d played, roads and paths were often safe spaces where enemy mobs didn’t wander, but I’d encountered the nightmare bear right beside the trail, which told me all bets were off when it came to the Deadpines.

An eerie silence swallowed up my every footfall, and I couldn’t help but wonder what predators lurked in the shadows. Another shiver swept down my spine. Man, this game was rad.

You have discovered the Fertile Terraces.

25 XP

These terraced farmlands border the Beryl Mountains.

When the fog lifted from my map to reveal the surrounding area, the shaded green of the rolling hills bloomed to life. I likened the sensation of peering down upon them through my map to flying above in a helicopter.

When the sun grew low in the sky, the faint tang of woodsmoke crept to my nostrils. The possibility of food—and maybe a cozy hillside tavern—drew me onward. I doubled my pace while focusing on my Stamina bar. Maybe I could find the perfect strides to balance it out.

The path widened. Clustered pines gave way to twisted oak thickets. Before long, I caught my first glimpse of the horizon to the south. A rocky mountain with a flat snow-topped cap loomed to the east, standing sentry over a range of lower peaks stretching as far as the eye could see.

The fog of war lifted to reveal mountainous topography labeled:

Beryl Mountains

I gawked at a high, flat face with stones jutting from its surface. A rock climber’s dream. Skyscraper-sized boulders stacked up to the base of the larger mountain.

The view has to be amazing from up there.

A row of terraces eased into view. Between the giant boulders rolled hills of fertile soil. Crops and simple fences popped up along the edges of the terraces. Sheep grazed on the lower tiers. Worn footpaths wound from low thatch-roofed structures to the grassy hills. Trails of wood smoke drifted skyward from chimneys. Low lights glowed in the windows.

My mouth watered as I imagined sheep fat popping over fires in cozy kitchens. I scanned for a road with an inn or a tavern or shops in hopes I could spend some of the silver I’d snatched from the zombie’s pouch, but the low, fenced domiciles stood the lone signals of civilization along the hillside. If I couldn't find food in a tavern, then I’d see about buying it off one of the farmers. The way Enora pounded my other senses, the taste of food was likely ridiculous.

My gut tingled with the thought of encountering my first sentient Enoran. If a horrific bear, a bunch of stinging bees, and a zombie could seem so authentic, the thought of crossing paths with a humanoid or ten filled me with fresh anticipation.

I couldn't imagine game designers dropping these farms out here without some kind of village nearby. Then I recalled what I’d read in the blogs. The developers put nothing here. The NPCs lived their own lives. They evolved over a two-thousand-year period untouched by coders.

The audacity shouldn’t have surprised me, especially if the stories about this Fowler guy were true, and they’d found a way to transfer his consciousness into the game world. Baffling stuff.

My experience with Lucera had been a real eye-opener. Who knew what other NPC's were like? I likened the cross between my apprehension and anticipation to a first day on the job, where new people and new challenges awaited. Anyone who hadn’t stepped into Enora might have considered it strange to think that way about virtual worlds and their NPC’s, but they’d learn soon enough.

At least here, if someone's a dick, I can kill them… but with what penalties? Surely an authentic world like this has rules, if not laws. Could I end up in a cell? If evolution is left to the AI and its supplicants, wouldn’t civil standards be the same?

My welcome email noted how the willy-nilly killing of NPCs could lead to trouble, but it didn’t elaborate. Of course not. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Enora was designed for discovery… of everything.

That reminded me what Lucera had said about other players. It was an open world, and the first ten levels were hardcore. I was level 5. Although it wasn’t my style to go hunting down level 1s to gain XP, I’d have to watch my back because D-bags like the ones I worked with would.

Seek any advantage. Kill without regard for repercussions. Troll.

I hoped intense penalties awaited those fools.

My feet slowed without thought as the farms drew close. The thickets thinned, and the soil on either side of the path became drier and hard-packed. More fences sprang up on either side.

I kept my head on a swivel in case some opportunistic asshole hid in the shadows waiting to kill the first newbie who walked through.

When I arrived at an intersection at the base of the mountains, I heard a sound in the distance like a slamming door. Despite that potential opportunity—or intentional distraction—my gaze lingered on the wider road creeping in either direction.

I unsheathed my sword, stepped off to the side, then crouched behind some bushes a few yards from the intersection. The weapon teetered in my grip. Had I been so clumsy with it before?

I lingered, watching the fields and beaten trails and listening for footfalls. Aside from strange evening bird calls and a few bleats from the pastures above, the scene was still. The only sign of people were the flickering lights in the windows and smoke from the low homes on the hillside.

And the slamming door.

I scanned the area for the source of the sound, the slightest hint of movement. Nothing.

When I was sure the coast was clear, I strode to the widest trail then focused on the nearest farmhouse. It sat on a rise about a football field away. Maybe I could knock and introduce myself before the sun went down. If I was lucky, I’d find a quest up there. A sweet scent filled the air when I drew closer. It lured me forward despite every dark fairy tale I’d heard as a child.

By the time I reached the top of the staircase, I grinned from ear to ear. The smell of roasted meat was thick. When I turned around, the glowing sunset had cast the whole forest below me in an amber glow.

The structure—a quaint, red cottage opposite a barn—sat in the middle of a lower terrace. It was the cutest little farmhouse, built half into the hillside, with a path of stones smoothed by ages of footfalls leading to the door.

I raised my fist, hesitated, drew a deep breath through my nostrils, then knocked as I exhaled.

Silence.

I focused on the door to see if my interface provided details. Nothing.

After knocking again, I pressed my ear to the wood. “Hello?”

In the outside world, I’d have never garnered the courage to follow my first instinct, but this was a game world, regardless of authenticity. How bad could the trespassing penalty be out here with no town in sight? The little voice of caution that ruled my life asked a better question.

Is it worth finding out?

I tested the simple wooden knob, and it twisted. After pushing the door just enough for an orange seam of light to pass through, I pressed my face into the gap to let a single eye peer inside.

A low fire burned in the hearth illuminating a small sitting room.

“Anyone home?”

A door off to the side of the sitting room stood closed. Another waited wide and inviting. A dim oil lamp burned. I stepped inside, considered leaving the door ajar in case I needed to make a quick exit—no one could say I didn’t learn from zombie encounters—but ultimately decided to shut it. Any occupants might take exception to my entering uninvited, but leaving the door open might lead them to wonder if I was born in a barn. Not to mention the likelihood someone might saunter by and spy the light through the crack on launch day. Millions more people would have joined the army of players invading this world while I was at work, which increased the likelihood of conflict, and any advantage my random entry time provided was long lost.

I hated my job.

“Hello?”

The scent of meat drew me to the yawning door. A tray piled with strips of dark meat lay on a sanded but unfinished kitchen counter.

Welcome, Goldilocks. Haven’t you had your fill of bears for one day?

“Piss off,” I muttered to my inner voice.

I snatched a piece of meat and bit down. Crispy on the outside, moist and juicy in the middle, it painted my mouth in the most delightful way. In that moment, I realized Infinity Designs really had built a world to end all competition.

You eat Baked Mutton.

+10 XP for two hours

This food effect does not stack.

I pumped one fist then growled low. “Food buffs. Hell yeah.”

A bowl of plump red apples and juicy-looking pears rested next to the meat tray. I lifted the corner of a linen cloth stuffed into a basket to reveal crusty bread, still warm from the oven.

I chewed the meat for an eternity, reveling in its wholesomeness, then tried again. “Hello? Is anybody home?”

A closed door stood on the opposite end of the kitchen. No light seeped beneath. A side door led out of the house, also closed. Maybe I was alone.

But in a world as genuine as Enora had proven so far, it made no sense. The food was fresh. The meat warm. Where was the person who’d prepared it? Were they lying in wait? Hiding with cutlery in hand hoping I’d leave without incident?

A pitcher of warm milk sat off to one side. I didn't see any cups so I grabbed the whole thing and carried it into the sitting room. The wooden chairs looked hard, but my attention whipped to a rocker knocked onto its side next to the fire.

Uh-oh.

I eased the rocking chair upright then slid into it to consider my options. Before long, the warm fire coddled my feet through my cheap leather shoes. I yawned. My eyes blinked then watered.

No time for a nap, kid. I set my hands on the arms of the chair to push to my feet when a sharp pain erupted in one side of my neck.

-2 HP

My eyes snapped open.

A little girl leaned over me, her eyes level to mine. They were wide and wild. Her mouth turned down in a sour grimace. She couldn't have been more than nine. She pressed a blade against my neck.

“Why did you come here?”

“Whoa, hon,” I raised my hands, but she pressed the flat of the cold blade harder against my flesh. I sat back. One hand dropped onto the hilt of my sword, but I didn’t dare grasp it. I winked my eyes in succession.

Pim

Level 1 Human

(No Class Selected)

“Stop your reading!” The knife dug deeper into my neck. Another damage notification popped up. But I’d already regained the first two hit points, so I didn’t panic. The pounding of my heart slowed a bit.

“Hey, Pim. I didn't know anyone lived here.”

“You eat from our table. You steal our milk.”

I hadn’t thought that lie through.

The girl’s hand quivered, and the blade danced against my artery. Tears welled in her eyes. I raised my hand from the hilt and set it on the arm of the chair.

“Hey, I have money. I'll pay for what I ate. Where are your parents? I'll explain.”

“You would speak to my parents?”

“I’ll speak to anyone if you get this knife off my neck.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “You are not with them?” The blade relaxed, but she didn’t pull it away.

“Aren’t with who? I'm not with anyone. I've been lost alone in the woods all day. I was hungry, is all. Didn’t you hear me knocking?”

“So many in the woods. Where do they all come from?”

The girl drew the knife away from my neck. She took a step back but clutched it in both hands, keeping it between her and me.

“How many?”

Pim concentrated. Her eyes winked in succession then flitted left-to-right.

Like she’s reading! NPC’s have interfaces? They can analyze? WTF?

She blinked again, dismissing whatever she’d been reading. Her eyes focused on me, and part of me wept at her pathetic disposition. Loose strands dangled from her ponytail. Her face was smeared and bloody, but I didn’t see any cuts or abrasions. The cloth covering her right shoulder was torn.

Like someone grabbed it.

“Just tell me what I have to do to repay you for my intrusion.”

Her eyes brightened, but the lines of her lips remained flat.

“Okay.” She tucked the knife into her pocket. “Come, quickly.”

Pim led me out of the sitting room and through the kitchen. An open door revealed an unlit, narrow staircase. A sense of foreboding crept over me, but then she tugged at my hand before I could think about it.

We sped across the kitchen, then through the door leading into the night.

Darkness dominated the countryside, and a pair of spherical ghosts sent muted glows through the cloud cover overhead.

Two moons?

She led me up the path, and I didn’t resist. I couldn't see shit, but Pim knew where she was going. As we hustled along, I checked my log.

No notifications.

“It is here.” Her voice broke. She stopped so suddenly, I nearly took us both to the ground, but I steadied then gripped her shoulders to keep her upright. She quivered in rigid fear.

On the grass to the side of the path lay a huddled form. Pim jutted a crooked finger. Sweeping my hands around to position her behind me, I crept forward.

One of the moons broke free of the clouds to paint a woman in a flowered dress in its bright white glow. Dark stains covered her torso where a gash tore the garment from her navel to her rib cage. Her mouth gaped wide in eternal terror, teeth white against the shadows. She stared as if searching for secrets among the hidden moons through her lifeless eyes.

Her mother. Dammit.

A few steps beyond, a man lay face down in the dirt, a pitchfork loosely grasped in one hand. A concave wound split the back of his head.

I winced.

“Can you help them?”

Although I hadn’t realized I’d drawn her close, I squeezed. “I'm so sorry.”

You’re apologizing to an NPC. Try to keep perspective.

When I relaxed my grip, she tilted her head up. “You are of the Mythics, no? You can help them.”

“Mythics? What kind of mythics?”

The question hung unanswered in my interface when Pim continued.

“The Shénhuà saved the dead all the time. Baba used to tell me all about them. Their magic was powerful. He said—”

My interface popped up a new pane.

You are being offered a quest.

Avenging Angel

Put an end to the murders in the Fertile Terraces.

Reward: 2,000 XP

A choice between weapons that will allow you to choose between starter classes.

Would you like to accept this quest?

The sudden offer tweaked my brain. The timing struck me as off. Like it’d interrupted our conversation. But the rewards seemed huge. 2,000 XP would get me another level in a hurry.

“Can you help them?” Pim sounded so sincere, so confident. But I was powerless. Hell, I was barely out of the gates, even less endowed with resurrection spells. I relaxed my hold then moved her aside, motioning for her to stay put while I investigated. The woman's body glowed purple when I approached, just like the zombie I’d finished off in the hut. I took it as an indication the corpse was lootable, but what would Pim think of my going through her mother’s pockets?

Hard pass.

Kneeling down I focused again just on the info.

Deeta

This NPC is dead.

No shit, Sherlock.

“You can help, right?”

A shiver twirled around and down my spine when an epiphany struck. There I crouched in the dark with a girl whose parents lay butchered. But what if the people who’d done this still lingered?

I shot up.

“Who did this?”

“Others.”

“Others… like me?”

“I didn’t analyze them. But they couldn’t be like you. They did come out of the forest. At first, they left us alone. Then they wanted inside.” The girl shivered.

The text in my interface flashed, and when I eyed it, it returned to focus.

Would you like to accept this quest?

Yes/No

I accepted.

“My cousins are on the other hill. I don't want them to be hurt.”

Here stood a child whose parents had just been murdered, and her thoughts had already turned to her cousins. What a sweet…

NPC? My inner critic spoke.

Good point. Why was I treating her like a little girl when I needed to be watching my back? “How long have they been gone?”

She raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Not long.”

I clutched her shoulders. “An hour? Five minutes?”

“Closer to the second. Will you stop them?”

“I’ll help you. But I need to know where they went.”

“I would help you.”

“Sorry, I'm the hero here. You're nine. Do you know what your job is?”

She held up the knife, a question in her eyes.

“No.” I laughed. “Nine-year-olds only have one job. That's to stay alive. Grow up, then you can be the hero. But right now, I need you to stay safe. Go back upstairs. Hide. If I don't come back, then don't come out until morning. Wait until you see somebody you know, then run to them.”

Pim sighed. A tear welled in one eye, and despite her NPC existence, my heart thumped an extra beat. The game was getting to me—which was kind of kick ass.

She gave a curt nod. “You’ll come back?”

“I’ll try. Now, go.”

I didn't stick around to see if she listened.

I considered scouring the house for armor or a thick robe, but half a day in Enora made it pretty damned clear nothing would be so easy. I gripped the pommel on my unbalanced sword to ensure it still dangled there—as if its weight wasn’t assurance enough. My clothes weren’t going to provide much in the way of protection, but a shitty sword was better than a broken staff.

The night darkened further when the moons retreated behind a thick line of clouds. I navigated the winding paths of the terraced hillside in the direction Pim indicated when she mentioned her cousins. My eyes revealed little, so I focused on my ears.

Wind. The occasional chirp. The odd sheep bleating.

A lower structure came into view as I moved away from the farm. Probably a shelter for the sheep. Why did they still wander the field?

Then I recalled the bloody corpse of their shepherd—Pim’s father.

By the time I reached the road, I wished I had brought the lamp from the farmhouse.

Then I considered how I’d stand out with a light bouncing with my every step. The darkness was my shield.

“You got a two-hander.” The voice came low, grumbling. “How’d you pull that off?”

My shoulders flinched.

So much for the element of surprise.

A man leaned against a rickety fence. The crooked smile I spied despite the cover of night matched his cocky tone. As I focused on him, the shadows slipped away to reveal angular features. High cheekbones. A long chin.

A breach in the clouds allowed the light from the twin moons to filter down and revealed the tips of high, pointed ears. The whites of his eyes shone clear. Despite his elven heritage, I twitched with an instant ping of familiarity.

Realization dawned on his features. “Oh, shit! What are the chances? Kyra?”

That voice. That…

A moon broke free to wash over his features, and it was like a fog lifted as familiarity bloomed into recognition. “Kip?”

D-bag numero uno. The baggiest of all bags.

Although I wouldn’t have thought it possible, his smile widened. “Sure is, boss lady. Wow, talk about your opportunities.”

I caught the meaning of his cocky tone and that Cheshire Cat smile a moment too late. Kip drew his hand from behind his back then lunged. A glint of silver caught the moonlight.

I countered with the clumsy broadsword clutched in a two-handed grip to drive it toward his chest. The asshole elf slipped to one side, spun so his shoulder bumped mine, then knocked me off kilter as he whirled behind in a display of agility. His grunt was followed by an explosion of pain like I’d never known tearing up my spine. Red lettering absent the panes I’d grown accustomed to in my interface popped into my field of vision then rose skyward.

BigDaddyKipper uses Backstab.

Critical Hit!

-41 HP

The pain radiated to my chest, then I peered down to find a tip of silvery metal protruding from my chest. It tore free, then my knees buckled. My lungs hitched, the breath caught in my throat. I heaved for air as my hands planted in the grass. Another slash crossed my lower back.

You have received a mortal wound. Without immediate healing, you will perish.

-29 HP

-12 HP (Bleed)

My sword clattered to the ground.

“It’s like I’ve waited all my life to do something like this, boss lady.”

Rage consumed me.

Something slammed into my back and forced me onto my face. Kip pinned his boot on the back of my neck.

Although my head turned to one side, the world spun to the other. My heart thumped in a sprint that pounded my ribs.

The edges of my field of vision were cast in a pulsing red frame matching my fury.

A parade of bleed notifications popped into the dark night before me then sped skyward.

-2 HP (Bleed)

-2 HP (Bleed)

“You come along a year after me, and they promote you through some fucking Affirmative Action or Equal Rights bullshit. I ran that place before you showed up. And you thought you wouldn’t pay?”

When I tried to roll, most of the muscles in my back tensed in protest, but my enemy noticed the effort. He shoved his boot down, burying my face into the stones and hard packed soil.

I didn’t know how Kip, King of Douchebags, had already learned this Backstab skill, but it was academic at this point.

I will fucking end you, you fucking ingrate bastard.

But in an infuriating splurge of reality, the words remained in my head, my lips unable to utter them.

“Well, today you pay. And tomorrow, you can’t do anything about it. After all, it’s just a game, isn’t it?”

The coppery taste of blood in my mouth slithered down my throat when I swallowed hard, then the breath hitched in my lungs with finality.

“For future reference, you might want to use a different name. Maybe learn how to do player searches, because there’s more of this to come if you’re going to live in my world.” He clutched my hair then wound it around his fist to yank my head back. “Ray says hello.”

Despite the blade slipping into the back of my neck, the intense pain detonated in my chest.

11

Utter blackness gave way to blurry surroundings as my heartbeat thumped at odd intervals.

You have failed the quest:

Avenging Angel

You failed to put an end to the murders in the Fertile Terraces.

My chest heaved, but I sensed no movement. Gone was the night air and the smell of farmlands. The familiar scent of musty furs and dank air wafted to my nostrils as I blinked my eyes to clear the fog.

A starter cabin.

My interface popped up with a new message.

You have died.

Since you didn’t reach level 10, you must roll a new character. Focus HERE to begin.

Although I knew what had just happened, a dark corner of my brain needed to see it again.

BigDaddyKipper

Shade Elf

Level 7 Assassin

Fury rose. My heart gave another irregular thump as I relived the killing blow. I’d spent hours of my day off cleaning up after the bastard, then he’d found and murdered me. The player search he’d mentioned wouldn’t have helped if he couldn’t travel to me, unless…

A first day fluke where the timed logins of players across the planet meant a lower population than the game would soon enjoy had planted the bastard in the same starting area. I was too wrapped up in my desire for revenge to consider the odds.

That asshole.

Kip Colin and Trip Hopkins had skipped out together instead of coming in to work. Since there’d been no sign of Trip, I figured they’d been unable to pick the same starting continent, as expected. This bit of logic confirmed it for me. I’d just gotten unlucky, and since I’d rolled myself to look like I did on the outside world Kip recognized and dispatched me.

My blood boiled.

A sudden rush of pain my chest brought me upright in the starter cabin’s furs. I patted my chest, but sensed nothing out of place.

What?

Kip’s face—his usual, ugly work face—rose in my mind. He knew I’d have to go into the office and laugh it off. Complaints would make me look childish. That the pain he’d inflicted receded so suddenly and my response to it served as confirmation Infinity Designs managed to soften the psychological blows experienced in-game.

Then why is my chest on fire?

I wanted my anger. I struggled against the coding suppressing it, trying to get me to relax. Kip’s ass would be mine. If he thought he could gank me like that and—

A stranger would’ve been one thing, but he’d reveled in damaging me in a way he never could in the outside world. Which left me wondering about Kip’s mental stability.

Although the resemblance between his avatar and his physical form made him recognizable, he’d rolled a different race. And the moment of recognition had lent him the time he needed to finish me.

That bastard.

A new thought occurred. Raymond. How many times had Carol mused aloud about her suspicions that the boss snooped on our text messages? And hadn’t I told her what continent I was on? I couldn’t manufacture a suspicion as to why she’d tell them anything. She wouldn’t.

Ray had intercepted our messages and texted his buddies. It was a god-damned conspiracy.

Kip must have logged out for dinner, seen Ray's text, then realized I was on the same continent. So, he’d laid a trap, analyzed me as I approached in the darkness, then unspooled my progress. My heart skipped a beat, then tightened, but the sensation was distant. Strangely removed.

The thought of returning to work and hearing their snickering, seeing those knowing expressions, suffering their snobbery, caused my temples to pound.

I was going to burst out of that hut and plow through the woods.

Whatever lurked there would die. I’d killed it all once before and I would kill it again. But this time I’d grind out the mobs with intention. To get levels. To gain new abilities.

Then I would do some more killing. And a little extra for good measure. I’d need as much XP as I could rack up before I found them. Fuck it, if they were going to skip work and play all day just to screw me over, I would skip tomorrow! I would play all day while they dicked around at work laughing about how they got the jump on me.

I’d be waiting for him when he logged back in, if I had to skip every meal and mainline caffeine. I’d have twice Kip’s levels.

I fantasized about sliding a fresh new blade into his back and seeing how he liked it. Or maybe I’d pick up spells then melt his ugly mug. And when I returned to work the following day, we’d see who was laughing.

The message flashed again.

You have died.

Since you didn’t reach level 10, you must roll a new character. Focus HERE to begin.

I wasn’t going to be in the same forest. I wouldn’t be able to chase Kip down.

Shit!

Thus ended the typical Kyra rage-tidying.

I’d worked myself up into what my deceased southern uncle would have called a righteous fury for nothing. My face boiled with heat. My fists clenched, I pounded my legs with abandon.

“You fucking asshole! You son of a bitch! I’m gonna—” Inside the virtual world, my breath hitched in my chest then a distant hand gripped my heart with new intensity. But my chest hadn’t hitched. My heart hadn’t—

The tightness cranked up to ten.

I checked my pain mitigation levels in a desperate hope I was misinterpreting the strange sensation.

A new window popped up in my interface.

Warning: Arrhythmia detected.

Your pod has reported an anomaly in your biometric readings. You will be logged out. It is recommended you contact paramedics from your pod immediately.

I pressed my hand to my chest as my throat closed up. I yanked away the fur.

A small candle burned in the corner of the hut, but its flame vanished when Lucera materialized then knelt beside me, a troubled expression twisting her features.

“Child?” She seemed just as worried as I was. I tried to say something to her, but my breath caught in my chest. “I am logging you out. You must—"

When the final grip of the invisible hand squeezed the erupting heart in the outside world, I knew it was over.

The bastard had killed me.

12

White. Sterile. A room, apparent only by the gray tint where the corners of the floor met the walls. One scent, strengthened by the lack of competing scents. Steam rising from its source, the black liquid in a pristine coffee cup matching the white table.

Light cut into frames in the far corner brought my gaze around to a huge bay window. The stark green of beautiful oaks lined a sidewalk outside, dwarfed by shining high-rises cut in post-modern angles. Crowds milled about the walkway in a city I didn’t recognize.

If this is Heaven, they got it all wrong. All. Of. It.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The ethereal silence spooked me. I raised one hand, rubbed my palm over the center of my chest, then sighed with relief when I detected a slow, steady beat.

The name for when things got weirder the more life-like they became evaded me. Some kind of valley effect? I couldn’t recall exactly. But the feeling was undeniable—a spooky air lingering like mannequin silhouettes in a department store window after closing, when the lights were out.

Metal squeaked behind me. A door I hadn’t noticed clicked shut.

“Kyra, I presume.”

I lowered my hand from my chest then wheeled. My backside rested on the wide window sill.

His voice was deep. He boasted a thick head of brown wavy hair. Sharp eyes targeted me as a chin one could strike a match on tilted up. The image from a memory in Carol’s office cycled into my mind as he crossed the shining white floor. He peered out the window beside me.

“Man, I don’t miss scenes like this.”

I tilted my head. “I know you. The one from the Enora prerelease stream?”

“Yeah. Tak mentioned that.”

Takemoto?

“Gemini Fowler.” He stuck his hand out like we were in a business meeting, but his easy smile didn’t match that impression.

I offered him the lone chair. “You wanna sit?”

“I think you’ll need it more than I do.”

“God, you’re right.” I sank down, then rested my head in my hands and my elbows on the table as the facts started to piece together.

“It’s coming back now?”

“I was brutalized. Game filters or no, it never left. How are you here? Do I just call you Gemini?”

He nodded. “Just Gemini. They opened a portal outside the room for me. We didn’t want to freak you out by popping it open in here.”

“It’s a little late to worry about freaking me out.”

“Right.” He crossed his arms and leaned to look over the lower lip of the window to the street below.

“Where am I?”

He turned then eyed the cup on the table.

“Hey, you got marshmallows.” How I’d mistaken the scent of hot cocoa for coffee I didn’t know. “Don’t let it get cold.”

I didn’t care if it turned to ice. The glare I shot him should have been enough to send him back to wherever he came from, but he just smiled.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry if I seem evasive. It’s not every day I find myself playing messenger boy.”

I scanned his features, and when I recalled the story I’d read about him on the Infinity site, my heart sank. Here was the man who’d been terminally ill and who’d had his consciousness transferred into a virtual world. As crazy as I’d thought it was, the new reality punching me in the brain raised the sentiment to a new level of psycho.

“I’m dead.”

He nodded.

“In my pod.”

“It’s been a few hours in the outside world. You’re not in the pod anymore. They sent in paramedics, but the system knew it was too late.”

“The system?”

“The AI. It detected—”

“I got a warning. How has it been a few hours when I just woke up standing at that window two minutes ago?”

“I had business in Rubal. This meeting was arranged at the last minute. Usually, I’d have told them to pound sand, but when they told me what happened to you—well, call me a kindred spirit.”

I frowned. A tear welled in one eye. Something about being in a virtual room and having such a common biological function occur infuriated me.

“Besides, Takemoto was pretty broken up about it—and not just because it was opening day. It’s unlike him. He was going to transfer in, but I have a unique perspective.”

The steam rising from the cup had faded. I took a sip, forced my focus despite the amazing thick, chocolate, taste, then raised my eyebrows. “Hey, I don’t mean to be a b—”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Considering your circumstances, you should feel fine about speaking freely. Lace in some curse words if you’re feeling it. I’d be pissed.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“When your vitals dropped, the AI initiated a transfer.”

“Transfer.” I turned my head then cocked my chin toward the window. “But we’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. This isn’t Enora.”

He chuckled, then his expression drooped and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. It’s not funny, I know.”

“Well, it was a little funny. Where am I?”

“It’s a new virtual world. A test bed for a bigger project.”

“And you’re here to indoctrinate me?” When he hesitated at my word usage, I prodded. “Why don’t you tell me what Nokuro Takemoto sent you to say.”

“The company would like to assist with funeral arrangements. They can help you get your stuff willed to your family or whatever. We couldn’t find any, but if you can provide contact information…”

I shook my head then set the cup on the table with a clank.

“Forget about my stuff for a minute. What happens to me?”

“Infinity has been constructing servers with worlds like Earth.” He gestured toward the window. “Most people who find out they can cheat death aren’t going to choose a violent game world for their chosen environment.”

The ghost of sensation when a dagger slipped into my back then twisted caused an echo of discomfort. “Violent is an apt description.”

He nodded. “You should try it without pain mitigation. But I noticed you set yours at eighty-percent. As I understand it, that’s pretty brave.”

I shrugged.

“Modest too, I see.” He smiled like there was some kind of inside joke, but I didn’t catch it because I barely registered the words. Why wasn’t I feeling more?

“Are they suppressing my emotions?”

He shook his head. “You’re not human anymore, Kyra. You don’t have hormones or any other biology that causes emotions. But I guess that isn’t what you asked. Your emotions are simulated, and you’ll probably never notice the difference. They aren’t suppressing anything, though. You’re probably just absorbing it. I can’t imagine. I had months to prepare.”

He was right. It must not have been registering because of all the thoughts streaming through my mind at four million miles per hour, none centered around what I’d lost.

Sure, it was over. But that meant there’d be no more workdays. No mornings at the gym. I’d miss the weekend climbing trips. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to suffer the wry grins of the douchebags at work tomorrow.

But what would I do?

“What’s next for me? Life in that city outside?”

He crouched and dropped his forearms on the table to balance himself as he stared up at me. His grin warmed my cheeks. Of all the times to be… I forced the sensation down.

“Depends on what you want. I mean, would you prefer to tap a keyboard and work for other people, or maybe take up arms and kick a little ass?”

My eyebrows shot up. “Wait. What?”

13

“They wound back some video of your first day in my world. Watching you, I recalled my initiation in the Dark Wood. My junk starter weapon. Mean little beasts. Where yours were scorpion beetles, I faced a spider whose babies burst from its pouch when I killed it and started stinging my arms. God, I hated spiders.” He took on a distant gaze aimed at the ceiling. “You might find this funny. A kid also put a knife to my throat.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better? I’m dead and you’re talking about a game.”

“Sorry. This is a first for me. I can see how you’d want me to cut to it.” He stood. “Here's the deal, these afterlife servers are for people who want to keep in touch with the outside world. You can work virtually. Earn money. Spend it in the new world on things you can get outside. You don’t have to eat, but you can, and I hear the food is dope.

“Those people on the streets outside are beta testers. One day, their replacements can be whoever they want. No stats, no game systems. If that’s the life for you, you can choose it. I’m sure Infinity will give you a nice nest egg to keep from getting sued. But when I saw how you pulled the victory against that zombie out of your backside, how you survived the bees on instinct alone, all of it… well, you reminded me of people I admire.”

"I guess I should take that as a compliment.”

He frowned. “No. But I’m level 45. I have a wife and a child in my new world. I’ve taken on some crazy shit, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. Hell, Nokuro offered me the chance, and, well, let’s just say my reply involved choice words you don’t say around grandma.”

“Enora is that cool, huh?”

A wide grin revealed white Chicklet teeth. “It’s funny you put it that way. The truth is, sometimes you get your heart ripped out and eaten by a pack of wolves.” I got the impression that was not a metaphor. “But sometimes it's beautiful. Like that farmland with the sunset. The scared little girl.”

“What happened to her?”

“She’s still there, still scared. And beings like her have become as real to me as you are. There’s no describing it. I never imagined it would happen, but Enora became my world, and its people became my people.”

“She isn't real. It's just a game.”

“Then I guess I'm not real, either.”

“No, I guess you're not.”

He went stoic. Controlled. I imagined solid ice water in his veins. It was my turn to see myself in him, instead of the other way around.

“Maybe I should be thanking you.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up in a goofy sort of smile. It was contagious. “Like I said. I’d be pissed. Gratitude wouldn’t be in my vocabulary.”

“Thanks for understanding. So, you’re telling me I could live in Enora, like you, instead of existing in an earth-like world. And Enora gets better?”

“A lot better. And you have a distinct advantage I didn’t enjoy.”

“What’s that?”

“If I’d died before reaching level 10, Enora would’ve killed me. I’d have been wiped.”

“Holy shit. You must really be a survivor.”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “Say, you were a Light of Babylon player, right?”

I nodded.

“Me, too. And it’s a piece of shit next to Enora.”

“So I saw.”

“You’ve seen exactly shit, Kyra. I didn't have much to live for, you know. I had a girlfriend right before I crossed over. I’ll be seeing her in-game soon, but that part of my life is over. My past life sucked. The redundancy. The lack of new challenges. Now there are people I care about. Things I believe in. Things I've sacrificed for. I like to think I’m a better person for it.”

“Because of a video game?”

“You’ve seen the inside. Does it seem so ridiculous? I know what it’s like to lose what you’re used to. To wallow in regret over what was. Maybe your life was stellar and you’ll have people to miss. But after seeing you play and checking your ranks in LOB, I can tell you with near certainty that you’ll excel in Enora. And when you’re looking back a month from now—in game time—you won’t give a damn what you were used to. Life on the outside suffers in comparison.”

The thump of my heart rose to my consciousness. I was worked up, but it felt… good.

He shook his head. “Damn, I’m not sure I was supposed to sway you.”

“Too late. Tell me, do you miss your handheld?”

“Shit, no. That’s one of those things you realize after you’ve been in the world for a while. People in the outside world didn’t talk to each other anymore. Their heads were always down. Their posture so ruined by craning their necks. I wouldn’t be surprised if they passed the trait to their children. I get all these little images of the things I don’t miss, then I kiss my son on the forehead.”

“You can have children in Enora?”

He shook his head. “No. Well, yes. I can. But people who don’t live there aren’t allowed.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“They’d allow you to have kids, I’m sure. Shit, you’re in a position of power. You could probably ask for whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t give you a huge in-game advantage.”

“Is there a birth control checkbox?”

Gemini laughed so loud, it echoed through the room and reverberated off the pristine walls. “You could totally ask for that.”

“Would they let me start where I left off?”

He shook his head. “That character’s been wiped. Besides, one of my companions is from another continent and, if you’re willing to give it a shot, you might like adventuring there. If it were up to me, I’d bring you to Rubal. Alas, Takemoto is a dick about some things. So, although it’ll be hell, I think it’ll put you in a position to do some things I haven’t gotten around to.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not fucking telling you.” He grinned.

I liked him.

“I think I prefer it that way.”

He drummed his fingers on the table from his crouch then tilted his head to one side. “I thought you might.”

“So, it’ll be tough?”

His head lolled. “You have no idea.”

“And if I choose city life? What’s the upside?”

“When does boredom and repetition ever show an upside, Kyra? Look, screw their rules. I’m telling you straight out. A life in one of these earth-like worlds would be a waste for you. If nothing else, try out Enora, and if you hate it, they can transfer you.”

“That’s an option?”

“Again, you’re in the power position. They’re going to be up to their necks in legal, and the only way out is via your consent to drop it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And before you get suspicious thoughts, I don’t really care if you sue them or not. I have no skin in this game, and the two reasons I’m here are that an old friend who saved my life asked, and that I saw your play footage.”

“I thought my play sucked.”

“So will just about everyone who plays the Dark Levels. Don’t let it get you down.”

“Sounds like an offer too good to refuse. What about my stuff, funeral arrangements and all that?”

“If you don’t want to will it to anyone, let Infinity handle it. Let them do the work. Keep them on their toes. Maybe Takemoto can sell off your stuff and convert it into to Enora’s currency when you’ve reached a certain level. But I think the best thing you can do is not think about it.”

I smiled.

Gemini noticed. “What’re you thinking?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just thought of a friend who’d appreciate my fancy new pod.” I paused. “Okay. Tell me how to get ahead. You’re the pro. What do I need to do?”

“Sorry, Kyra.” He looked around like someone was watching us. “I don’t want to shit on my friend. She’s too awesome. And the truth is, you’ll thank me later for making you figure it out for yourself.”

I frowned.

His eyebrow cocked in response. He did that thing where he checked over his shoulder again. “Tell you what. I will give you a hint.”

I perked up. “Yeah?”

“If you receive a quest about something called Shénhuà, accept and complete it. No matter what.”

“What’s it mean?”

He chuckled. “No fucking way. Figure it out for yourself. My understanding is new players won’t be experiencing it, but you’re part of Enora now. Something tells me you’ll have chances they don’t. Just… trust me.”

“The girl, Pim, mentioned the Mythics. I got a quest that struck me as odd in its timing. I just had”—I rubbed my fingers and thumbs together—“this sense it was off.”

“Like a distraction?” He nodded. “Yeah, I think they’re crazy. There’s so much lore surrounding the Shénhuà ingrained in the world, but they’re going to stifle it for regular players. I don’t understand it, because it only benefits me. And maybe you. But hey, that’s all I can say. You’ll see.”

“So, I’m going in blind. And if this was a mistake, they can pull me out?”

“If it makes any difference to you, I wouldn't change my life for the world.”

“Yeah. You said. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now.”

“All right, Gemini. I’ll do it.” I downed the last of the cocoa. “I choose Enora.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will. But I’m used to that. Will I ever see you again?”

“Maybe if you reach Rubal, but don’t make it a mission or anything. Players are locked out for now. Your life will be long. Try to enjoy it. Stack the quests and make your mark. And remember, Shénhuà is a good thing.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you ready?”

“No, but let’s do it.”

“All right.”

I grasped his forearm as a thought caused a hitch in my heartbeat. “Wait.”

He glanced at my hand. “Yeah?”

“The guy who killed me works at my office. I don’t want anyone knowing I survived. Especially him. So, whatever deal you worked out with Infinity Designs to stream your life? I want no part of it. Let him swallow his deceit.”

“That’s an interesting form of revenge. Guilt.”

“Oh, that’s not it at all.”

“What is it, then?”

“Someday we might cross paths again, and I don’t want him to see me coming.”

“You know the land masses of Enora make Earth look like a tiny island, right?”

I shrugged. “Fate has a funny way.”

“What you’re talking about is karma. And I like it.” He crossed his arms and scanned me. After a few seconds, he tapped his foot, then his eyes moved up and to the right like he was checking the time.

“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll let my friend know. Now, I’m going back to my portal. You’ll flash out in a minute. But I’ll give you one more piece of advice. The best I got when I entered the world.”

“What’s that?”

“Make friends, Kyra. You’ll need them.” He grasped my shoulder.

I set my hand on top of his. “Thanks, Gemini.”

After a curt nod, he turned then strode through the door. A reflection of azure light flashed against its white surface, then it was gone. And so was Gemini Fowler.

The white room faded to black, then a high white star cast light and warmth over me.

I stood barefoot in a desert of blinding yellow sand.

14

“Welcome back, Kyra.”

I spun to find Lucera standing outside a tall sienna tent, its pegs tapped into the sand. The canvas rippled in the same breeze that sent sand to bite my cheeks. She drew the flap aside then motioned for me to enter.

The cooler interior lifted a weight from my shoulders. The heat outside was stifling. A small wooden cot and a stool were the lone furnishings.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you, Kyra. But know you are not the first.”

“Yeah. I just met him.”

Lucera smiled, and the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. Despite the subliminal weight of my losses, my mind still found a place for awe at the sight.

“Do you want to take some time to absorb what happened?”

I shook my head. “I’d just as soon not dwell on it.” I decided to feed my desire to break shit.

She nodded her understanding. Words popped up in a translucent frame in a HUD window.

Please state or spell your chosen name.

Although I didn’t want Kip and company knowing I’d survived, I liked my name, and it wasn’t like they’d search for me again. Besides, when I killed Kip, I wanted to remind him about the player search function he’d rubbed in my face.

“K-y-r-a.”

Please speak your name for phonetic recognition.

“Kyra.”

Hello, Kyra, do you wish to use a surname?

“No.” I wouldn’t be that obvious.

“Interesting choice,” said Lucera.

“Thanks?” It came out more as a question.

She waved a hand and a list appeared. “These are the races available in this starting zone.”

I chose. “Shade elf.”

“Another interesting choice.” She reached out and pinched me again.

“Ouch, lady.”

A bruise welled up when she removed her fingers. The purplish hue spread outward from the impact point, covering my arm, then creeping up to my shoulder before spreading across my body. I pulled my homespun shirt to watch it spread across my chest. Jet black curls crept down then cascaded over my shoulders.

Lucera grew shorter, and I blanched when I realized the opposite had occurred. My arms and legs were long and lean. In the outside world, I was only five-four. My muscles a bit thicker.

If anyone saw me at a rugby match, they’d hope I was on their team. I gave myself a long gander in my Character Tab. The face was mine but wore a scarier, natural scowl. That fit my mood, if nothing else. No one would recognize me.

“Can I be a little less twiggy?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, there are limits imposed by race. But take solace that your appearance will become more substantial with Strength and Constitution increases.”

I opened my interface and scanned my class information.

Shade Elf

Known for offensive prowess of both magical and physical varieties, the Shade Elves are an isolated race who use shadows whenever possible to achieve their goals.

“This’ll work.”

“Very well. Shall we spin the weapon wheel?”

“Let's roll.”

The window opened again as she brought her hands together, and the images of weapons scrolled past.

Come on, nunchucks.

The mallet would've worked too. Or those funky brass knuckles. The scrolling slowed then rested, and my new weapon materialized above Lucera’s outstretched hands.

Missing Monk’s Bo staff

Level 1

Durability 10 of 10

Physical Damage: 3-4

“Mother fucker! I got the stick again?”

“This is quite rare. Solara truly smiles upon you.” The shit-eating grin on her face made it hard to take her seriously. Then I realized why. The extension of the AI was actually teasing me.

“You know this broke last time.”

Her eyelids lowered to half-mast then she gave a bow. “And yet you are both whole again.”

I snatched the stick. “Son of a bitch.”

15

I cursed Gemini Fowler when the sweat enveloped me. This was the starting area he’d talked them into?

After choosing my weapon, Lucera prompted me to roll for attribute points. This time I only got two. So much for fresh freaking starts. The unpleasant thoughts and silent curse words filled my brain once more. If only I’d insisted on meeting with the Infinity developers. We’d see about two attribute points when I threatened to sue their asses back to the Stone Age.

As if I would ever. Like it or not, even a couple of years working with douches like Kip hadn’t managed to kill my sense of propriety. Besides, why take the grudge out on anyone else? And what made me think I could sue. It wasn’t like I could log back out to my pod and go get a lawyer.

Still, I was on my own. In a god-damned desert. Sweating rivers.

The soles of my feet burned where the sand slipped between the bottoms of my crappy sandals and the soft flesh.

You have discovered the Kanchi Desert.

25 XP

Sand as far as the eye can see.

After I scaled one of the larger dunes, I stood with hands on hips, huffing. My Stamina meter blinked as I scanned the desert. Where the thick forest of the last starter area hardly allowed me to see the sky, my sight line here carried to the horizon. Desert or not, it was beautiful.

All sides of my throat seemed to close in and scratch against each other like sandpaper when I tried to swallow. For all of her matronly fretting, Lucera hadn't offered anything in the way of material assistance. I should have asked for some water.

As if she’d have given me anything. They call the first ten levels “hardcore” for a reason.

I’d been so disoriented after my actual death that I left my typical, meticulous tendencies behind, too. I cursed myself for not searching the tent. If nothing else I could have ripped it up and made a nice sun shade out of it.

The boiling wind whipped sand off the tops of the dunes then sprayed it into my eyes. I took that as a personal affront. Like it was me versus the AI. Okay, so maybe I should’ve stayed in that little white room to mourn the loss of what had passed for my life before setting out.

Two thoughts slipped into my mind too fast to separate them, leaving me even more confused.

The first:

Crying about it now isn’t going to get you out of this desert.

The second:

I might die out here. But on the bright side, I could roll again.

Funny how the prospect of resurrection tamped down fear. At least the resurrection sickness Lucera promised wouldn’t start until I survived level 10. Which made sense. Rolling a new character and losing everything you’d gained was penalty enough, until then. But if I understood, each death once my character was past that mark and locked in would come with longer and longer bouts of the shit until some reset point.

Sweat salting my eyes, my lungs fighting in desperate heaves to filter oxygen from the thick air, and my hamstrings burning with each step, I didn’t want to imagine what hell resurrection sickness might be.

As I stomped down the face of the next dune the sand slid beneath me. I tumbled and rolled, then a little avalanche of sand piled up behind me.

Maybe I should just sit here until the storm’s over.

It wasn’t quicksand, yet the surface beneath continued sifting and my ass sank. With a low churning sound, the grains at the base of the dune swirled down. I clutched wildly for something to grasp, but there was nothing. I ended up pulling more sand… into a sinkhole.

I was little more than a stone in an hourglass—and my time was up. I heaved in a deep breath as darkness engulfed my face. My arms flailed somewhere above, but they might as well have been in a different world.

One upside to this whole disaster—among the burning heat, the sinking sands, and my miserable struggle to stay alive, I had briefly forgotten how upset I was about being dead.

16

The graceless impact of my backside sent a shockwave up my spine that cascaded into eruptions reaching the tips of my fingers and toes before reversing course.

Lovely.

My body convulsed in response, and a scream was more than I could muster.

Gradually, the shower of sand impacting the crown of my head reduced to a trickle. I was not having a good day.

You have discovered the Undersands.

125 XP

These sand-filled caverns beneath the deserts of Rubal were carved long ago by underground rivers.

Although I’d escaped the desert above, sand was everywhere. I couldn’t blink it from my eyes. It filled my pockets. It followed the part in my hair. It was agony. I brushed myself off frantically and beat my hands against my pants then I tried my face again. But the more I touched, the worse it got.

Finally, the tears dislodged some of the grit from my eyes, and the blinding pain subsided to a slow and constant ache. Enora would never be boring. About that, Gemini Fowler had been right.

I scanned the dimly-lit cavern with the miniature dune I’d created in the center. A shaft of light cut through the trickle of sparkling sand to reveal stony walls with layers of sediment painted different colors, ranging from chocolate brown on top to rich sienna in the middle to tan at the bottom.

If Enora was going to keep pulling the rug out from under me, at least it kept dumping me in some cool places.

Not.

Something skittered in the shadows behind me. I snapped to the present. My eyes weren’t adjusted, and that side of the cavern was pitch black.

That’s what you get for staring at the sparkly sand.

Another scuttling, dragging sound came from the opposite side. Whatever it was had claws. And I had dropped my weapon while I was getting sucked down the drain. Hell, I wasn’t even sure my staff had followed me down.

I wasn’t waiting around to identify the threat. As the scratching grew louder, I scurried back up the loose sand pile, then plunged my hands in.

Although I moved my lips, very little sound emitted. “C’mon, ya shit. Where are ya?”

Of all the times to play Needle in a Haystack.

You have unlocked the Inspect skill.

Your inspection skill is Rank 1.

+1% chance to discern hidden objects.

The reminder of my skill resets took me miles toward the lightening of my mood.

I earned two more ranks as I dug. But early skill points came cheap. Also +3% didn’t seem like much. Then something caught my eye on the top of the dune. My stick was in the center of the shaft of light, jutting up like the sword in the stone.

No Inspect ranks are going to fix that, dummy.

I clambered to the top, then drew my stick from the sand.

“All right critters, come get some.”

I asked for it, and they proved happy to oblige.

One darted from the shadows. It was covered in gray, patchy fur and had a tubular body like a ferret—or, considering its size—a dachshund. The creature floundered for a moment scampering up the dune.

If the deranged breeder who invented Persian cats and pug dogs had decided to turn her attention to giant, long-bodied rodents, this was the face that would’ve resulted. It had giant runny eyes and a snot-covered nose with a flat, crescent-shaped mouth that belonged on a tiger shark more than a rat. It had four pairs of legs, and a thick, fleshy rat tail swayed behind it.

Lesser Ratapede

Level 2

These versatile inhabitants of the Undersands are an important link in the local food chain.

I did the mouse-in-the-kitchen dance and tried to bop it on the top of its head as it climbed up the dune.

Lesser Ratapede

-2 HP

You have unlocked the weapon skill:

Staves

Your Staves skill has increased to Rank 1.

The stick was practically useless. I hit it a second time and managed to knock it down the side of the mound.

Lesser Ratapede

-3 HP

Unfortunately, I followed.

The creature landed on its feet. Then it reared up on its back half, bared its teeth, and squealed. I was all set to give it a good golf swing when it dove headfirst into the sand, wriggling its body and digging with those eight nasty foreclaws. Then it was gone. I skittered around the mound while clutching my staff with white knuckles. Whether the ratapede liked it or not, mama was fixin’ to pile on a little XP.

I knew it was coming but I didn't know from where.

Lesser Ratapede uses Latch.

-9 HP

The creature burst through the base of the pile between my feet then twined around one of my legs like a python wrapping its prey. While I managed to jab at its body, it wasn’t enough to dislodge the thing.

Lesser Ratapede

-3 HP

Your Staves skill has reached Rank 2.

It was like the beetle all over again. Except the beetle had been kind enough to use it pinchers to clasp on. It hadn’t wrapped its sickly, fur- and scab-covered body around me.

It only got worse when the rat creature used its pug-nosed maw to tear a chunk out of the back of my thigh.

The Lesser Ratapede bites you.

-13 HP

I couldn’t reach its head, so I bashed the segment of body encircling my leg with what little might I could muster while the ratapede chewed away.

-14 HP

Lesser Ratapede

-2 HP

-15 HP

Lesser Ratapede

-2 HP

-11 HP

The damage from my weapon sucked, but I must have pissed it off because it released its hold on my thigh and stuck his head out to hiss at me. I cracked it in the skull.

Critical Hit!

Lesser Ratapede

-6 HP

Its grip loosened enough that I could shake it off. I kicked the bastard, tripped, then fell over backward, coming to rest against the rock wall of the cavern. The ratapede hissed again as it launched itself off the top of the dune. I rolled over just in time to raise my staff, then I batted it out of the air like a softball.

Critical Hit!

Lesser Ratapede

-8 HP

Your Staff skill has reached Rank 3.

It took a second wallop of damage when it collided with the side of the cavern.

Lesser Ratapede

-8 HP

You have killed a level 2 Lesser Ratapede.

200 XP

25% XP bonus for killing higher level enemy.

25% XP bonus for first kill of a Lesser Ratapede.

I struggled to my feet, pressed myself against the cool wall, then checked my health bar.

About fifty percent. My baggy pants were torn, and blood trailed down both legs in moist accompaniment to a burning sensation. I wondered how Fowler had survived with no pain mitigation. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

I have to stop letting things grab onto me. Use the weapon’s length to fight as far from attackers as possible. Be agile. Just because I haven’t learned Tae Kwon Do or Judo in Enora doesn’t mean I can’t roll and kick.

Another skill I needed to work on was dodging.

I counted as my health regenerated. It cycled at about three HP per tick. Was that slower than before? I couldn’t be certain.

Then it occurred I was only level 1 and my Constitution was lower than before.

Constitution is equal to health regeneration. Remember.

I pressed my back against the wall and waited for my health to recover. I didn't want to go crawling around in the dark until I was one hundred percent.

More scratching noises. This time from above. Another flat-faced ratapede swung down from a stalactite and tried to wrap its upper body around my head.

Lesser Ratapede uses Latch.

I ducked.

You Dodge the Lesser Ratapede’s attack.

Your Dodge skill is Rank 1

+1% additional chance to dodge creatures of equal or lower level.

Diminished returns for creatures of a higher level, with a penalty of .5% for each level higher than your own.

I’d had some success at batting these things into the air so I swung as I rolled away.

Lesser Ratapede

-4 HP

It lost its hold on the ceiling and although it was too heavy to sail across the cavern like I’d envisioned, it came down on its ugly head.

Lesser Ratapede

-14 HP

Hmm. Gravity helps.

That the floor did more damage than my staff was deflating. I was bracing for the ratapede to gather its sense and return for round two when a second lunged from behind me with a squeal.

Lesser Ratapede uses Latch

-6 HP

“Ahh!”

It wrapped itself around my leg. A third ratapede screeched as it rose up to latch onto my other leg, but I cracked it with the bo staff before it could grab hold.

Lesser Ratapede

-3 HP

The first one scuttled back into view. I scanned the two who weren’t attached then kicked my offended leg wildly in a vain effort to dislodge it. Three on one was a little more than I’d asked for, but I wasn’t about to die to a bunch of rat dogs.

Ratapede number two tightened its grip on my leg and sank its teeth into me like it was trying to burrow into my thigh.

-14 HP

I sent the first one rolling again with a lucky golf swing.

Lesser Ratapede

-4 HP

My forward momentum cracked up a nice kick to the other one, sending it a lot further than my staff had managed. I turned off the combat logging with a thought and found the red and green numbers signaling losses and gains in health convenient.

The first ratapede returned with a sliver of health remaining. I drew back my unencumbered leg and faked like I would kick it. When it slid to one side, I slammed down one end of my staff on its head and, in a stroke of luck, pinned it down. A new window scrolled text that apparently didn’t count as combat text to one side.

You have unlocked the agnostic combat skill: Feint

Fake an attack to draw your enemy into a defensive move.

This is not a ranked skill.

+5% Damage after successfully using your Feint skill.

Before I could lose the advantage, I stomped the life out of the pinned beast. It died with a wheeze.

Next, I spun around and attempted a more dignified martial arts move, sweeping my staff at ratapede three. But my swing came up short and the oversized wiener-rat scurried past it and chomped at my feet.

The one on my leg kept munching.

-7HP

-8 HP

My nerves erupted with each bite. If I didn’t get the nasty thing off me soon, I’d die of a broken mind. Although tempted, I didn't look to see if any toes were missing from the secondary attacker’s activities. Instead, I whipped my feet side to side while it darted and danced, trying to measure its approach like a cat chasing a laser pointer.

I punched it with my staff, whipped around hard, raised one leg high, kicked out with the other, then dropped my weight on top.

Attack Discovered!

Congratulations! You have discovered a special attack.

Double Leg Drop

Kick out both legs to bring their weight down on an unsuspecting enemy.

Type: Agnostic, unique attack

Damage: 4-15

Damage Scales according to your Constitution and attack accuracy.

You have unlocked the Unarmed skill.

Your Unarmed skill is rank 1.

+500 XP bonus for discovering a special attack.

An aura of golden light surrounded me then whipped into the air above. A triumphant orchestra of strings and horns swelled in my ears as a golden number two popped into the center of my interface before shooting away into the distance.

Congratulations!

You have reached Level 2!

+2 to Constitution

You have killed a level 2 Lesser Ratapede.

166 XP

25% XP bonus for killing higher level enemy.

Freshly healed and unwilling to let the bastard rat latched to my leg reassert itself, I used its confusion over my repaired flesh to my advantage. Taking two giant steps backward, I slammed my calf into the wall.

Since the ratapede ended up between the two, he took all the damage. Something snapped, then red text popped up above its head then streamed skyward since I’d disabled my combat log.

Critical Hit!

Mortal Wound!

-23 HP

Hot wetness penetrated my clothing and, when I peeled my leg away, the bloodied corpse splatted onto the ground.

Before I could celebrate, more skittering signaled a new arrival. Then the sound doubled. A third set of claws echoed from another direction, and soon their footfalls echoed off the walls in a cacophony surrounding me.

Dammit. I was doing so well.

Time for a split decision. Run through an unfamiliar space with my eyes barely adjusted to the dim interior, or put my back to a corner and get ready to throw down? But I had no way to know how many ratapedes were down there. Did they surround me? Was there anywhere to run?

My lack of certainty decided me, so I backed into the wall where a tunnel’s lip provided a little cover on both sides, readied my weapon, then squinted into the darkness.

My heart thumped against my ribs like it was ready to burrow a hole and leave the situation to me. At least I knew it wouldn’t betray me, and the worries of a lifetime slipped away as I accepted my fate.

Those ratapedes might shred me. But they’ll have pain for the effort.

This was my world now.

My eyes dropped to my XP bar. I’d only gained a sliver into level 2. If I wanted to survive, I’d need to do some rapid calculations.

XP: 36/900

A testament to my interface, quick thoughts brought up the panels I needed to see almost as quickly as the need arose. The thing was a mind-reader. Literally.

My last kill was worth 166 XP. But now a level 2 ratapede would give slightly less XP. If I got 150—a calculator popped up and did the math before it progressed through my frontal lobe.

900/150 = 6

I’d need to kill six to level again. It might prove an impossible feat, but sitting around belly aching about what might come would get me nowhere. As the first shadowy form passed from one of the tunnels across the cavern and into the dim light, I cringed at the thought of even more of them latching onto my legs. I eyed the giant pile of sand in the center of the space. No way would the tiny grains support me if I tried to clamber up, and one ratapede had already proven they could burrow inside.

But that didn’t mean they could see while they were in there. When I recalled the irritation of moments ago as I tried to blink the sand away, I had my answer.

I hustled across the room as fast as my legs could carry me. The first ratapede closed at astonishing speed. I doubted I’d make it, but I’d made a life of climbing rocks and running. I might be in a new body with less resilience because of a low Stamina bar, but my legs were longer than they’d been in my old life, and I damned well planned to use them.

My quads burned. My Stamina bar depleted to less than half. The ratapede lurched then skidded to a halt between the sand mountain and me as a second, then a third entered the room.

With two final, lunging steps, I launched skyward, over the threat, pedaling my legs like a long jumper as I sailed over the snapping bastard, then burst into the sand. My legs buried to the shins.

That wasn’t good enough. I stomped until the sand surrounded my knees. Then I turned to spy the arrivals of three more shark-lion-dog-rats. They formed a semi-circled then took turns snapping the empty air and screeching in my direction.

Ha, so not intelligent at all.

I enabled my combat log so I could keep track, then one launched toward me. I clutched my staff at the waist in case it came in high, but it burrowed into the sand near my feet. A shiver ran up my spine knowing it was there, but if my guess was right, it’d have a hell of a time clamping down with a bunch of sand to filter between its teeth and into its mouth.

A second ratapede came in high, so I bent at the elbows to draw my staff in, waited until just the right moment, then slammed it into the flying threat. It summersaulted backward and landed on the back of its neck. When it flipped onto its feet, its head lolled and the legs on its right side gave under is weight.

Lesser Ratapede is stunned.

Hey, it was something. But I wasn’t about to pursue with five others staring, sneering, yelping. Another came low and dove toward the sand. I let it pass, turning my focus on the others. “C’mon then, you little twerps. Bring it!”

My voice echoed down the tunnels surrounding me then returned, creating a resonation that vibrated in my ears. The rats before me twisted their heads in confusion. One snipped at the other, forcing it back before turning toward me.

I ignored a long body in the sand when it rubbed against my ankles long enough to face one of the tunnels and scream at the top of my lungs. This time, the echoes returned at higher decibels and the rats whipped their heads back and forth with frustration.

While they were distracted, I slid one hand from my staff, reached into the sand pile, and snatched a handful of grainy fur. When the ratapede came up, sand spilled down the edge of the heap, but not enough to reveal my legs. Luck found my grasp at the scruff of its neck.

Lesser Ratapede

Level 1

Status: Blinded

Pure gold, baby. It slithered and whipped its body side to side while snapping at my face. “Hello, you level 1 piece of shit.” I cocked the staff so it slid up in my grasp, then punched the bastard in its face. Since it couldn’t see the strike coming, it had little chance to evade.

You strike Lesser Ratapede

Critical hit!

Lesser Ratapede

-11 HP

For good measure, I shook the shit out of it then punched again. This time, I caught it in the eye. An idea spawned. I slipped the staff into its mouth so it had something to chew on, and chew it did. Then, with a shiver of apprehension, I shoved the long thumbnail of my free hand into the fucker’s eye. It screeched as blood oozed over my hand. I dug in until the nail hit pay dirt. The ratapede went limp.

You have defeated a Lesser Ratapede.

+156 XP

Your Unarmed skill has reached rank 2.

Another rubbing sensation around my ankles brought my head down. This one burrowed in front of my legs, so I raised my staff into a vertical grasp then slammed it down in the sand.

You attack Lesser Ratapede.

Miss!

Another ratapede came in high. I twisted the staff just in time to deflect, but its weight carried it into the pile near my hip. Without thinking, I reached down, grabbed it by the tail, then whipped it overhead and into the closest wall. It thumped against the stony surface then landed with a sickening crack.

You have defeated a Lesser Ratapede.

+160 XP

I surmised the higher XP was the result of it being a level 2 or so, but I wasn’t about to take the time to find out. A lucky downward strike caught the ratapede scurrying around my ankles. Again, I reached down. For my effort, pain shot through the fleshy meat of my hand as it bit blindly. Despite the protesting nerve endings. I reached for the other side and whipped the bastard out of the sand. Then it got the thumb treatment.

You have defeated a Lesser Ratapede.

+159 XP

I threw a quick glance at my XP bar.

XP: 511/900

Then I turned my head toward the same tunnel as before and howled, but this time I finished with a few high-pitched yips. Again, the ratapedes’ heads whipped back and forth as if they tried to clear them of the sound echoing in their brains.

“Not used to all the sound down here, are you?” I screamed. When the sound returned in indecipherable echoes, little stars appeared over their heads and swirled in circles.

Lesser Ratapedes are dazed.

I reached into the sand, grabbed a fist full, then threw it at the closest enemy. Although my aim was true, it shook its head to clear it. I threw another handful, then another. In its dazed state, it couldn’t react and soon, I received a notification I’d blinded it.

Holy shit, this is working. It’s not that you think too much, Kyra, it’s that you don’t think about the right things! Welcome to Enora!

I’d never know how long the battle went on. Sure, I could’ve checked the combat log’s time stamps, but I didn’t care. The important point was that battle changed my whole outlook on my new life. A little ingenuity could go a long way, and seven ratapedes later, I’d earned the level I would never forget and even skilled up a bit.

Your Dodge skill has increased to Rank 3.

+2% additional chance to dodge creatures of equal or lower level.

Diminished returns for creatures of a higher level, with a penalty of .5% for each level higher than your own.

Your Staves skill has reached rank 6.

Congratulations!

You have reached level 3!

+2 Constitution

You have received two bonus attribute points.

My jaw dropped. I hadn’t received bonus attribute points until I reached level 5 the first go. What changed?

Then a smile stretched my lips.

Gemini Fowler.

Considering how my arms quivered under the strain of hoisting the ratapedes, I dropped the two points in Strength.

In the wake of the sweaty combat, I stepped out of the sand then shook violently to evict as many grains from my person as possible. After I’d made a complete circuit around the cavernous room, I chose a tunnel through which I’d seen no ratapedes appear. It was narrow and tall enough to stand in, so why the hell not. It was dark but a faint breeze tossing the ends of my hair might have meant an exit waited that way.

All the effort left me so parched, I could barely smack my lips together. The notification had mentioned that these caves were carved by running water long ago. If I went deep enough, maybe I would find it. I would need to escape from these caves eventually, but the cool underground still beat the sandy heat, even if it meant more ratapedes.

As I started down the tunnel, new text popped up in golden bold letters in an interface pane.

You are being offered a quest:

New Beginnings

Find your way out of the tunnels and back to the surface, then seek out Panza the Seer.

Rewards:

1,250 XP

One weapon for the equipped starter class at the time of completion.

Would you like to accept this quest?

Well all right. Now we’re getting somewhere.

I focused on YES and practically strutted into the depths of the Undersands.

17

Half the reason I had picked shade elf was a tick of subliminal intuition that it would give me an advantage in the dark. But I couldn't see shit.

Sure, my eyes adjusted like I was in the real world—I had no idea how they did that. But if any enemy came along, the best I could hope for was spying the movement of a shadowy silhouette.

Or a squeal.

At least rays of light filtered into the room I’d tumbled into from the desert above. But once I’d turned a corner in the tunnel and that light was annihilated, I might as well have been wearing a blindfold.

I prayed to the god of video games the ratapedes didn’t dwell in this section of the Undersands. Suffice it to say, a torch would’ve been nice.

The pace using the Missing Monk’s Bo Staff to tap the surface before me would’ve proven agonizing in itself. Trying to tap quietly in a place where every sound echoed slowed me further.

I didn't know how long I had been creeping down the tunnel before I came to the next chamber. But when I crept forward and the air grew cooler, a faint echoing signaled the presence of something gnawing nearby.

The chamber was a junction with multiple tunnels leading off in several directions. Stalagmites jutted from the surface. Faint, indirect light glowed from a tunnel near the ceiling, and a blanket of sand covered the floor.

Whatever gnawed kept at it. Although I listened for others, the world was otherwise silent. If I could get a little closer I might whack it with my staff and get a few attacks in before it turned on me, so I crept up to one of the wider stalagmites then crouched to peek around.

I choked up on the staff like a baseball bat as the faint light clarified the scene. Another ratapede chewed on something small near one wall. I drew a deep breath, double-clutched the staff, then tightened my leg muscles in preparation to pounce. A deep howl erupted through the caverns. The sound warbled then reverberated through the chamber to echo down adjacent tunnels in all directions. The ratapede’s head jerked up. Something burst into the chamber from one of the tunnels, screaming a war cry.

No, not something. Someone.

A husky man blew by me then charged the rat creature. With another howl, he raised a war hammer then slammed it down on the rat. It wasn't enough to kill it, but the rat’s back half dragged along the ground when it tried to race away.

The humanoid landed another brutal swing, then the rat thumped to the ground in a bloody heap. I was impressed at how he’d pummeled the thing to death so fast with nary a scratch on himself.

I squinted to take him in when he bent over the corpse. The thick head of his war hammer clanked to the ground when the man knelt then cocked his head to one side.

Listening for danger.

NastyLuke37

Level 2

(No Class Selected)

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 1

Intelligence: 1

Wisdom: 1

Constitution: 3

Charisma: 1

With hulking shoulders covered in blood splatter and a long, thick goatee, he could’ve played a wild man in any post-apocalyptic flick. The kind of guy I didn’t want to tangle with. But his stats clarified things. For someone of that size to have such low Strength and Constitution, he could only be one thing.

A player.

Sure, he looked like Genghis Khan on steroids, but I was a creepy purple shade elf. That didn't mean he wasn't a nice person.

What had Gemini said?

Make friends.

But I also recalled Lucera’s warning that Enora was an open PVP world. I could be crushed without warning by anyone. But when I weighed creeping around silently on my own against taking a chance with the giant thug, Fowler’s words carried more weight.

I stood then stepped from behind the stalagmite. As his head whipped around, the hammer screeched against the surface then whipped onto his shoulder. His spine straightened.

My lips parted when I prepared a greeting, but my words died beneath a chorus of screeches filling the air. I dropped behind the stalagmite as a flood of rat creatures poured into the cavern from all sides. I curled into a crouching ball then they skittered past without a sniff. Although a twinge of remorse pricked at my emotions when they overwhelmed the other player, level 10 called, and suicide wasn’t in my recipe of how to get there.

Bone crunched. Ear bending shrieks filled the air—and they didn’t originate from the ratapedes. When I peeked around the stalagmite, he swung his war hammer in wild, wide arcs as his attackers crawled over each other to envelop his body.

His screams came to an abrupt halt when he spotted me. He took a stumbling step forward.

My legs tensed in a natural defense mechanism as if urging me to flee, but the player thumped to his knees then dropped onto his face as the rest of the pack overwhelmed him.

A ratapede-covered arm reached in my direction, the clawed fingers quivering in a plea for aid the lone sign of a human beneath the fray.

When the chewing and screeching peaked so it would cover my footfalls, I scurried to another stalagmite, then another, following a path to a tunnel through which I’d seen no ratapedes flood.

Then another sound echoed through the tunnels. Loud. Deeper.

The screeches and gnawing halted. The ratapedes’ heads jerked up in unison. They broke up and scurried down the tunnels from whence they had come.

My gut told me to vamoose, but my looting instinct stayed my escape.

I. Want. That. Fucking. War. Hammer.

Although I’d only debated for a second or two, an eternity might as well have passed while I considered my options. If the rat-things sped off without delay, how stupid would I be to race for the weapon and leave myself in the open for whatever scared them to find me?

On the other hand—I eyed what amounted to a stick in my grasp.

Although the crimson-covered remnants filled my peripheral vision, I forced my gaze onto the hammer. I shouldered the staff and picked up the hammer. It was nicely balanced. A tad weighty, but not bad. After all, if starter weapons could be wielded at level 1, and an adventurer couldn’t rank up the Strength attribute until a class was discovered or she’d reached level 5, I doubled the requirement necessary to wield it.

Thank you, Gemini Fowler!

I checked the stats.

Fighter’s Hammer

Level 1

Type: Two-handed War Hammer

Slot: Hands

Quality: Poor

Durability: 16 of 20

9-15 Melee Damage

Although it’d prove a little clumsy, the damage would make up for it in a hurry, as long as I could connect with my target. When my inner voice reminded me how I’d just seen a dude swinging it fall to a swarm of ratapedes, I reconsidered and threw a quick glance at my staff. But when another deep howl reminded me of the need for a rapid decision, I decided my inability to carry both ruled out the Monk’s Bo Staff.

I scurried back to my hiding place. No sooner had I arrived than a bipedal creature stomped into view from one of the wider-mouthed tunnels. When it stepped beneath a beam of light from the hole in the jagged ceiling, I cringed. The bulk of its upper body wasn't muscle, but rolls of pale pink skin covered in wiry hairs jutting from festering sores. The flesh swelled and bunched up around its joints, and piles covered its neck.

It swiveled its head as if to gaze in my direction. My body tensed, but smooth flesh where eyes should’ve been relieved the tension—if only a little. The ugly snout and a pair of thick yellow front teeth reminded me of a mole rat.

I froze. My breath hitched in my chest, and I held it there so my heartbeat thumped in my ears.

Please, let it pass into another tunnel.

While the urge to close my eyes was attractive, I instead scanned the threat.

Giant Moleman

Level 4

Although blind, these members of the Talpidae family are highly intelligent and territorial.

A second gander revealed the pinkish patches of skin to be sunburns.

I might have been tempted to follow until the moleman returned to the surface, but its hearing would inevitably reveal my clumsy movements in the dark tunnels.

The moleman’s nostrils flared, then its chest rose in shallow hitches.

Uh-oh.

My shoulders jerked to hide the sides of my neck. Hopes it would smell the coppery scent of the bloody human corpse came to fruition when it waddled that way, but after a few sniffs, it selected a ratapede corpse then shuffled toward me. Warmth filled my face the longer I restrained the breath fighting to escape my chest, and my heart thumped faster when it plopped down to use the other side of the stalagmite to chow down.

I grasped the hilt of my new hammer. The moleman stopped gnawing then sniffed the air. I likened the putrid mix of the oozing sores and ratapede stink to a pig farm on a warm summer’s day.

A ratapede’s tail hung from the moleman’s mouth while his nostrils worked overtime. At twice my level, I wasn’t escaping this without a fight unless I tried to outrun the thing.

Either way, crouching here isn’t getting it done. Move your ass!

My lungs pumped furiously against my will to hold my breath. Hiding was going to get me killed, so I drew back the hammer, slid one step around the obstruction, then brought the weapon around in a wide arc as the giant rose. The hammer slammed into its chest, ejecting chunks of flesh from its maw.

Giant Moleman

-10 HP

You have unlocked the weapon skill: Blunt Weapon.

Your Blunt Weapon skill is Rank 1.

The carcass fumbled from its grasp as I brought the hammer around for another go. A sickening crack accompanied the impact to its skull.

Critical Hit!

Mortal wound!

Giant Moleman

-19 HP

-8 HP (Bleed)

- 7 HP (Bleed)

-8 HP (Bleed)

-9 HP (Bleed)

Your Blunt weapon skill has increased to Rank 2.

-4 HP (Bleed)

You have defeated a level 4 Giant Moleman.

421 XP

25% XP bonus for killing higher level enemy

25% XP bonus for first kill of a Giant Moleman

Congratulations!

You have reached Level 4!

+2 to Constitution

You have two elective attribute points to spend.

“Yes!” The head of the hammer dropped to the floor as I grasped it in one hand and leaned over the moleman’s corpse. “What do you think of that, bitch?” I pumped the fist of my free hand.

Screeching from a side tunnel echoed through the open cavern.

Shit.

I kicked the moleman in its cracked head. With a couple quick head checks, I decided to exit by way of the tunnel from which the moleman had entered. Hopefully it’d already quelled the ratapede population, but I knew better than to count on it.

18

Despite my head start, the squeaking and chittering swelled as I sprinted through the tunnel. Maybe the ratapedes had locked onto my scent. Perhaps my footfalls echoing off the narrow walls carried. Whatever the case, I was about to be in the fray again.

All I could do was run with my hands thrust ahead and hope I didn't take a header into a stone wall. The tunnel sloped down before straightening. An alert blinked in the right-hand side of my HUD. I spared the text only a passing glance lest I take the aforementioned header.

You have two elective attribute points to spend.

I’d just received two Constitution points, which brought my HP to 150, so I dropped two points in Strength, because fuck it. The muscles in my chest and biceps tightened, and the hammer lightened in my grasp.

At least there’s that.

I banged my shoulder on a corner when I realized I’d reached a fork a moment too late. When my body spun, one foot tripped over the other then my weapon clattered to the floor and into the darkness. The decibels of angry rat screeching rose while I patted my surroundings in search of the hammer.

“Oh, god-dammit. C’mon!”

They ratapedes closed until I could hear the pattering of the clawed feet. A flurry of curse words I didn’t dare speak aloud at this range channeled through my mind as I touched a wall and struggled to my feet. I fell forward.

This wall slants.

I squinted into the darkness in vain, but my sense of touch convinced me there was an opening there. My instinct to run was stifled when my palm clasped a jagged rock jutting from it.

Could I?

I ran my fingertips down the wall to find the jutting rocks everywhere. Grasping a high stone, I set my foot atop another.

A critter sank its teeth into my heel.

-7 HP

I kicked it away then climbed. My hand patted the wall desperately for another hold, located one, then I pulled. My chest touched cool stone, and I leaned in. The other hand found another jagged rock, then my second foot left the floor.

Cooler air funneled down through the slanted tunnel from above. I blinked in disbelief when a glimmer of light reflected off coppery chips set into the face of the jagged walls above.

Screeches wailed from below. Although the light didn’t reach the black void down there, the chorus drew a mental image of them rearing on their hind legs and chomping the air above.

You have unlocked the Climbing skill.

Ascend mountains and perilous cliff faces while earning XP for your trouble!

Your climbing skill is Rank 1.

I climbed for all I was worth until one hand reached over a lip to touch a flat surface above. I drew myself up and over, rolled onto my back, then listened over my thumping heart for approaching threats. The extra points in Constitution added up, and my Stamina wasn’t even half empty, but my breath labored nonetheless.

Once I’d struggled to my feet, I clutched my knees then watched yellow liquid fill the remainder of the bar while I listened.

Chattering. Is that…

A cough. Laughter.

I muttered. “People?”

Fueled by anticipation, I skittered forward. Orange flickering light ahead. The tunnel widened into a small cavern lit by a crackling campfire. Silhouettes highlighted by the glow huddled around. I lightened my footfalls then crept forward. I spied the same threadbare clothes hanging from their shoulders and shoddy starter weapons within their reaches.

A skewered piece of tubular meat sat on spits over the fire. My stomach grumbled for the four-thousandth time that day as the scent drew me forward.

A woman with limp green hair set her hands to the ground to push herself higher as her gaze turned my way. “Hey! Another noob!”

My cover blown, I stepped out of the shadows and gave a little wave. “Hi.” I was so amped up my mind reeled with possibilities. These people might be hardcore. They might lure me in. I might’ve been better off rushing into the crowd swinging a weapon in hopes of taking them by surprise and racking up some XP. Alas, my fists were all I had and, despite my martial arts training, there were too many of them. If they wanted me dead, I’d be that.

I stopped just on the edge of the chamber.

“Welcome to Camp Undersands! Care for a little charred ratapede?” She raised a chunk on a stick. My stomach rumbled despite my earlier encounters. The area where one of the little shits chomped at my Achilles itched as if in protest.

One of the guys lounging nearby spoke up. “Don’t worry. We’re grouped for a reason.” He thrust out a finger. “If you'd rather move on, that tunnel is lit by little crystals in the walls and goes for a mile or so in that direction. But it comes out in an underground structure with some meanies.”

The green-haired woman chuckled. “Don’t do his dirty work for him. They almost smoked his ass twice.”

“Bite me.” He flattened a hand and held it toward me with its palm facing the rocky ceiling. “She looked scared. I was just trying to set her mind at ease. Jeez. Try to be a nice guy and—”

“Dude. Try to take a joke.” She waved me over then patted an open spot opposite her friend. “Sit. Catch your breath. I’m Sarah.” She cocked her head to one side. “That’s Bobby.”

I took the offered seat. “Any of you die yet?”

She nodded. “My first zone was some place called the Dreadlands. Died at level 3.”

Bobby smiled. “I started on a beach. Something called a Chintella with antenna eyes and wiry teeth burst out of the waves and shredded me when I tried to fish with my spear. After that, I raised my pain mitigation.”

Sarah nodded agreement. “Ditto. I got axed in the skull by an orc.”

There were six of them. They shared stories of rainforests, high mountaintops with thin air and serpent creatures that spat poison. Although strangers, thanks to the rule about randomized starting areas, their stories formed a kind of camaraderie among the group even I wasn’t immune to. Friendly faces in a world filled with bee bears, zombies, ratapedes, and mole men proved all too welcome. My shoulders dropped as they regaled, and the fire warmed my knees.

They blinked and inspected me and I returned the favor. I was the lone shade elf, but there were a few other brightly colored individuals. Tiny horns sprouted from one guy’s forehead. His flesh was maroon with a black stripe running to the tip of his nose.

“Have some rat. It’s better than you’d think.” Sarah snatched a stone knife from beside the fire pit then cut off a sliver of roasted rat “The buff doesn't stack, but you’ll want it if you're gonna forge ahead.”

I accepted the food with a smile then raised my free hand. “Have you guys tried farming these rat things?”

One of the men on the other side of the fire scoffed. “Tried is the operative word. But when the packs catch you up there, you're screwed. And since they're all low levels, we got so little XP as a group, it wasn’t worth the risk. Especially with those big mole bastards running around. They pop out of nowhere. We escaped our last foray by the skin of my ass.” He rolled to one side to reveal a torn strip of cloth folded down from his pants. “Literally.”

I sniffed the meat, maybe drooled a little, then took a tiny bite. It was good. A little gamey.

You eat Roasted Ratapede.

Level 1

Type: Food

Buff: +2 Constitution

Duration: 1 hour

I took another bite. That mouthful was a bit too squishy. I spat it out.

“It might need another minute over the fire. You can use this.” The woman who had been turning the spit handed me a smaller stick. I mused that if I’d been able to keep my staff, it would’ve finally serve real purpose.

“Thanks.” I stabbed my chunk of meat onto the stick then turned it over the fire.

Congratulations!

You have discovered an Occupational Skill:

Cooking

Occupational Skills:

Not to be confused with combat professions, occupational skills allow people to earn a wage, run a business, build foundations, or create weapons, armor, and potions to supplement adventuring.

When I focused on the speaker icon next to the skill name, Lucera’s croaky tenor spoke inside my head.

Tool tip: Yum! Cooks use myriad ingredients to concoct tasty dishes to feed the hungry, boost morale, and provide buffs to tradesmen and adventurers, alike.

“Cool. Cooking skill.”

“Right? We all took a turn at the spit.”

I scanned the tool tip again.

Bobby noticed. “Did you read it all yet? There will be a test at the end of the class.”

Everyone chuckled.

I joined in, and my shoulders dropped with relief.

But when I considered the tunnel he’d indicated when I’d arrived, they tensed again. If this crowd gathered numbers before forging ahead, whatever waited must’ve been discouraging.

19

Maybe my dislike of chitchat as I aged was the product of working with douchebags, because I found the companionable discussion around the fire comforting after such a, well, fucked up day.

Your Cooking skill has reached rank 2.

Bonus.

My mind drifted to reality.

Work… I’m never going back there again. Never going home to my apartment. No goodbyes.

In lieu of despair, I elected chitchat when I turned to Sarah. “How did you get a fire started down here?”

A brooding guy on the other side of the fire answered. “Broke up an old spear, couple crummy wood starter weapons. Tore off a piece of my shirt then wound it around the broken shaft and twisted the tip against the other half until it dropped an ember. Got a survival skill out of it.”

“Where the hell are you from?” The words escaped my lips before I’d considered them. But right when I thought I’d made a bitch of myself, he smiled.

“Alabama. And before you ask, yes, I hunt. Yes, I’ve made my share of fires with shoelaces, a stick, and a fire board.”

I’d have to remember the bit about survival skills. Maybe he would show me later. I noted he was the only one in the crowd who’d managed to select a class. I wanted to ask if I could borrow the one-handed axe next to him long enough to equip it. Maybe I could select the Fighter class like he had, then return it. Then he glanced away when we locked eyes. I followed his gaze to one of the side tunnels then turned a focused ear that way.

Did he hear something?

When his gaze returned to meet mine, he smiled. I nodded. The girl named Barb who’d been turning the spit rose from her crouch, sliced up the remnants, then divided them between us.

I hadn’t learned how bag slots handled perishables, but I planned to upgrade mine at the first sign of a town. Why not experiment with the piece of crap eight-slotter?

The fire had died down and eyelids drooped—including mine. A game where people got sleepy seemed questionable, but when I widened my gaze to stare at the fire and admonished myself to wake up, that’s exactly what happened.

Hmm. Sleep is optional then.

Unlike the rest, I couldn’t log out for a nap, and now that I’d quieted the ever-rumbling gut, a new hunger to kick some ass and leave a blood trail in my wake urged me forward.

Since Sarah spoke like a leader-type, I cocked my head toward her. “So, what's the plan here?”

“If you want to join up, we probably have enough to fight our way forward. What do you think?”

I might have been a solo chick in LOB, but considering all I’d seen—and felt—in Enora, a group might be just what the developers ordered. Like Fowler said…

Make friends.

Fucking A. Who knew better?

A patter of sound echoed in from down one of the tunnels. I jumped to my feet then dipped my chin. “Footsteps. Coming fast.”

Sarah pumped one fist. “Now we’ll definitely have enough.”

I shook my head. “On your feet.”

Alabama chuckled. “Hey, relax. We’ve got numbers.”

A young guy’s voice echoed down the passage.

“I smell home cooking! Woo!” My shoulders hunched as I peered around in search of a weapon. Whatever’d set me off had my adrenals going at full tilt, and my hands quivered in response.

A trio rounded the bend then stepped into the area. Two men. One woman. I set my eyes on the guy in front. Bloody finger paint streaked from over one eye, then down the bridge of his nose before taking a hard left to terminate on the opposite cheek.

Bobby raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, folks. Where’d you come from?” Somehow the tremble in his voice didn’t strike me as fear. After all, if he hunted and made a fire from nothing, why would he be scared of anything?

I squinted one eye toward the dude standing at the front of the triangle of new comers.

That dude painted blood on his face. And Bobby is a bad actor.

“Other side of the caves.” The woman clutched one hip.

A warning shiver rippled up my spine. When I was certain all three’s gazes were diverted, I winked my eyes in succession.

KateSith

Level 9 Fighter

NoobKillz

Level 8 Fighter

Killzuall

Level 8 Fighter

I checked Bobby for good measure.

TheBobbz

Level 8 Fighter

Barb gestured toward the fire. “We just divvied up some grub if you want some.”

I muttered, “They’re not here for the food.”

The light from our campfire washed their faces in orange so the tips of their noses cast shadows across their features. Alabama boy took two steps back so the group of three was now four.

I squinted both eyes this time. “You motherfucker.”

NoobKillz stepped forward to better cast the firelight over his dark face paint. He reached back and withdrew a dagger with a crooked blade. “We’ve got a perceptive one.”

Barb’s head whipped around. “What are you—?”

KateSith shoved a two-handed sword into Bobby’s back before Barb could finish her sentence. “Sorry, kids. But I’m half a level from the promised land.”

The campsite erupted into chaos.

KateSith’s buddies drew two rusty swords then charged the rest of my crowd. Barb screamed like a teenager at her first horror movie.

NoobKillz growled, then his dagger dropped next to Bobby’s corpse.

Sarah kicked the campfire, sending up a spray of embers toward KateSith’s face before casting us into darkness.

Screams filled the air. I dropped to all fours, crawled to where I’d seen the dagger next to Bobby, then patted the ground wildly in search of it. I cut my hand when I discovered the blade, but I almost welcomed the pain.

By equipping this weapon, you have discovered a new starter class!

Assassin

Assassins specialize in the Dark Arts, utilizing sneak attacks and poisons to paralyze or kill their victims.

At Level 20, Assassins can select from the following professions:

Rogue

Bone Reaper

Do you wish to change your class to assassin?

With a thought, golden text filled my field of vision.

ASSASSIN!

Congratulations! You have nominated your first class in Enora Online!

A new pane popped up to the left.

BarbAries has invited you to a party.

I accepted. Blue light flashed around two figures in the otherwise dim surroundings then faded. A pair of feet crossed the remnants of the embers and, since they belonged to someone who hadn’t flashed, I leapt that direction without thought then swung my new weapon.

“Gah!” A female voice. KateSith.

KateSith

-2 HP

You have unlocked the Weapon skill:

Daggers

Your Dagger skill is rank 1.

I brought the weapon back around but caught only air. An image of her two-handed sword piercing through a player’s back and jutting from his chest reminded me of her blade’s wide reach, so I dropped to my knees. Air whooshed overhead a moment later.

Gripping the dagger’s tiny pommel, I angled it skyward then launched straight up. A sound like a popping water balloon echoed in the darkness.

You stab KateSith.

KateSith

-14 HP

When I ripped the dagger down, warm liquid sprayed on my hand and a coppery scent filled the air. I reached out with my free hand in the dark and touched cloth. My hand grasped a handful, yanked Kate forward, then slammed the dagger into her gut.

KateSith

-12 HP

Your Dagger skill has reached Rank 2.

An unseen force ripped my blade away then I heard it clatter across the room. Someone retched, then a new combat message popped.

BarbAries attacks KateSith.

KateSith

-15 HP

Something thumped to the floor then rolled onto my feet and against my shins. I tumbled backward, curled into a ball to protect my body, then listened.

A footstep to my right. Weight on my hip.

A voice from above. “What have we here?”

Before whichever dude could figure it out, I grabbed his ankle, then rolled hard to one side. He cried out and thumped down. A weapon clattered away. I threw an elbow as I rolled back in the direction from which I’d come.

Contact. Something soft. A huff. I straddled my enemy, patted for his shoulders, interlocked my fingers, drew my hands over head, then slammed them down.

Something cracked.

You attack TheBobbz.

Critical Hit!

TheBobbz

-21 HP

-5 HP (bleed)

-2 HP (bleed)

That was the beauty of worlds like Enora. Men held no advantage over women in combat unless they boasted higher attributes or better skills. His weapon sitting across the floor somewhere, TheBobbz would need to use his unarmed skill against me.

And there, he definitely held no advantage. I’d trained my whole life for fuckers like him, so it was time to put Enora’s genuineness and my martial training to the test.

Sweeping damage statistics away with a thought, I focused my energy on the fight for my new life. The clanks, grunts, screams, and growls faded into another world as I went to work.

My elbow slammed down on his face—and that was just to get my bearings. Then I slipped my forearm onto his throat.

Your unarmed skill has reached rank 3.

“Gak!” His feet kicked beneath me. His weight shifted when he tried to roll left, then right. I pinned him in with my knees.

Although he managed to grasp my arm with both hands and remove it for an instant, I straightened my legs to transfer my weight from his body to my arm.

My Stamina dropped to less than half.

When I sensed his throat beneath my arm, I bent my knees then kicked up just enough for my feet to leave the floor. The maneuver bore all my mass down on his throat.

Your unarmed skill has reached rank 4.

“Suck wind, fucker.” I guessed at the location of his nose and punched with my free hand. My knuckles erupted in pain, but I punched again.

Something cracked.

He twisted, then I planted the hand to keep my balance as the opposite arm choked the wind from him.

“Ack. Gack.” He shuddered violently.

A wave of apprehension crept through my shoulders in a cold chill.

It’s a game. Kill him.

I growled. Bit the inside of my cheek. Gave him every bit of strength I had. Visions of Kip passed through my mind—the row of cretins I’d worked with casting their filthy gazes over me and making their snide remarks. My upper body shook violently with the desire to kill them all.

Something popped. My enemy gasped. The resistance against my arm relented.

Your unarmed skill has reached rank 5.

Your unarmed skill has reached rank 6.

As TheBobbz croaked in his final death throes, I lowered my face close to his. “Back to Alabama with you, traitor.”

You have slain TheBobbz!

100% Bonus XP for your first PVP kill in Enora Online!

300% Bonus XP for killing a player four levels higher in PVP combat!

1,727

An orchestral explosion filled my ears then golden light formed an aura around me and funneled skyward.

Congratulations!

You have reached level 5!

+1 Constitution

+1 Dexterity

You have two bonus attribute points to spend.

I clambered off the bastard then rolled onto my back.

A voice called out in the dark. “Dude! Down to two of us. Let’s get the hell outta here!”

Footsteps trailed off in two directions, and I realized our enemies had inadvertently split up. I chuckled despite my low wind. Then my belly rumbled and an explosion of full-blown uproarious laughter blew forth from my lips.

Footsteps kicked grit nearby, but I was beyond caring.

“Kyra?” Someone plopped down beside me, huffing and puffing.

You have exited combat mode.

Azure light bloomed around BarbAries’s form as she sat beside me. Blood splatter covered her face. The guy who’d sat across from her but spoken little joined in, dropping to his ass on my left.

He grinned. “Well, that sucked.”

BarbAries nodded. “I’d say so.” She leveled her gaze on him. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve cut myself worse in the real world.” He cocked his head toward me. “But it looks like she’s fallen and can’t get up.”

I analyzed the comedian.

NoGoodDrops

Level 6

(No Class Selected)

BarbAries twirled an axe. “You feeling okay?”

I imagined the bloody face and caved throats of every bastard from the Aisle of Douchebaggery then grinned like I’d evicted every demon that haunted me. “Man, I couldn’t be better.”

Living up to the short form of his name, Drops opened one fist then dropped something next to me. “Kicked this on the way over.”

“Heh. That’s fortuitous.” I sat up then snatched my new dagger from the ground.

Assassin’s Slicer

Although it ain’t much, you could be stuck with a starter weapon.

Type: Dagger

Slot: Main or off-hand

Quality: Common

Durability: 26 of 30

11-21 Melee Damage

NoGood batted his thick eyelashes. He stood about six-two with a close beard, olive skin and large shiny muscles suitable for a romance cover. I decided not to psychoanalyze that avatar choice. Maybe he was stunning in real life.

BarbAries stood. “Gimme one sec.” I watched as the tracers from the azure glow surrounding her left a wavy trail when she paced toward the remnant embers of the kicked fire. “This’ll work. A stick with a jagged edge appeared in one hand, then she tore a strip of cloth with a couple violent jerks of her sleeve and wrapped it around the broken end. She dipped it in the embers then blew. A flame licked at the cloth then reached along its length. She twisted it to light the other side then stood.

When she returned, I scanned to the extents provided by the fire glow. “Everyone else dead?”

BarbAries nodded.

NoGoodDrops’s lips pinched on one side. “That’s too bad. I liked Sarah.”

“They were all very nice.”

Something about her word usage ticked at my curiosity. I couldn’t put my finger on what nagged. Maybe it would come to me.

NoGood’s response was the polar opposite of her congeniality. “I think we should get the fuck out of here before every rat in this place answers all the noise we just made.”

BarbAries nodded. “He’s right. It’s too dangerous to sit around here.”

I agreed. “They just got whooped by a bunch of lower levels. Gankers like them will regroup and come back.”

BarbAries raised her torch to light a tunnel’s mouth. “It was this way.”

I tugged her torn sleeve. “You all said it was dangerous down there. Have you explored any other tunnels to see if they lead to the surface?”

“No, but if we can kick ass in the dark, we can kick it where we can see, yeah?” She thrust out a hand. “I’m Meredith Petrowski. But in Enora, I bring the death! Hence, my name.” She giggled melodramatically. The formality of her introduction struck me as weird.

“I thought it was ‘mere death,’ as in ‘I’m not afraid of mere death.’”

“Honey, I’m eighty-four. I’m not afraid of anything.”

That was it! Her earlier congeniality sounded like something an older person would say.

“Wow. You don’t look a day over eighteen.”

“The girl who brings me my meals tells the same lie.”

20

The caverns spiraled downward, growing wider as we progressed deeper underground. The floor was bare rock with less sand. Gradually, the terrain leveled off. I smacked my lips.

“Either of you hiding water?”

They shook their heads.

I would’ve killed a kitten for a sip of water.

BarbAries’s torch revealed small side tunnels. None enticed them. They were a pair on a mission.

“This is where we got smoked last time.” Drops pointed ahead with his sword. BarbAries drew her axe, and I clutched my puny dagger. The eerie quiet swelled in my mind.

Drops wore a severe expression, but BarbAries grinned like a schoolgirl with her first boyfriend.

The passage widened, and the small side tunnels became less frequent. We crept along for twenty minutes before light shimmered off the rocky walls ahead. The hall ended abruptly when we stepped into a massive underground cavern.

The walls stretched up for hundreds of feet until they reached a sprawling sunlit opening. The floor before us ended in a sheer cliff with a forty-foot drop.

Cascading reflections on the stone caught my eye.

There’s water down there.

It was a colossal cenote, a natural atrium with water covering the bottom. If someone ventured from above, it’d be an oasis.

Vines covered a huge, three-sided monolith of a building dominating the center of the cavern’s floor below. Moss blanketed ancient bricks like I’d seen in the pyramids of South America, and thinner ivy crept across a high rock that jutted from the water.

The structure reached halfway to the opening in the ceiling like a three-sided skyscraper. Dark entrances dotting its face at different levels were connected by bridges to tunnels carved into the other walls of the cavern.

As was my luck that day, no bridges reached for our tunnel.

On the side opposite us, one wall of the cenote was not natural rock, but cut stone block from floor to ceiling. The monumental rock wall continued a couple hundred feet to the opening in the roof of the cavern. A series of narrow stone staircases led from the base of the cavern to the lowest bridge fifty feet up.

Life had found a way—even beneath the desert. This wasn't some forced thing a game designer inserted. The setting told its own story. I imagined how the water carved these caves then creatures came to inhabit them for shelter from the harsh desert sun. They set to building a pyramid from clay fired into bricks, one at a time. The stones on the far wall had been carved, hauled, then stacked with meticulous concern.

A civilization flourished beneath the desert then fell into decline.

The way time reclaimed it proved just as beautiful. Light reflected off the water and danced on the walls of the cavern. If not for the violence, tourists who didn’t give a damn about VMMORPGs might journey to Enora.

You have discovered the Tomb of Xzaltass.

+50 XP

You are being offered a quest:

Explore the Tomb of Xzaltass.

Reward:

50 silver

200 XP

I pointed toward the massive central structure. “There. I want to go there.”

“I got it, too.” Drops cocked his chin, then turned his gaze down. “I think we have to swim across to go up the stairs on that far wall.”

BarbAries peered over the edge. “I don't think we’ll have to swim.”

“She’s right. It looks shallow.”

I followed her gaze. Our side of the cavern’s blocks stacked so the climber in me saw handholds in the uneven edges. “Forty feet down. Easy climb.”

Drops leaned over the edge with the kind of care that ensured his feet didn’t touch it. “Not a fan of heights.”

BarbAries cackled. “I ain’t fond of getting stabbed in the liver, sweetie, but I'm starting to get used to it.”

I smiled and nodded at her before dropping to my knees.

Drops stepped closer. “You need a hand?”

When I turned to prop my elbow on the ledge, I shook my head. “Nope. Better if you don’t.” My arms strained, but it would’ve been worse if I hadn’t dropped four electives into my Strength. That decision was starting to pay off.

One foot found a solid edge. When stable enough, I peered back up. “Do it just like I did. Make sure you’re steady, feel around with your foot, then descend. It’s all in the top halves of your fingers and wrists, especially if your feet are stable.”

The truth was, going down always proved tougher, but telling them that would set the wrong disposition. The interface chimed in when that last word crossed the path through my brain.

Disposition:

A being’s orientation toward you

Disposition is a measure of your relationship to others in the world of Enora.

Disposition States:

Despised

Hated

Hostile

Unfriendly

Neutral

Friendly

Endeared

Enamored

Beloved

While the information might prove useful, when hanging over the edge of a forty-foot drop might not have been the best time to mention it. I doubted it applied to players, anyway. But when I met some NPCs, maybe I could use the knowledge to barter for better gear.

Your Climbing skill has reached rank 2.

When the giant blocks evened out near the bottom, I decided to drop the last six feet and into the water. Unfortunately, it looked a little deeper than it proved to be and my knees got a good shock when I landed. I waded up to my thighs then gazed back up.

You have descended a 52-foot wall without plummeting to your death.

Your Climbing skill has reached rank 3.

+100 XP

“Okay! Good to go!”

Hours ago, I’d been dying of thirst. My struggle to live had a way of distracting me from it. I guessed the worse suffering took prevalence. Now that that I was up to my thighs in it, I considered dunking my head then slurping with vigor.

That wouldn't be prudent.

I inspected.

Water

Your inspection skill has reached rank 2.

I assumed it was potable, though I couldn’t be sure the interface would’ve told me. Either way I was parched and the damn game would probably kill me using dehydration if I didn’t drink. If I dunked my head, a crocodile would inevitably appear to snatch my head off my neck, so I cupped my hands then drank for a bit while the others descended. My belly was full of liquid by the time they jumped down beside me.

The two of them drank their fill. Once we were topped up, we devised our game plan. We’d move counter clockwise around the outside of the pool, staying as close to the wall as possible. The likelihood anything at surface level would get the drop on us was lower. That strategy didn’t account for possible ranged attacks from above, but no plan was perfect and we had the low ground… pool.

“If something lives down there, we don't want to stir it up.” Drops eyed the deeper section of water toward the center of the cavern where we couldn’t see the bottom.

BarbAries shook her head. “I'm not fighting in the water at all if I don't have to. It’d be like running in mud.”

We waded across in long strides disturbing the water as little as possible.

What I’d first thought were rock formations turned out to be small mud huts. All flooded. I doubted it was by design, and I wondered how all the water got down here beneath a desert.

We debated whether to scour them, but their tiny statures and narrow doorways deterred us. If loot waited, it’d be in the towering temple. Besides, my impression of Enora so far indicated it wasn’t a game where people smashed down every door and shattered every pot they came across.

We skirted around the huts. Ten were on our side of the shallows and more on the other side of the pool. There was nothing in the deep middle section of the water except for the one massive rock that the temple had been built on. An occasional shifting shadow moved in the depths.

I told myself it was just light reflecting off the cave walls.

Ancient decorative carvings greeted us on the other side. Feathered serpents twisted along the outside of narrow staircases. Farther up stood half-human half-reptile statues chiseled in a relief on the wall. Judging from the strange crown on one, I assumed she was a queen or a deity.

On the other end of the wall, one of the stones had broken loose and a pile of soft, sandy earth spilled through. Perhaps this side of the cavern hadn't been as stable as the rest, and this wall had been built to prevent it from collapsing. Or maybe the builders used creepy architecture to keep interlopers at bay.

A circular carving the size of a baseball diamond was set in the very center of the wall, maybe 150 feet up. It resembled the Mayan calendar.

Drops stared up at it, mouth agape. “Holy crap.”

I agreed with the sentiment.

The ledges crawling up to the first walkway above were about a foot wide. Drops grew pale staring at them.

“Dude, you think too much. The trick is to just do it.” I scurried up the first staircase with my shoulder rubbing the inner wall.

The stairs ended on a narrow ledge about fifteen feet up. I shimmied across the ledge to the other side of the wall. Recesses carved to look like the mouths of lizards arranged in a ladder pattern made for easy climbing up to another ledge.

Then a second staircase zig-zagged to a wider landing that met with a stone bridge stretching to connect with the tomb.

When I arrived, I plopped down, then dangled my feet over the side. Even from my perch, I could see the white ridges of Drops’ knuckles as he inched behind BarbAries. “Drops, if you grip those rails any tighter, they’ll snap.”

His sole response was a deep exhale.

BarbAries shot me a glare but couldn’t disguise her grin beneath.

From the higher vantage, the water was crystalline, transparent, and reflected the day’s azure sky like a mirror. Angular shapes under the surface hinted at more submerged tombs. My mouth dropped open when a huge shadow cut a long wake beneath the water in the distance then disappeared into the far wall.

Did I just see that?

My heart quickened. “Don't fall in. There’s definitely something big swimming down there.”

Drops’ let out an audible huff but didn’t take his eyes off his feet.

As they scaled the last few steps, I hopped up and headed toward the tomb. The bridge narrowed in the middle. I threw my arms out and crossed heel to toe like on a balance beam.

Drops wasn't going to like it.

What had looked like a gate from the other side of the bridge proved to be a metal portcullis. The opening behind it loomed shrouded and silent. Little creatures scurried around the ledges and walkways. I wasn't close enough to focus on any, but they resembled squishy guinea pigs. Maybe a crouching corgi.

I did spy smooth fur, and I wondered if one would fit in my rucksack.

In-game pets, anyone?

I pressed my ear to the portcullis, held a finger to my lips to quiet the other two, then closed my eyes. Completely dead. I grasped the grate. It wouldn’t budge.

“I might need your help with this.”

Drops bent to grasp his knees then panted a few times. My guess about his disposition to the narrow walkway had proved out. BarbAries rolled her eyes. I smiled.

While we waited, I inspected the brickwork around the portcullis. The mortar was flaking and covered in moss but solid. After what had to be a century or two—maybe longer—there was hardly a cracked brick.

Eventually Drops arrived, then the three of us gripped the portcullis and heaved. It didn't even creak.

Hands on my hips, I looked skyward. “Wish I‘d put a few points into Dexterity. I don't think we have any choice but to climb higher. The hard way, this time.”

“Higher?” Drops whined.

BarbAries rubbed a circle in his back. “Poor Dropsy. Maybe you should log out and take a little nap or something.”

“Don’t tempt me. Who designs a game that—”

My head whipped around. “What is it? You hear something?” I scanned the surrounding area. “See something?”

Drops chuckled, dipped his chin, then shook his head in slow twists. “No. I just realized I was complaining about the most amazing game I’ve ever seen. It drew me in so deep I was actually afraid of falling. How ridiculous am I?”

BarbAries shrugged with meaning.

“Bite me, old lady.”

The next bridge was another forty feet up. If that one proved impassible, two more connected the tomb to this side of the cavern. The treks would be longer, but we had options.

Drops bucked up. “I bet there's some great loot in there. Let’s raid this freaking place.”

“Amen to that.” BarbAries threw her arm over his shoulders.

Drops took the lead this time. “Has to be a town at the exit. It wouldn't reward us for getting out if we were just going to die of thirst.” He paused. “Would it?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. I don’t plan on building a house here or anything.”

Unlike the two of them, I wasn't going to be logging out anytime soon. But I decided not to mention it. And when they did log out, I’d feel a whole lot better resting in a village than spending the night alone in the cavern. In that sense, I understood Drops. At the same time, I was knee deep in my new world, and I’d damn well explore it. Loot it. Own the bitch.

“Today’s my gaming day. I’m gonna keep playing until I get my kills in.” BarbAries pumped her fist. “My doctor says it staves off Alzheimer’s.”

“I'm in it to win it,” Drops agreed.

It occurred that this was the first time I’d hung out with another pair of people in way too long.

The higher we climbed, the slower the going, but I wasn’t about to rattle the inexperienced climbers with my impatience.

Your Climbing skill has reached rank 4.

Maybe I’d been more of a solo player in Light of Babylon, but after a day in Enora laden with fear, pain, and the outright treachery around the campfire, I found myself warmed to their companionship. I’d lost my life in the outside world. Sane people might have taken an hour to weep. The rest might have chosen a virtual realm more akin to the one they’d existed in before.

Even if I’d been promised millions of dollars and a luxurious lifestyle by Infinity Designs, I couldn’t see myself doing it.

Entering a virtual city. Repeating the same old monotonies. Dealing with douchebags. Underestimating myself.

Shit on that!

This chasm beneath the desert served as a refuge from self-pity. I didn’t want to wallow, and climbing with BarbAries and Drops sent my worries off with cross-breezes whipping from tunnel to tunnel.

No way would I take them for granted.

So, I climbed, passed them, then stopped every few feet to peer back down and shout advice. “Up on your right, Drops. Come over a few inches and grab on that hold so you can step up right there. Keep your chest off the surface when you reach so your legs take your weight. Shake it off, we’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Thanks, Kyra. I’ll get there.”

On the other hand, BarbAries cruised. She’d found a path of handholds and footings to his left and passed him by two heads. I wondered if the pod provided her clarity she didn’t enjoy in the outside world. The thought sounded offensive even inside my own head, but the way an eighty-something could hustle up that wall while someone on the outside world was preparing her meals, I wouldn’t have put it past Infinity Designs.

My thoughts returned to the way I’d been less traumatized than I’d have expected by my first death. Sure, pissed off was an apt description, but not traumatized. If it was legal for game developers to simulate drug effects in their virtual worlds, and there was zero data to show it increased use in the outside world—just the opposite, really—then they could affect the mind in other ways. Positive ways. If that meant more clarity for an octogenarian who wanted to climb walls in an underground temple complex…

Well, fucking-A.

Your Climbing skill has reached rank 5.

As we transitioned from level to level, carved ladder-like handholds became the norm. I’d reached another ledge just below one of the bridges when something unusual caught my eye. All along the higher ledges rested ornate bas reliefs, and a nervous climber like Drops had to press himself against life-sized depictions of robed lizard priests—or whatever—to progress.

I passed under the bridge when I got the distinct impression one of the statues on the platform above winked. I climbed over the lip then stood before it.

After all, it wasn’t like it could kill me. Not permanently, anyway.

Shit, I’m kind of immortal now. WTF.

You successfully scaled a 48-foot wall, and you never even slipped.

Your Climbing skill has reached rank 6.

+100 XP

You have discovered the Outer Temple Complex.

+234 XP

On closer inspection of the lizard-thing, I detected the twinkling facets of two emeralds set into the eyes of the stone statue. Had others boasted these? None of them garnered my attention, so I suspected not.

I followed my instinct. Instinct equaled ‘loot the sparklies.’

Guilt might have tickled my brain in the real world if I tried some shit like that, but sacrilege didn’t transfer to my new world if no one was around to complain.

But when I slipped the tip of my dagger in the recess, the world around me dimmed to a green aura. Nausea crept into my belly, then bile rose in my throat. I backed away, caught my breath, and eventually the sensation faded. But when I tried again, the world dimmed a second time. The nausea returned.

I analyzed the emeralds from a distance, but my interface had nothing to report.

What the hell?

I gazed over the edge.

BarbAries climbed ten feet below. Drops, about twenty. I pressed my chest into the wall, ensured my feet stood on stable outcroppings, then scanned the surrounding statues. Nothing caught my eye. No glitter. But when I turned back to eye the lizard with the gem eyes, I noted the discoloration of one hand wasn’t caused by age.

Curious.

I set my hand against the palm. The stone jiggled. When I pushed, it slid into a recess about four inches, then a loud click echoed behind the wall.

You have learned a new skill:

Discover Hidden Doors

Your Discover Hidden Doors skill is Rank 1.

“What was that?” BarbAries inquired.

With a low grinding noise, the stone lizard man slid inward then to the side, revealing a dark opening leading to a staircase.

I turned my eyes down on my companions. “Guys. Get up here. This is so badass.”

Then I realized the lizard had slid into a recess, and I might never get those emeralds. Gah.

I sat dangling my feet off the edge, my favorite thing to do at altitude. By the time they joined me, tingles signaling poor circulation enveloped both my legs.

Two fuzzy critters tussled over a bit of tasty greenery at the water’s edge, causing a slow ripple to cross the surface. As I watched the lights play across the cavern, my jaw dropped. When BarbAries pulled herself up and plopped down next to me, I barked laughter.

“What’s funny?”

I pointed. “See where the two walls meet in that corner way down there?”

She leaned forward, and I was impressed by her complete lack of fear as she sat on the edge of a perilous drop. “What? Those dark…” Her eyes homed in, then flitted to the left, continued a smooth trek around the cavern. “You have got to be shitting me.”

I shook my head. “They hid them in the shade cast from the lip above. Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s flooring up at the surface to keep the sand back to cast those shadows.”

She leaned close to whisper. “If we tell him there were stairs leading all the way around this place to right here, he’s gonna jump.”

I nodded. “I’m not above subterfuge. He didn’t notice yet, so why ruin his day? Are you disappointed?”

“Heck, no. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

Our sweaty Adonis of a teammate hauled himself up then sat to complete the row of dangling stooges. “What’s funny?”

I lied on the fly. “Game mechanics.”

“How so?” He smiled a real heart-melter, but he might’ve been some greaseball in his mother’s basement, so I ignored it.

“Because it’s hilarious how a musclebound male monster like you is slower than a couple of women when the playing field is finally leveled.”

BarbAries cackled.

Drops smirked. “Bite me, Kyra.”

“If you looked like that in real life, I’d take it under consideration. Alas, no one looks like that.”

I dusted my hands on my knees then pushed up to my feet.

I thrust my finger down to the pool far below. “There! See it?”

Whatever sea monster lived down there slid out from the wall I’d seen it enter earlier.

BarbAries nodded. “Wowsy. That’s a big’n. I bet you some people would actually jump in there and try it out for the XP.”

My head swiveled. “Would you?”

“That’s a big fat nope.”

We peered inside the recess left by the lizard statue.

“Is that a glow at the bottom?”

I squinted. “Kind of looks that way.”

Drops slid between us then stepped into the recess. “I’ll go first.”

“Trying to make up for your display on the walls?”

His sword whispered against the tattered sheath on his belt when he withdrew it, then he crept down the staircase without giving me the dignity of a response. BarbAries followed. I brought up the rear.

I had a dagger. He has a sword. If he wanted to put his ass on the line, it was no skin off mine.

The crunch of grit beneath our footwear echoed in the otherwise dead silence. The stairway spiraled down for about a minute before Drops came to a halt.

You have discovered a secret room.

Temple Armory

+220 XP

“Open door.”

A dim light flickered from the room.

“All clear.” We filed in.

Jackpot!

My eyes locked onto a shiny chest in the corner like an advanced aircraft’s targeting system. Drops went right for it.

“Hold on, Bucko. Someone’s been here.” BarbAries thrust a long finger at a lit torch. In other games, torches might have been there for decoration. Not in this bitch.

Drops barely hesitated. “All the reason to loot fast then make tracks.”

Rows of recessed cubbies lined the far wall. A rack of ancient weapons lined the one nearest us. It held rusted swords and aged spears whose dry-rotted shafts threatened to disintegrate if touched.

Drops yanked the torch from the wall, then inspected the alcoves.

“Skulls.” He raised the torch illuminating singular skulls placed in each alcove. A tall one with long, wiry teeth. Another one, human. A Moleman with two long teeth and no eye sockets.

I scanned the human.

Your inspection skill has reached rank 3.

At least I was ranking up skills. When Drops brought the torch back around to the table, I turned my attention to the ornate chest of lacquered wood with gold edging. The container itself might have been worth some gold, but to gaze on it was to know we couldn’t lift it.

As I focused, a glowing light surrounded it and the chest began to flash.

You have learned a new skill:

Discover Traps

Your Discover Traps skill is rank 1.

Drops reached to open the lid.

“Wait!”

He didn’t listen. No sooner did a crack appear than a serpent sprang forth then sank its teeth into our party mate’s neck.

NoGoodDrops

-19HP

Additional Effect:

Venom

NoGoodDrops is poisoned.

-17 HP (Poison)

“Shit!” He slapped the snake away then it retreated to the chest, hovered, and spread its hood out.

Shit. It’s a cobra.

NoGoodDrops

-16 HP (Poison)

“Oh, shit.” He yanked the collar of his shirt open to reveal two ruby puncture wounds. Purple trim darkened their edges. Beads of sweat popped onto his forehead.

NoGoodDrops

-11 HP (Poison)

BarbAries lunged then whiffed the air with her axe.

BarbAries attacks Temple Cobra.

Miss!

NoGoodDrops

-9 HP (Poison)

In the wake of her overswing, the cobra lurched then sank its fangs into BarbAries’s arm. The axe clattered to the ground when she reached for her injured elbow.

BarbAries

-17HP

Additional Effect:

Venom

BarbAries is poisoned.

-16 HP (Poison)

NoGoodDrops

-17 HP (Poison)

“Oh, dangit!” A frustrated pout crossed her face. She deflected the cobra’s follow up strike with the sole of one shoe.

“Dammit!” I slid back two giant steps. “You guys are losing health too fast. Got a healing potion? Antidote?”

BarbAries backed off, eyeing the snake all the while. “Sorry, kiddo. You’re right. We’re toast. Gah, that stings!” She turned, and we locked gazes. She clutched my arm. “But this game is rad.”

She turned then dropped to one knee. “Loverboy! Add me to your friend’s list!”

Drops nodded, his eyes rolled back in his head, then he crumpled into a heap.

NoGoodDrops

-11 HP (Poison)

NoGoodDrops has died.

NoGoodDrops has left your party.

BarbAries

-14 HP (Poison)

BarbAries

-12 HP (Poison)

The snake set its golden eyed glare my way, then hovered. I raised my dagger and crouched. After a short face-off, it launched again. BarbAries stomped its back then brought down the axe. A bloody bit of tail lopped onto the floor and the snake writhed and rippled its way back into the corner.

BarbAries dropped to one knee as green spider veins crept up her cheeks. “Don’t let that thing bite ya.”

She flopped onto her back, then peered up. “Well, it sure was nice playing with you.”

BarbAries

-12HP

BarbAries is poisoned.

BarbAries

-14 HP (Poison)

BarbAries has died.

BarbAries has left your party.

The snake gathered its senses then set its eye on me anew. Although I didn’t dare avert my gaze, I used my peripheral vision and recollections about what I’d observed when I entered to search for a way out.

Drops’s sword and BarbAries’s axes vanished along with their bodies, leaving nothing between me and the threat.

An eternity might have passed as we stood facing off, then the snake whipped to one side as it had right before it struck BarbAries the last time. I flipped my dagger in my grasp, caught it by the blade then threw it.

You throw your dagger at the vicious, angry, deadly cobra that already killed two of your party mates.

And of course, you missed.

But hey!

You have unlocked the Thrown weapon skill

Your Thrown skill is rank 1.

An AI with sass wasn’t enough to distract me, but my dagger proved just the ticket with the cobra. As the little bastard dodged to one side, I snatched up the torch.

Torch

Level 1 Club

Damage: 1-4

Additional Effect: 60% chance to inflict 4 HP damage per second over five seconds.

I crouched again so my knees hovered inches from the floor. Then I moved my upper body in sideways motions mirroring the cobra like I’d seen snake charmers do.

The slithering, ugly monster struck. I lowered the torch to block its path.

You parry the Temple Cobra’s strike!

You have learned the combat skill:

Parry

(Again)

Your Parry skill is rank 1.

+1% chance to parry melee attacks against enemies of equal or lower level. Diminished effectiveness against enemies of higher level.

Temple Cobra

-2 HP

Additional Effect:

Burn

-4 HP (Burn)

-4 HP (Burn)

The cobra writhed, then violently shot up the wall as if it wanted to be anywhere but in a room with me. And that was how I liked my cobras…

-4 HP (Burn)

-4 HP (Burn)

-4 HP (Burn)

…dead.

I lunged forward, pinning the cobra and melting it to the wall.

You have defeated a Temple Cobra.

+327 XP

Congratulations!

You have reached level 6!

+1 Dexterity

+1 Constitution

You have two bonus attribute points to spend.

I stared at the spots where my party mates fell then dropped to my knees. “Son of a bitch.” I swiped at a tear. “Mother fracking son of a god-damned bitch.”

I was alone again, and for the first time I could recall in years, I was stricken by it.

21

And for all my luck, I’d broken the hilt on my damned dagger. The blade slipped right out when I went to retrieve it. The torch was better than the stick I’d started with, so long as it stayed lit, so I’d carry it until it burned out.

Although Enora allowed me to add both my party mates to my friends list, I received a notification when I tried to invite them back.

You are out of range.

Ignoring the blinking notification icon on the right side of my pane because Enora’d pissed me off but good, I sank against the wall then waited for my heart rate to slow.

When I recovered, I approached the box. I scoped it out from a distance, just to be safe, then eased up from one side. I dreaded seeing what treasure my new friends might’ve missed out on.

A small glass vial of red liquid resided inside next to a tubular container with golden painted lines swirling around each other, and a twisted stick with tiny branches winding at odd angles from the trunk before eventually pointing their tips in the same direction. The vial could freaking wait!

Lesser Wand of Fireballs

Level 6

A common supplemental weapon choice of many spell casters, this wand’s branches form fingers of fire that come together to launch a fireball.

Type: Wand

Slot: Main Hand

Damage: 17-22

Quality: Uncommon

Durability: 50 of 50

This is a charged weapon. It loses one charge each time it is fired. Although all five charges can be used at any time, each starts an individual cooldown timer.

Cool-down per charge: 5 seconds

Congratulations!

Equipping this weapon offers you the choice to select from following starter classes:

Combustionist

Shadow Mage

Yes!

The magic nerd reborn!

After reading its description and realizing Shadow Mage led to Black Mage—what Enora called an Advanced Combat Profession—at level 20, I focused on the other.

Combustionist

These magicians wield the explosive power of fire to inflict Nature and Shadow damage. In addition, they wield the power of the mind to incapacitate their enemies.

With a proficiency in engineering, Combustionists can increase damage dealt by all abilities and enjoy a +2 bonus to explosives creation.

In addition to casting spells, Combutionists can carry one-handed swords and shields for more defense, or choose to equip staves for added attribute bonuses.

Combutionists also add one point of damage to fire spells for each level gained up to level 20.

Advanced Combat Class Discovered:

Blademancer

The Blademancer is a specialty class enjoying a special ethereal attunement to metals allowing the user to give life to fallen enemies’ blades and wield them against crowds of attackers.

Blademancer is a hybrid casting/melee class with powerful ranged abilities as well as brutal melee attacks.

Available at level 20.

Do you wish to become a Combustionist?

Oh, hell yes.

Congratulations!

You are now a level 6 Combustionist!

By becoming a Combustionist, you have learned a new school of magic:

Shadow

Shadow is a powerful discipline of capable magic that draws on the dark powers of Enora. Often mistaken for an evil form of magic, Shadow is the balancing force of the Light. Wielders of Shadow Magic often worship Vamoth, the gatekeeper of the underworld. Though it is possible to successfully wield any school of magic without religious affiliation, certain buffs can be obtained using shrines.

Due to your special circumstances, your Shadow Magic affinity starts at 100%

My mouth gaped then slammed shut as I tilted my head to one side.

I muttered to myself. “Is that Fowler at work again, or did he get the same boost? That sounds huge.”

You have unlocked the elemental spell:

Flame Blast

Level 4

Required Affinity: Shadow Magic

Unleash a small fireball at a single enemy causing 11-21 damage. Damage scales with level.

Cast Time: Two Seconds

Mana cost: 40 Mana

Cool-down: Not applicable

Why ruin a good thing? I pulled the red wooden plug out of the tubular container and shook it. A rolled piece of aged parchment slid into my hand. With the understanding Enora Online was just the kind of place where it could disintegrate with my touch, I meticulously pinched its edges to unroll it.

Scroll of Inner Illumination.

The reader of this scroll will learn the following spell from the Light school of magic:

Inner Illumination:

Level 4

Allows the caster to see in dark environments

Mana Cost: 35

Duration: Until cancelled or the caster is KO’d

Cooldown: N/A

Fists were fixing to get pumped this day!

When I scanned the scroll, it was covered in runic symbols. “How the hell am I supposed to read this?”

I squinted, tracing the lines of each rune with focus. The lines twisted, then my hands twitched in surprise as they separated then formed readable script.

“Monta Beru Slora Tytinga Kuru!”

The scroll’s framing glowed golden, then it disintegrated into motes of the same color that drifted to the floor then vanished.

You have learned a new language:

Elven

You have learned a new spell:

Inner Illumination

I skipped the description. All I needed to know was that I was about to see in the dark. About freaking time.

Since you have learned Inner Illumination, you are granted a new school of magic:

Light Magic

Due to your special circumstances, your Light Magic affinity is 100%.

“If I ever see Fowler again, I’m gonna shine his boots.”

Since Fire Blast lacked a cool-down and the damage scaled, I could see myself using it as a ’spammable’ attack later, but the high mana drain at my current level meant I’d have to be strategic until I got my Intellect high enough to make that practical.

Finally, I focused on the vial.

Minor Potion of Health

This potion will instantly regenerate 70 hit points.

That was a no-brainer. 70 HP made for significant recovery when compared to my 170 cap. I snatched and dropped it into one of the pockets in my rucksack.

Enveloped by a rejuvenated mood, I focused on the blinking notification icon.

“Persistent little bugger, aren’t—”

You now have four elective attributes to spend.

I didn’t know what virtual gods I’d made love me in the last ten minutes, but life suddenly looked up. I didn’t care if it was Nokuro Takemoto. It didn’t matter if Fowler had dialed in some favors. But I’d never been so glad I’d forgotten to spend points in my life, because those little babies were going right into Intellect, where Magic Mama could do some DPS! I did, however, make a mental note to add some Wisdom next level. Then Enora brought up a journal page and inserted the note.

Jesus. This game.

I checked my Character tab.

Kyra Bishop

Level 6 Combutionist

Strength: 4

Dexterity: 3

Intelligence: 5

Wisdom: 1

Constitution: 8

Charisma: 1

Spells:

Inner Illumination

Flame Blast

Special Bonus: +6 to all fire spells

Combat Skills:

Feint: 1

Double Leg Drop: 1

Defensive Skills:

Dodge: 3

Parry: 1

Weapon Skills:

Blunt: 2

Dagger: 2

Staff: 6

Thrown: 1

General Skills:

Climbing: 6

Discover Traps: 1

Discover Hidden Doors: 1

Inspect: 3

Occupational Skills:

Cooking: 2

Magic Affinities:

Light: 100%

Shadow: 100%

Languages:

Common

Elven

As joy filled my virtual heart, a low rumble rose from behind. My feet and ankles numbed with the vibration. I dashed to the steps.

A robed figure loomed at the top of the staircase, casting a shadow across my features as it blocked the sunlight drifting down from the gap on high. I recognized the scaly snout protruding from its face from an uncanny resemblance to the drawings and carvings throughout the complex. Three more robed figures slipped into view behind the first as the rumbling continued… from the massive stone door closing before them.

I’m trapped.

I raced to the top of the stairs and banged the meaty side of my fist against the solid stone. The tips of my fingers traced its edges, but the seal was tight. Even squinting my eyes to look for a hidden lever produced no boons. I wheeled, then turned my gaze down the steps.

They wouldn’t risk trapping themselves in here, right?

There had to be some kind of switch.

A faint hiss emitted from one of the seams between the blocks. Air whistled through an opening. I tilted my head to follow the sound to its origin.

I don’t know what caused me to duck when a soft clicking noise sounded, but when something whizzed overhead and a long dart wobbled in the wall on the other side, I was thankful for instinct. One of the blocks in the wall slid sideways, revealing a narrow crack.

Your Discover Traps skill has reached rank 2.

A louder hiss was followed by a puff of green powder that might have filled the staircase if it hadn’t plumed right into my face. I coughed. Tears filled my eyes. I scoured my cheeks hoping to shed the burning substance. My interface blinked a red warning. Although the world surrounding me proved a blurry mess, the words flashing as if inside my head read crystal clear.

You have been struck by Blinding Powder.

You will be blinded in three seconds.

The blur thickened, then the world faded to black as the persistent burn of the powder penetrated my eyes. I howled in pain and frustration. The gold frame of my interface and the flashing red notifications remained visible when everything else went dark. Without the world to distract my now useless eyes, the tab fonts seemed to sharpen.

Character, Map, Journal—all of them, crystal clear. I focused on the map tab despite my burning eyes, hoping for guidance out of this place. When I zoomed down to my location inside the sealed vault of a room, a new warning appeared.

You are now blinded.

Duration:

24 hours or until an antidote is procured.

24 hours? What the hell kind of—

I whipped around when the rumbling returned. Moments later, as I stood frozen in place, a clattering that reminded me of untrimmed dog nails scampering across a stone floor echoed through the chamber.

I slapped my hands to the walls on either side for balance then backed down the staircase as fast as I could without tumbling to my duff or breaking my neck.

Screw starting over! I’m a Combustionist!

More taloned footfalls followed, but in the narrowed space, they echoed so I couldn’t gauge the distances of the threats. I considered drawing my wand from the place where I’d tucked it in my belt, but losing precious time better spent creating distance until I could get my bearings rendered the idea untenable.

My backside impacted something, then a clattering sound drowned out the encroaching footsteps. The weapon rack I’d seen moments before. I dropped to my knees, then patted the floor around me as the footsteps closed in. My hand wrapped around the shaft of a weapon.

Rusty Spear

Level: 2

Type: Two-handed weapon

Slot: Hands

Quality: Poor

Durability: 9 of 20

5-8 Melee Damage

Out of practicality, I tossed the torch so I could grip the clumsy weapon with both hands. What I’d have given for a few more points of Dexterity or Strength. When my second hand clutched the spear, a message appeared.

You have discovered the starter class:

Fighter

You may change your class to Fighter by equipping this weapon.

Do you wish to change your class to Fighter?

Yes/No

You have discovered the starter class:

Spearman

Do you wish to change your class now?

Yes/No

Changing to a class benefitting from using the spear made sense, but I had little doubt there’d be a global cool-down before any new skills became available.

I thought Global Cool-down.

The global cool-down when switching between classes is thirty seconds.

I’d be dead in thirty seconds. Although I knew I was rolling a 20-sided die, I declined with a thought. I wouldn’t gain Strength by changing to Fighter, and if luck played any part, I might be able to wield some magic.

Attuned to my surroundings, my ears picked up the sounds of my new enemies fanning out around me. I imagined them setting lizard eyes on me, scanning the fearful expression on my face as I twisted the spear left and right hoping to ward them off.

The clattering talons slowed when the creatures fanned out. I jerked then thrust the spear in several directions hoping to keep them at bay until I could figure out a plan. My heart beat my ribs like a felt hammer as short, desperate gasps escaped my lips.

I squeezed my eyes shut—as if that would help!—then sharpened my focus on each sound. A guttural grumble. Muted clicks from the creatures’ throats, first on one side, then on the other.

Are they communicating?

I focused on the sounds with my ears like I had on the Inner Illumination scroll with my eyes in hope my intuition would pay off. For my effort, I received a system message, but not the one I’d hoped for.

You learn only neutral and lawful languages upon hearing them.

These creatures are neither neutral nor lawful.

A shuffling sound to my right.

“Yah!” I thrust the spear and whiffed.

More shuffling to my left. I choked up on the spear then swung it like a bat. A hollow thunk was followed by a grunt. It didn’t strike me as the kind of sound made when one took massive damage, and I found that disappointing.

Glancing Blow.

Gila Acolyte

-4 HP

Patters on my right before a pair of hands—probably scaly ones—shoved me to one side. If not for the wall next to the weapon rack. I might’ve hit the floor and bought the farm.

-3 HP

I jabbed the spear where I thought the acolyte might have been but stabbed only air. With the wall blocking my retreat, I thrust like a cornered animal. The tip found purchase, so I twisted.

“Reet!”

Gila Mystic

-18 HP

Mystic? Is that the leader?

Claws raked my arm, then I jerked the weapon away out of instinct. Lightning rippled up the nerve endings.

-12 HP

-1 HP (bleed)

-1 HP (bleed)

More talons rattled in both ears, but louder in my left. I ducked then whipped the spear around with all my might in a low, wide arc before me. Reverberations whipped through the weapon, into my hands, then up my arms. There was an audible thud.

You dodge the Gila Acolyte’s attack.

Your dodge skill has reached Rank 4.

You sweep the legs.

Gila Acolyte

-9 HP

Gila Acolyte #2

-11 HP

Gila Mystic

-7 HP

Gila Acolyte #2 is stunned.

Claws clattered away and, by process of elimination, my ears told me the stunned enemy must have been on my left. I shoved the tip of the spear toward the floor in that direction, and luck was on my side.

“Rawwwwt!”

I resisted the urge to twist lest I fall victim to another counter attack. Although the bleed effect had been short-lived, I didn’t boast the kind of hit point pool to fancy myself a tank.

Gila Acolyte #2 is no longer stunned.

Claws in all directions. They circled. A grunt caused me to twist the spear across my body then raise it. The shaft bumped something, so I lunged forward with one leg bent at the knee as if to throw a body punch, except with a spear.

Another grunt of pain, so I followed with a jab straight ahead from my chest level.

Critical Hit!

Gila Acolyte

-19 HP

I whipped the spear in a wide arc to hold them off, then drew it toward me and lunged again. The motion came slow. Clumsy to the point of excruciating. Maybe the loss of my dominant sense left every move feeling thick. Sludgy. But I cracked two of them with the single swing, even if the follow-up whiffed.

Gila Acolyte

-8 HP

Gila Mystic

-6 HP

Then they were on me. The first grasp clutched my shoulder, and it snagged my robe to jerk me toward my assailant. The second wrapped around my torso like a boa constrictor. Then I slammed into the wall behind me as the mob squeezed. The hard shaft of the spear pressed against my body from the center of my chest to between my knees.

Shit. They’ve got me. I’m done.

Certain the third would be there to finish me in moments, and equally certain the most pronounced pain of my life—in-game or out—awaited, my survival instinct kicked in.

22

A ghost whispered from the distant past as the Gila squeezed, and a vivid memory zipped through my consciousness at light speed.

Master Lee. A slight man with the muted features one would forget in a crowd, but with the hand speed of a middleweight boxer in his prime. My bare feet dug deeper into the padded mat covering the entire facility as four classes of different ranks practiced their forms, kicks, and Hap Ki Do defenses.

One of Master Lee’s subordinates—a mere first-degree black belt compared to his sixth—squeezed his arms tight around me, forcing the breath from my lungs, while Master Lee circled in front of me.

“And this is why you must use your speed, Kyra. A stronger man’s grasp will bind you. Take away your advantages in a single move. Use your flexibility. Your agility.” He wagged his stubby finger. “Evade. Do you understand?”

But the tone of his words resonated more than their meaning. Pity. Not quite sadness, because Master Lee showed only one emotion, usually emphasized by a resounding ‘Yah!’ as he demonstrated a strike. Aggression, with intent.

I’d been his pro bono case. His charity deal. The orphan girl whose love of cheesy old Kung Fu movies where the lips didn’t move in time with the words eventually convinced a sweet woman at my foster home to sign me up for Tae Kwon Do.

Even then, I wouldn’t have his charity. I struggled, twisting my shoulders in a belligerent effort to escape both the grasp of one and the meaning of the other. Stubbornness, my enemy. Resolve, my only ally.

Master Lee’s lips spread into a wide smile. “But you never”—he clapped his hands so hard the sound echoed around the sprawling studio despite the cacophony of sound from the activities of different classes—“relent!”

I turned, forcing my torso in one direction, but my feet remained planted.

“Do you see now why you must use your speed, Kyra?”

I recalled grinding my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. “Yes, Master Lee.”

“Good. Now, on the outside chance the lesson proves inadequate, I will show you how to escape, and young Stephen’s black belt will do nothing to stop it.”

23

My eyes shot wide as the talons belonging to the third pair of feet click-click-clicked toward me. Although it did nothing to restore my vision, an energy surged in my core as I jumped, then raised my knees to my chest. If I needed any more evidence Enora Online’s biometrics used the best science and technology to reproduce life in the outside world, it came when the gila in whose grasp I struggled tightened his grip instead of simply letting go so I’d fall to the floor.

It would be his undoing.

I kicked out with both feet intending to redistribute my weight, but when my heels slammed into the encroaching gila and was followed by the sound of his ass hitting stone—well, that was kind of a bonus. With the spear tucked between my legs and held firmly in both hands so the point jutted to the left of my chin, I drew my knees back to my chest.

The sudden shifts in my weight proved too much for the gila restraining me. When my shoulders shifted in his grasp so my back slid down his torso, I dropped my feet, crouched, jabbed the spear over my shoulder, then leapt skyward.

A shriek filled the air as an explosion of hot blood painted my neck and shoulder. I cringed as its warmth blossomed in the robe weighing on my sweaty skin.

I spun hard left, then gasped when the clawed hands of the second acolyte tore at my flesh, the ripping of the fabric of my homespun robe loud in my ear.

But I’d escaped his grasp.

You have defeated Gila Acolyte.

421 XP

“Grar!” A gila barked in frustration, its talons clacked as it closed the distance between us.

Squeezing my eyes closed out of bad habit, I lunged, bent deep into my attack stance, then drove the spear forward. Still heavy, clumsy, and generally annoying in my grasp, it penetrated my target with a wet pop. Something gurgled. Blood splattered over my hands, then the wet shaft of the spear tugged away from my grip as a defeated foe tumbled to his death.

You have defeated a Gila Acolyte.

474 XP

The weapon never clattered to the floor, so I assumed it remained stuck somewhere in my dead enemy’s torso.

“Die!” The voice crackled more than spoke. “Die! Die! Die!”

I assumed the language he’d changed to was Common since I seriously doubted he spoke Elven.

I raised my arms so they bent at the elbows then balled my fists on either side of my head. Time taken to think was time taken to die, so I went into autopilot and cast off the standard operating procedures of a damned video game.

With my focus locked on the sounds of the approaching mystic, I waited until the last possible moment then lunged into a low forward stance while thrusting out my hands that were bent back at the wrists.

Impact!

Wind left my enemy’s lungs as the heels of my hands struck his belly. Clutching the lapels of his robe before he could escape, I crouched to yank him down, then leaped skyward.

“Kyah!” One knee rose high as I burst into the air. Pain shot through my leg when it cracked hard against bone. But I maintained my grip and tumbled to the ground with the stalker who had become my fucking prey.

You have discovered a new agnostic combat ability:

Rising Knee Strike

Thrust yourself into the air then raise knee in a targeted strike against your enemy.

My head slammed into his long snout. His heaving breath shot out through his nostrils. Slipping my hands behind his lobeless ears, I craned my neck back, raised my chin, then slammed my forehead down.

And this time, I did it right.

Mortal Strike!

Fatal Blow!!

Gila Mystic has died.

+298 XP

Blind, rolling on the floor with my knee braced in both hands, laughter replaced my howls from when my funny bone impacted with what must have been the Mystic’s chin.

Your unarmed skill has reached rank 7.

Bonus.

“Take that, you stinking lizard.”

Although I couldn’t see shit, the sound of the tympanic music filled my ears, and I was certain a gold flash surrounded me then funneled skyward like it had before. The pain in my knee vanished, leaving nary a tickle.

Congratulations!

You have reached level 7.

+1 Intelligence

+1 Constitution

You have two elective attribute points to spend.

Even if I couldn’t target my spells, keeping my caster class turned out to be a wise decision. Or maybe a lucky one. I dropped two points into Wisdom to increase my Mana regeneration per tick with a thought.

Damned if I’d get caught sleeping again.

Frustrated and blind, I struggled to my feet, clutched my hips, then drew a deep breath of dank air. The scent of thick, coppery blood made me gag.

Even though I’d spent my points, a new notification—this time like a purple stop sign with a golden exclamation point—flashed.

You have learned a new spell:

Psionic blast

Focus your mind to draw on ethereal energy to interrupt enemy attacks and cause temporary mind damage.

Type: Shadow Spell

Cost: 50 Mana

Damage: 14-20 Psychic Damage

Additional Effect: Confusion

Cast Time: Instant

Cooldown: 15 seconds

Silence pervaded. I crept in circles, giving off little kicks to locate gila corpses. Contact. I dipped. When my hand touched something softer than the cold stone floor, it came away wet.

“Gah. Gross.” I wiped my hand off on the clothes it had been wearing, then I patted down the corpse. A giggle escaped my lips. “Blind as a bat and I’m still all about the damned loot. It’s gonna be the death of me one—”

Any twinge of humor died with the words in my throat as a pervading sadness weighted my shoulders into a slump. As far as the outside world was concerned, I had already passed. Died young. So sad. And on with life they went. I choked on a tear, shook my head, then sniffed hard.

“No. Where the hell did that come from? You’re kicking ass. This is your life now. Some people would kill for this.”

They’re idiots.

But were they? That Fowler guy was famous. Hooked up. He’d spoken like he enjoyed a vibrant life. What had he said?

I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Yes. Something like that. Sitting around here feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Time to buck up, bronco. I sniffed, a loogie popped into my throat, so I turned my head and spat to one side. Maybe I wasn’t ladylike, but screw it. I’d just laid waste to three mobs while I couldn’t see. I’d hock one if I damned well felt like it, and I counted myself lucky it hadn’t tasted like blood.

But who was I kidding? All I wanted was to log out, take a nap, whip up a cup of hot tea, or maybe go for a jog until the blindness was gone and I could play again. But the option was lost to me. There was no logging out. No pod to return to.

A sudden thought brought me back to center.

“Why’d I bother cleaning my apartment?” I laughed. More of a cackle, really. Then another found its way from my diaphragm. Then another. Soon I was giggling like a tickled babe. This was becoming a bad habit. If more of those lizard twits lurked outside, I invited them with my BS. So, I choked the rest down, then went back to work.

After locating my enemy’s arm, I patted my way to its belt, careful to avoid the puddle I’d found before. An inventory window popped up.

Iron Dagger

Level 4

Slot: Main or off-hand

Type: One-handed weapon

Quality: Common

Durability: 22 of 25

4-8 melee damage

Would you like to change your class to Assassin?

“Pound sand.” I focused on my inventory window then the dagger vanished.

The pain of melee combat was definitely not my cuppa.

I remembered my fire wand and yanked it from my belt. Although blind as a cave mammal, I raised the wand, focused, then flipped it forward. A whoosh filled the air then a boom. When I was certain I hadn’t caught something on fire and trapped myself in a burning room. I tucked the wand back into my belt.

“Could’ve used the damn thing without direct targeting.” I shook my head at myself in admonition. “Dimwit.”

My chest lurched as a thought occurred. I clutched the wand nestled there then sent a thought to the HUD.

This wand is class agnostic.

Now that… was badass.

A sack of coins jingled on the belt of the second corpse. My interface informed me I’d looted 64 silver, 27 copper. What started as the shittiest day imaginable was starting to go places.

The last corpse was barren of anything useful, but there was a certain brilliance to the whole episode. That room proved a ridiculous challenge where I’d been blinded, scared out of my gourd that I’d lose my progress right when I’d been so giddy to have found a caster class, then attacked by three stronger creatures. That could ruin a day.

But I’d come away with 47 silver—whatever that meant—a fire wand, the Combustionist class, some spells, rank ups, and a level.

Of course, I was still fucking blind!

I patted around for the sheath, untied the gila’s belt, removed it, tied it to my belt, then tucked the dagger away to keep a slot free in my bag. Who knew? Maybe I’d get used to the weight of it, find another, and trick around a bit with dual wielding.

In the meantime, I picked up the spear. Although I wasn’t a total moron and I searched for the weapons that fell to the floor from the weapon rack, I was disgruntled to learn their durabilities were zeroed out. Total trash. None of them even offered me a new class.

“Why the hell are they still sitting on a rack?”

I raised my shoulder in a half shrug. Maybe they’d fetch a few coppers if I ever found a vendor in Enora, but they all seemed to weigh a ton. In the end, I wrenched the spear free of corpse number two but left the rest.

The AI asked if I’d like to change classes, but I swept the inquiry away with a thought. Then, with another, a new window popped up from the Options dialogue.

Automatically offer known class changes with weapon swaps

I toggled the switch to off. After all, anyone’s brain could be flighty and think yes! when the proper answer was no because brains were just weird. And best I could tell, mine on the inside of this world was the same as outside.

One of the corpses wore a leather strap wrapped diagonally across its chest, and I was happy to relieve him of it. A small loop was fashioned into its center and I dropped my finger inside then twisted, trying to figure out its purpose. Then it hit me.

I slipped the spear into it, and since the weapon was just a bit thicker in its center, the leather loop grasped it nice and snug. I removed the spear, tied the strap across myself, then struggled until the weapon slipped into the loop on my back.

Then I had a choice to make. Sit there all day and night, hope no more lizard folk came to check on their friends, and try to wait out the blindness, or…

Move your ass, Kyra.

My inner-voice. Always the damned critic.

I tapped and patted my way up the stairs to the door. If I could complete the tomb quest and stack some discovery XP, maybe I’d level again. Hell, leveling healed everything else, maybe it cured blindness!

There was an exciting proposition.

A screeching noise from outside drained the flicker of excitement. An up followed by a down.

Enora seemed to like it that way.

24

Combustionist wasn’t going to do me any good if I couldn’t see, so I switched to spearman after all. After the thirty second cool-down, I swept the gaudy weapon in even arcs before me as I exited the chamber.

The screech came again, this time fading as what I realized was some kind of flying creature raced skyward, then out of the underground.

Great, now I have to worry about pterodactyls.

I tapped my way along the ledge. When I reached the handholds, I strapped the spear to my back as I gathered the courage to approach the bridge.

Somehow, crossing a balance beam struck me as unwise in my state, so I knelt then shimmied out like Drops and BarbAries before. Cool air greeted me at the entrance to the tomb structure. No portcullis this time.

I crawled inside then slipped the spear off my back, pressing myself against the wall on the inside of the tomb.

So far, so good.

I paused to listen for flying creatures or lizard dudes in pursuit. After a minute of silence, it was time to look around.

Okay, maybe not look.

I tapped walls as I circled the tiny room. When I inched toward its center, one quad bumped a table. A box sat on top, near the center. Recollections of a certain snake popped into my mind. People might call me many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. At least, not to my face.

On the far wall, my hands swept along a low archway leading to a chamber I guessed was larger because of the change in pressure. As I walked its perimeter, my foot caught on something. I reached down.

Hmm. Tubular. Twisted ribbings. A rope!

After twisting it around my fists then giving it a few hard snaps, I decided it was nice and sturdy. I gathered it up then coiled it around my arm in hopes it’d fit in my rucksack. But when I reached the end, its weight yanked my shoulder down.

What the hell?

I grasped hand-over-hand until I reached a cold metal objected. A description popped up.

Grappling Hook

A tool used by soldiers and thieves alike to scale walls, mountains, and anything else atop which the hook can gain purchase.

Level 5

Type: Tool

Purpose: Climbing

Climbing Rank required: 5

Quality: Common

Durability: 30 of 30

Resigned to carrying the weighty thing for a bit in hopes it would prove useful, I settled down near the entrance again and rested on the floor.

Whispers of water reached in from outside. Tiny taps from the claws of small critters resonated in the distance. Every echoing sound reminded me of the immense breadth of the cavern. For some reason, Yellowstone came to mind.

I eyed my interface. Only twenty minutes had passed since my blinding.

Any sane person with a pod to return to would log out right now.

So, it wasn’t the luckiest day of my life, and I wasn’t certain it looked any better when I thought about my immediate future. If I didn't starve in a tomb, I could dehydrate in a desert.

Treasure, wands, and weapons provided those little twinges of excitement in the pleasure centers of my brain, but how long could they hold my interest? Sure, my old life kind of sucked, but at least I could pop in somewhere for a coffee. Hell, I could be lazy. Sometimes it was nice sleeping in on a Sunday—or going out for a jog. My heart condition might have rendered me too careful with my life, but I’d conquered it instead.

Right up until it killed you.

“Fuck off.”

Maybe my inner voice was pessimistic, but getting blinded after seeing your new friends killed by a cobra could be a bit of a downer.

But I’d conquered mountains out there in a land without respawns. I could conquer Enora, too.

There were no lizard men out there.

I cast off the voice of pessimism. The stillness of the tomb was reassuring. Maybe the absence of sounds other than little scurrying rodents was an indication I could get away with exploring a bit. After all, I was going to take this world by the—

Echoing footsteps. Somebody hauling ass. Distant. Not originating inside of the tomb. Then I remembered each of these bridges connected to tunnel openings in the opposite walls.

The footfalls grew louder. I waited, hoping they’d trail off in another direction. But squeaky damp wood reported that they’d continued out onto the bridge and toward the room where I lounged. My neck craned to one side as I focused.

For good measure, I backed through the doorway and held my breath. Was I exposed? Would someone see the tips of my shoes? The footfalls rang loud in my ears when they passed in front of me then continued on. My shoulders drew in as I cringed, but the sounds faded as whoever—or whatever—wandered off. I blew a silent sigh of relief.

Then the footfalls returned. They crossed the bridge again. Voices came from the other side.

“Well, where is she?”

“I don’t know, man. But the way she was crawling, tapping around with that weapon… I’m telling you, she was blind.”

“Gah. I can almost smell level 5.”

Gankers looking for an easy score. Considering the wealth of XP I’d gotten for killing Alabama Bobbz, it was understandable. There was no easier target than a blind woman alone in an open space. But a trio of lizard men found out nothing was automatic.

Memories of the D-bags bombarded my brain. Snide sideways grins. The way they scanned my body when they thought I didn’t notice. Kip, King of Bastards, looking down on me before I respawned at level 1, then had the cardiac event that ended my life.

I sneered. A bunch of noobs thought they could get the drop on me? I enjoyed a two-level advantage. Maybe they had numbers, but I possessed one vital tool they lacked.

Desire. Desire to reach level 10 and cement my future. A fire in my belly to teach some firm lessons to every ganker who dared target me. Nothing would have made me feel better in that moment than pushing three macho douchebags off the edge of a cliff. Or a bridge.

I might end up going over with them, but I’d be damned if I was the only one who’d respawn.

25

The best I could tell from a cloudy memory of the area before I’d lost my sight combined with the cavernous echoes of their voices, the Gank Squad stood on the opposite side of the bridge debating whether to descend into the tomb to hunt me down. If one more kill would put them over the level line simultaneously, I divined that they’d started together and shared XP the whole way.

By mugging other players.

I hated them already.

Their debate proved short-lived. They remained convinced that killing players instead of the mobs who’d owned them made sense. But a certain confidence welled in me when I considered the three Gila corpses I’d left below without even seeing them.

And they thought a blind shade elf was going to be an easy target. Even so, I wasn’t going to push my luck. As much as I’d have loved to send them all flailing over the bridge and into a deadly plummet, I counted three voices. And I was only level 7. Practical was my middle name.

When I listened for sounds beneath their voices, I heard scratching, like shoes on the perpetual, sandy grit of the Undersands. One of them dragged his feet. Lazy. Maybe entitled.

The things one noticed when she couldn’t see.

Lazy equaled unprepared. Although I wasn’t stupid enough to jump out like some kind of Halloween prankster, my own lack of preparation could spell a violent end.

I gripped my spear then waited until the dragging feet closed. The aforementioned trickle of sand drifting down from the desert above left a gritty surface, so every step resonated. I never conceived I’d be thankful for such a thing.

Crunch. Crunch. Drag. Crunch.

The first one picked up speed as he neared the edge of the bridge. “Hey! Is that her?”

So much for that plan. I leaped out of my hiding spot then dropped the blunt end of my spear to the ground to track the terrain ahead as I charged toward the bridge. Slow progress would leave me surrounded if I didn’t beat them to the narrow end of the bridge.

“There! Get her!”

The spear clanked. I raised it, then swept it left and right. Contact on both sides. The ropes around the bridge. Clutching the spear to cross my chest, I smiled in what I hoped was their general direction.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that spear, blind girl?”

“Dude, you don’t have to be a dick.”

A third voice echoed more, like someone stood further back. “Guys, this is weak. What’re you going to do, stab a blind woman—person who can’t even see you coming? Where’s the sport in that? This isn’t what I signed on for.”

“You’re welcome to go your own way, tag-along. I’m tired of you griping. We PVP. That’s what we do. You want to farm mobs, there are plenty of ratapedes down the tunnel back there.”

I got the impression of a man with drooping shoulders. The tone of his voice lent certainty he wanted no part of this.

“Guys, let’s just go find some of those gilas we saw.”

“Bite me. It’s a VMMO. She’s fair game.”

I widened my smile in hopes it projected the air of crazy I was feeling. “You’ll find I’m about as fair as taxes, motherfucker. Blind or not.” I cocked my chin toward my chest and displayed my fiercest scowl. “I’m gonna put the first one of you who steps forward over the edge.”

One of them didn’t believe me, because scratching sand beneath his feet signaled movement. I lunged into a deep knee-bending forward stance then thrust the spear out as far as it’d go.

“Gah! You almost stabbed me, you f—”

I homed in on the sound of his voice then whipped the weapon in a wide arc. A hollow thunk resounded when it found bone.

You attack M@sterB@tes.

Hit!

M@sterB@tes

-11 HP

Additional effect: Stun

A laugh echoed. “A blind chick cocked you in the jaw!”

I didn’t get the sense the second guy took me seriously. I swung the spear side to side as I paced onto the bridge with determination. When it made impact, I spun the opposite direction. The wood signaled another strike. I dipped low, drew my knee in, then threw a back kick.

The guy shouted as the sounds of scraping grit under foot were followed by a shower of sand prickling at my face. His voice became a trailing echo as he fell into darkness.

You killed M@sterB@tes.

847 XP

Current Player Kill Count: 2

PVP Rank: Noob

Next Rank: Ganker

Required PKs for next rank: 20

Remaining: 18

While all that was nice, I wasn’t waiting for his friends to react. I lunged forward, my spear made contact again, but before I could follow up, a voice erupted into the silence.

“Dude! What the hell are you—” The rope touching my left hip vibrated. Another grunt, then a voice trailed off as it screamed.

You attack K3nny

Hit!

K3nny

-2 HP

A clapping sound. “I was tired of those dimwits, anyway.”

You Killed K3nny

+841 XP

Current Player Kill Count: 3

PVP Rank: Noob

Next Rank: Ganker

Required PKs for next rank: 20

Remaining: 17

It kind of rocked that my single spear strike led to credit for the Player Kill regardless of the minimum damage. I wouldn’t complain about the added XP, especially when I saw yellow splash across the bar at the bottom of my HUD. But when scraping sand signaled the advance of the third, I thrust out my spear.

“Don’t even think about it.”

My interface interrupted.

Player beware!

While player kills are excellent sources of XP, killing more than five players in a 24-hour period will leave you exposed to Player Bounties.

Player Bounties put a mark on your head so that players of equal or lower rank receive alerts that you’re in their area and marked for death. If these players accept the bounty quest, you will appear as a blinking icon on their map for five minutes.

Wow. Talk about drawing fire.

Five player max. Got it.

I couldn’t have cared less about my PVP rank. Enora would present enough challenges without my making player enemies, but I’d be damned if I’d end up fodder for their fantasies of domination, either. Text filled a new pane that popped up in the center of my pitch-black world, then blinked red a single time.

“Hey, I’m on your side. That’s why I threw him over.”

Silenced ensued, so at least I knew he didn’t advance, but the spear’s awkward weight caused my muscles to tremble. I ditched it then reached for my wand.

“Stay back.”

One burst would do it. I just needed him to get close enough to ensure a fireball would land and send him over.

“Yo. A wand? Awesome. What’s it shoot?”

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out the hard way?” I focused, listening for the grinding of a single grain of sand. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d abandoned his team and removed a threat, but what if he was some selfish prick trying to fool me into complacency?

Whatever the case, I wanted him to make the first move.

“You really are blinded. That has to suck. Can you see your interface?”

“Less than a minute ago, you wanted to gank me. Now you want to chat?” A scraping sound touched my ears. A sword in a sheath. The click at the end reported he inserted it instead of withdrawing. That was something.

“Those guys ganked me two hours ago. I was keeping them in front of me so they couldn’t attack me from behind again. I wasn’t with them.” He paused for a beat. “I swear to god. I loved watching you send M@sterb@tes over. I hope they resurrect in a volcano.”

I didn’t reply.

“I assume something in-game blinded you?”

Answering might’ve covered the sound of his advancing, so I kept my trap shut.

“I heard the new pods’ neurotech allows blind people to see in game.”

My forehead furrowed. “Seriously? I haven’t heard that one.”

“Yeah, read it yesterday. Apparently, it hadn’t been designed that way. Big headline this morning. Even the manufacturer hadn’t known.”

“Geez. Another massive step forward. End death as we know it, allow the blind to see in game. What’s next?”

He chuckled. “I can’t imagine. I’m guessing since you’re looking about three feet to my left, you got blinded in-game.”

“Yeah. Blinding powder. I missed a trap.”

“Man, that sucks.” Again, he paused for a beat. “But you’ve got guts. The way you charged to the bridge clutching that spear, I thought for sure you’d drop it. How long’s the effect?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to share that little tidbit with a stranger when he could get the drop on me in the middle of a sentence.

“Ma’am, you can lighten your grip on that wand. I am not going to attack you. I can’t stand PVP. Besides, the bridge is narrow and if you fire that thing, I’m going to rez somewhere with the echoes of my burning flesh ringing out in my consciousness for a while. So, how long’s the effect?”

“A day.”

“A day? What kind of bullshit is that?” His clothing rustled. “This game is off the hook.”

“Tell me about it.” I felt my shoulders slump despite myself.

“Maybe we could do each other a favor. How about we get off the bridge and talk about it?”

“How about you tell me what the favor is now? Then I decide if you're walking or falling off.”

He chuckled. The sound was relaxing. Genuine. I knew the tone of a douchebag.

I turned my head a tick to the right, hoping I was facing him. “What level are you?”

“Two.”

My jaw went slack. “You got all the way out here as a two?”

Again, that easy chuckle. “Pain like this makes one stealthy.”

I judged from the lack of sound that he kept still. A smart move on his part.

“What’s your mitigation setting?”

“Ninety percent.”

“Okay, that’s pretty hardcore. Why don’t you just turn it down?”

His tone indicated he’d just shrugged. “Pain is a great teacher.”

“Adventurous type, are you?”

“I tend toward adrenal pursuits sometimes.”

What a pair we’d make. Once I’d caught my breath and my stamina bar returned to full, I knelt to pat the bridge with my free hand.

“The spear’s right there. No, just to the right.”

My fingers graced the hard wood of the spear’s weighty shaft right where he’d said it was.

When I rose. I tucked the wand away then clutched the spear with both hands and backed off the bridge. “Okay, come forward, nice and easy.

“If we're gonna work together, I'm going to have to make some sudden moves at some point. I don’t want to worry about you stabbing me.”

“What kind of weapon are you carrying?”

“Short sword. You've got plenty of reach if I try anything funny.” The sandy scratching sound emitted then repeated several times. “It’s not like you can’t hear me coming, so I tell you what. I’ll keep my distance if it makes you feel better. I’ll even walk in front.”

It did make me feel better. I huffed a short sigh and lowered the spear. “Fine. Screw it.”

“Great.” Sand scratched beneath his… whatever shoes he wore. “Is that a grappling hook back there?”

I’d dropped it from my shoulder when I exited the room then charged forward.

“It is.”

“Were you actually planning on going up there?” He paused, and I figured he was pointing skyward as if he’d forgotten I couldn’t see the gesture. But the question supposed the opposite in a weird sort of irony.

“I was thinking about it. Unless you know a better way out of here.”

“No. I was just wondering how you’d know to move out of the way if the hook didn’t grab on.”

Warmth flooded my face. “I guess I hadn’t gotten that far in my planning.”

“Well, up sounds as good a way as any. Those tunnels I just came out of are a damned maze. I’m game for climbing if you want. I might piss my pants, but it could be fun.” His feet scratched again, then I felt his hand grip one wrist. I jumped.

“Hey, it’s all good.” I could almost see him waving jazz hands.

I loosed my grip on the spear, then we shook.

“I’m Andrew.”

I forced a smile. “Kyra. Have you been inside the tomb yet?”

“Yeah. Got some XP for exploring it. What about you?”

“I got the quest but haven't finished it yet. I don't know if I want to go in blind.”

“It's hollow inside. Like a mini version of this cavern. Once you get through this room, there's a big chamber with a walkway around it.”

“Monsters?” I asked.

“Just a bunch of sarcophagi on the floor. You don't wanna open those. Trust me.”

“What’s in them? Zombies or something?”

“Lizard man mummies. I’m not opening another one of those coffins. I'll take you in, though. We can see what happens. What’s your quest say?”

“It just says I have to explore the tomb.”

“All right. We’ll do a loop of the chamber. You can stay on the walkway. I'll check for traps.”

I flinched, knowing he probably saw it. “Traps?”

“I can’t imagine that surprises you, in your current state.”

“Good point.” I thrust a thumbs up and hoped I didn’t look too much like a dork. “Okay, Andrew. I’m not going to stab you. I know a douchebag when I see—or hear one. But you'll have to excuse me if I don't hold your hand.”

“I’ll keep my distance. We should get your hook and rope.”

He led without being asked. A moment later, his voice perked up. “Hey, what’s in this box?” His feet scratched sand in another direction.

“No, don’t!”

The hinges squeaked, then I drew my shoulders in.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

A sigh burst from my lungs.

There was jingling. Coins, maybe. Then a metallic clacking. I cursed myself for not opening it. Or at least giving the box a little shake.

“You know. Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I can't read your face. We can split the stuff.”

My cheeks warmed a second time. The nice thing about a game like Enora was, if I ever truly embarrassed myself in front of someone, I could just kill them.

“What’s there?”

“Looks like a few silver, some copper—hmm, what’s this?”

I mused in silence.

“Weird.”

“What is it?”

“Analyzing.” Silence ensued, then he broke it. “Very interesting. I’m reaching for your hand. Don’t stab me.”

I barked a laugh, to my own surprise. “No problem.” He slipped something cold into my palm. “You can keep that. Something tells me if I get seasick in the outside world, I’ll get seasick here. But that could be a real boon if you handle water well.”

Seasick?

Lines drew a thick golden square in my interface before the border flashed several times. A gold dot appeared in the center then zoomed toward me. The metallic surface gleamed until the item spun to show me its face.

Compass of the Dhow

Item Type: Compass

Quality: Rare

Durability: 75 of 75

You have not met the level requirement to use this item.

Requirement: Level 12

Activation of this compass requires a body of water.

My brain reeled in confusion. “Wait, is this saying it…”

“Yeah.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Looks like it either forms a boat or gives you possession of an existing one. A little vague.”

“If blind people can see in Enora, you don’t think maybe your seasickness would stay in the outside world?”

“With the way this game seems to take my biology into account in all other things? No, I don’t think so. But I’m a landlubber, anyway.”

“Wow, thanks. Oh, and you might just be an idiot.”

“Ha. Maybe. But you didn’t stab me despite your being three levels higher. It’s the least I could do.”

“Thanks, Andrew.”

“Call me Drew. Shall we mosey into the tomb and knock out your quest?”

Once I’d shoved the compass into my bag, I uncoiled a bit of the loose rope then extended the end toward him. “After you.”

“I thought you were going to trust me.”

“Yeah, but the rope was a good idea.”

“Oh.” He chuckled. “Right.” The rope snapped with tension. “There we go. Just don't walk too fast. I wouldn’t want it to go slack then you stab me because you think I conned you.”

“Truth be told, I was ready to go over the side of the bridge and start over if it meant taking those dip wads with me.”

We stepped forward. A chill washed over my face and hands. It was like I could sense the undead in the sarcophagi he’d described. A shiver snaked its way down my spine. A green aura replaced the gold frame of my HUD window, flashed a few times, then receded.

“What the hell is that?”

“What?” The rope went slack and scratching granules beneath his shoes reported his return.

“I keep seeing this green flashing and getting nauseous.”

“Hmm. That’s really strange. Nothing in your interface?”

“Other than the green color? No.”

“Weird. Think there’s something going on in your pod? Maybe you came down with something?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s not it.” After a long silence, I added, “The interface would probably report the change in my biometrics. Plus, the feeling only remains for a moment, then passes. Besides, I don’t think my golden HUD frame would turn green if it was something exterior.”

I’d gone a long way to avoid discussing my predicament, but he seemed to take it in stride. The rope tensed then I followed.

A few paces later, he stopped. “Step up onto the walkway. Here.” He tugged the rope a little and I stepped forward. Then he clutched my bicep. “Yup. Step up.” I did, then the rope tensed again. “There's an alcove every twenty feet with a sarcophagus in it. Try to step lightly. They don't like to be disturbed.”

“Maybe we can take them. I need the XP. I'm kind of hoping if I level again this blindness will go away.”

“Seems like a long shot. Besides, then you wouldn't need me anymore.”

“Actually. I’ve been thinking about that. And killing you might give me just enough XP to put me over the top.”

“I was hoping you wouldn't think of that.” He laughed again.

“Keep being useful and you won't have to worry about it.” I smiled, but I didn’t know if he saw it. Hopefully my tone projected the humor. “What's over here?” I pointed to the left.

“Another two feet of walkway then a sixty-foot drop.”

“And to my right?”

“That would be your standard mud brick wall. Probably best to keep your hand on that while we’re walking. Just bear straight when we reach the alcoves. You don't wanna trip into those if you don't have to.”

“Did you kill any of them?”

“I got lucky with one. It wasn't easy.”

“Well, there are two of us now, so take me for a loop of the outside. If nothing happens, maybe we crack one of these puppies open and kill one on our own terms. I might level like that.”

“Let's complete the tour first.”

It took ten minutes to work our way around the perimeter. The eerie silence gave way to the squishing of my boots, which were still wet from wading across the cenote what seemed like days ago in my blinded state.

Something groaned then shuffled below.

“What is that?”

“Just some light sleepers. We’re all right up here.”

“So, if we don’t want to go down there, what about up? Can you see any exits?”

“Just alcoves.”

“Any other options?”

“Nope. It’s up or back the way we came.”

The slow trudge up the narrow outer walkway with the rope tugging me forward dragged on. Then a breeze brushed my face as we passed an opening on my right. The cool air caused my skin to prickle. I hadn’t realized I’d broken a sweat on my forehead.

Drew’s voice broke the silence. “Whoa, I must’ve missed this before.”

“What is it?”

“A tiny alcove. There’s some kind of tome on the table over here.”

“Like, a book?”

“Yup. Here.” He gripped my triceps then led me to it. I touched the cool, dusty cover, then whipped my hand away when my interface’s frame flashed. A new window appeared.

You have discovered the Upper Tomb of Xzaltass.

+178 XP

You have completed a quest!

Explore the Tomb of Xzaltass.

Reward:

50 silver

200 XP

Before I could celebrate, moans filled the area and echoed off the walls.

26

“Kyra, we can’t fight all these guys.” My bag lifted off my hip and when it flopped back down, I noted a weight increase. “There’s the book. We can deal with it later. What do you say we get the hell out of here?”

“Yes, please.” I shoved my wand back into my belt, then gripped the rope with both hands.

The rope connecting us tugged. “Stay close if you can, we’re going to have to hustle.”

The groans echoing and wrapping around us sent spiraling electric warning snakes around my neck. I shivered violently. I was glad I couldn’t see what was going on inside the lower tomb.

The sounds of scraping sarcophagus lids and moaning lizard mummies increased as we descended around the outer edges of the cavern.

When the air warmed, I assumed we’d burst into the main area where the sun beamed down from the sprawling hole above. The rope went slack, then I bumped into Drew.

“Sorry. We’re at the bridge.” He gripped my triceps. Although we use short strides for stability, we scurried across with intent. When we reached the other side, he dropped my arm. The sound of metal rubbing leather was followed by a grunt, then a thunk. The sound repeated, but more distant this time. Rattling followed, then came a bang that echoed off the walls.

“Did you just cut the bridge down?”

“Fucking right I did.”

Moans and growls carried to us from the distance. “Nice move.”

“Well, Kyra, I’m about finished with these caverns. What do you say we try your way out?” He patted my shoulder next to where the grappling hook hung.

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

He hustled me along until we reached a wall. “Okay, up there looks good. Nice outcropping. Hand it over.”

I relinquished the hook.

“Good. Stand back.” A whoosh sounded, followed by a grunt, then a clank.

He shoved my shoulder, and I tumbled to the hard packed earth. “Dude. What the hell?”

Metal clanked on the ground.

“Sorry.” He gripped my arm. “I missed. Didn’t want the hook to—”

“I get it. Maybe stand further away when you throw it, and I’ll lean right here.”

Another whoosh. Clank. Grunt. Creaking rope. “Yeah. That’s got it. You ready?”

My heart thumped with a mixture of anticipation and fear. Someone could show me a rock and let me get a firm grip, then I could climb. But without the benefit of my sight… Sweat pricked up on my forehead.

He squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll be right below you.”

I shook my head. “No, you lead. I’ll be fine.”

Drew’s grunts and the sounds of his feet fighting to gain purchase halted about two minutes later.

“What is it?”

“It’s sheer here. I think I see an outcropping we can lean on to toss the rope again. But with this new vantage, I’m not sure we’ll find anywhere to hook at ground level. We’ll be free climbing for about twenty feet. You up for it?”

“I’m blind.”

“That’s why I asked. The holds look pretty thick. I think we could do it.”

“Are you a climber in real life, Drew? You’ve got nerves of titanium.”

“Retired stock car racer.”

“So, I guess you’re just a bit of a daredevil?”

“Like I said, adrenal pursuits. And I’ve been called worse. So, what do you say?”

“I say I’m a climber. I think I can do it by feel. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well, you could fall to your death.”

I cocked my head to one side even though I couldn’t see him. “Maybe I’ll start somewhere better next time. Even if we do make it, there’s only desert up there.”

“I like the glass-half-full disposition. Let’s get it done.”

We reached the outcropping he’d mentioned.

Your climbing skill has reached rank 7.

The footing proved narrow, and sharp stones poked my backside. The grappling hook clanked then scratched against the surface. Another whistling sound rent the air as he gave it a good spin with his free hand. It was followed by a solid clang.

“Oh, shit. Fore!” His arms enveloped me in a tight squeeze as he pulled me into a crouch. One hand clapped onto the crown of my head, and my shoulders jerked to my ears as I braced for impact. The hook clattered against the stone then slid.

“Did you lose it?”

“I stood on the rope with both feet before I threw it.”

“Smart.”

His hand slid from my head, and the other arm came free. “You stable?”

I leaned into the jutting stones then twisted one foot to get a grasp on the scale of the outcropping. “I’m good.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Just try again.”

He reeled it in, then gave it another throw. This time it hit the mark and bit. The rope twanged when he gave it a tug.

“We are about to do something very stupid. Are you nervous?”

“No. I can’t see anything, anyway. I guess that’s ironic.”

“I envy you. We’re way up.”

“I didn’t say I’d lost my imagination, dork.” I offered to tie an ascender knot. He declined. The footholds were enough. He narrated as he ascended so I’d know what to expect. The cut stones ended about halfway up the rope. After that, it was jagged rock wall for another fifteen or twenty feet.

“I’m at the hook.” He called down once he’d reached the top.

“How’s it look up there?”

“It’s exactly like I feared. Nowhere to hook above. But now I see a tunnel ten feet up and over about five. I think there are a few cracks to grip, but it’s…”

“Is it a straight vertical?”

“No, it slopes out a bit between here and the tunnel. There’s just little to grab onto.”

“What’s the angle of the wall?”

“I don’t know. Fifty, sixty degrees?”

I tried to draw an image in my mind. “You’re going to have to use friction. Flat palms. Keep your weight over your feet. Heels low, hips out. If you press your body to the slab, you lose all your friction and you start to slide. Got it?”

“No. But I’m going anyway. Here goes nothing.”

“Let me know when you get—”

His shout cut me off before I could finish. Grit rained down. The yell that followed was more like a low squeal. “Shit.” Flesh smacked rock. “Uh-oh.” The rope went slack. A pause lasted an eternity.

“Drew?”

Grit rained down and showered the outcropping.

“Ugh! Not good. Shit.” Something scraped rock above. “Move!”

I pressed myself into the stones and my spine protested with electric, climbing spirals of pain.

“Andrew!”

A change in the air hit my ears for a split second, then I knew. “Sorry, Kyra!” were his final words, but he didn’t scream.

There was a distant splash. If we were as high as he claimed, there was no surviving the drop. I called out, but he didn’t respond.

God dammit. I finally meet a nice guy, and he falls off a cliff. How am I supposed to make friends if I can’t keep them alive, Fowler?

More bits of stone rained down. He must have pushed off as he fell to keep from pulling me down with him.

He’s in a better place now. Literally.

I considered taking a single step backward and letting gravity take over. Maybe I’d wake up with my sight. Then I brought up my interface, eyed my spells and abilities, scoped the big golden “7” on my character sheet, and I just couldn’t muster the cowardice to give it up.

I talked myself down… or up, really. “Okay, girl. Better to die trying than give up. Drew deserves better. Now, get your ass up that wall.”

I patted around until I touched the rope, gave it a good tug, drew a deep breath, then started my ascent. I couldn’t just shimmy up, but it lent adequate support to get me from one handhold to the next.

When I reached up and grazed the outcropping where the hook wedged in, I wanted to pump a fist in celebration. My second instinct was to unhook it and use the outcropping as a handhold and throw the hook again. But the damned thing was weighty, and I had to take Andrew’s word for it. If he said it wouldn’t work, so be it. Besides, I imagined too many ways I could kill myself trying to toss it.

I couldn’t afford the extra weight, so I left the hook wedged there and pulled myself onto the outcropping. The rock was about the size of a basketball, just big enough to pull myself up then crouch on top of it like Batman.

I smacked my clammy hands against the flat rock wall then rubbed them good and hard to get a nice layer of dust built up. He’d been wrong about the angle. It was steeper. I’d never scaled the like without a line. Maybe a few indoor courses, but those lacked sand and loose flakes of rock. Not to mention I’d been wearing climbing shoes, not crude leather boots. And I could see.

Yes, Kyra. Keep thinking of every reason you can’t do it. That’s productive.

I located a shallow crack a full arm’s length out. I leaned, gripped, then stepped off with my weight on my toes, keeping the other palm flat for extra traction. Like a frog climbing a window, I inched forward, sheer friction and a slight grip braced me to the rock face. My eyes blinked furiously, then tears streamed. If I’d been sighted, the world would likely have been a blur.

Wind howled overhead. I turned one ear that way, careful not to turn my body with the adjustment. More sand trickled, blown in from the opening at the top of the cenote.

That was when the pterodactyl screeched somewhere below. My heart burst into a rapid tempo. I patted desperately for a hold. Anything. But all I touched was flat. The screeching grew louder.

“Shit, it’s found me.”

My hand touched a deep recess and, although I couldn’t find a footing, I grabbed with both hands and dangled. Hoping I’d dropped enough points into Strength to pull it off, I scrambled like the weird kid at the playground trying to scurry the wrong way up the slide—in slow motion.

I slipped when my foot rolled on some grit. My heart leaped into my throat and I froze, my hands trembling against the rock. I reminded myself to keep my hips high. I shifted more weight to my feet and drew my chest to the rock to arrest the slide.

“Whoa. This sucks.”

When another screech filled the air, my ears rang.

My feet started to slip again, but I refused to panic. This wasn’t my first rodeo. Hand over hand, I palmed my way up the rock face.

Your Climbing skill has reached rank 8.

When I started to wonder if I’d missed the opening Drew mentioned, my hand found a stream of warm air. Swinging with both hands, I hooked one foot over the lip, strained my quad to rise over it, then tumbled ass over teakettle into the mouth of the high tunnel entrance.

27

The warmth contrasting the moist, cool air of the underground temple and caverns below tempted me to turn back. The screeching of whatever monstrosity flew behind but could no longer reach me urged me forward.

One butt muscle reminded me how I’d landed moments earlier when it protested my rising. Then my head scraped stone as the area was barely tall enough for me to stand erect.

Probably narrow, then.

My suspicions turned to reality when I extended both arms and the fingers of each hand brushed opposite walls.

I gathered my bearings, said a quiet thank you to the memory of all my climbing buddies, then inched forward.

My first steps came with the dubiousness of one who’d suffered the longest day of her life, but confidence swelled as I progressed, the air warmed, and I found a kind of comfort in the narrowness of the tunnel. At least I couldn’t take a wrong turn.

Sand ground underfoot. My finger grazed some sharp rocks jutting from the wall on one side. Something smooth touched them, and I stopped to try and figure out what kind of rock it was. Jagged edges. A triangular dip inward at the center. Rough in spots, smooth in others.

Quartz, maybe?

Then something slithered onto my hand. If I’d followed my instincts when the scaly warmth touched my flesh, all my effort would’ve been for nothing.

Seven-Stepper

The most poisonous reptile in all of Lau, these mambas are named for the number of steps humanoids usually take after being bitten before their heart stops from the poison surging through their system.

Although the new, passing thought made me question my own sanity, I had to admit it was all kinds of cool that the interface sensed my thoughts well enough to know I wanted to analyze something I couldn’t set eyes upon.

I did not come all this way, slog through water, get blinded, fight lizard men, and make a perilous climb just to die from the bite of another fucking snake.

Its sandy scales scratched and sent shivers cascading up my arm. Its unwelcome warmth made acid stir in the depths of my gut. It wrapped itself around my hand so I sensed when its head passed into my grip.

Frustration welled to the point I was ready for a good old-fashioned temper tantrum. I’d had enough. So, I squeezed. When the bite didn’t come, I knew I’d gauged correctly. I raised the snake to eye level, but held it with my elbow half bent.

“Fuck you, you nasty little desert dwelling piece of shit. I ran the fingers of my free hand along the wall until I found the sharp point of stone I’d been checking out when the reptile intruded. Then I slammed the side of my fist into it over and over. The snake erupted in involuntary twists that raised my bile higher, but I squeezed tighter, banged harder, and waited for my interface to report.

I think you got it, killer.

You have defeated a Seven Stepper.

+234 XP

I threw the snake to the ground, then stomped my foot over and over again for good measure, shouting what the nuns would’ve called 'inappropriate words for a lady' until I was certain I’d flattened most of its body.

Then my ears perked up in realization. “Hello?” My voice echoed down the tunnel behind me, but on the other side, the sound died instantly. I closed my eyes, unnecessary as that was, then drew a deep breath. When humid air filled my lungs, I charged ahead. The dry heat of the sun slammed into me and I tumbled. When I came up with a mouthful of sand—because of course I did—I threw up my hands and almost yelled Thank you, Jesus!

In my worst imaginings, I wouldn’t have expected sheer joy to overcome me when being pelted by bits of sand in a harsh wind under a high desert sun with all the moisture sucked out of my mouth. But there I was. Jubilant.

Quest Update:

Objective completed

New Beginnings

Find your way out of the tunnels and back to the surface: Complete

Seek out Panza the Seer: Incomplete.

My wet boots sucked at my raw, swollen feet. The sun seared the back of my neck. I pawed a tear from my eye and rechecked my stats.

Now that I perched on all fours in the open, I twisted then dropped onto my sore ass. I checked my back for the spear and was relieved to find it still secure in the loop of the strap crossing my chest. But it was my wand I reached for in case I needed to blast anything in the open world. Even if something got the drop on me, it would have to get close enough to touch me, and I’d blast it right there in my own hands, third-degree burns be damned.

An old defense mechanism kicked in where I took long, deep breaths of the dry heat to normalize my breathing and end the ruckus pounding in my ears.

Thump! Thump! Thump-thump-thump!

There was almost a rhythm to it.

I remembered my heart defect was gone and smiled despite myself. But then I eyed my Stamina meter. It was capped.

The sound didn’t come from within. It came from one side. I tilted my head then leaned that way.

Drums…

Now that I was certain, I wondered how I’d internalized the beat. It was akin to the sound of a distant house party. A constant, driving, thick rhythm crossing dunes I imagined but couldn’t see.

With the new confidence of a heart-healthy woman with a full Stamina bar, I hiked up my pack, pushed to my feet, then followed the sound.

For ten minutes, my quads struggled with a brutal uphill climb of deep sand. Sweat rolled into my eyes. I took a knee to breathe when the last incline set my Stamina meter to blinking.

My feet throbbed. I pulled off the boots then wiggled my toes.

Just when I started to get comfortable with my biometric outputs and prepared to rise again, a low voice resonating with youth spoke out from behind and above.

“Who are you?”

Walk for hours and you’ll find nothing, but try and rest for five minutes…

“Kyra. Who wants to know?”

He adopted a tone of command. “Go back the way you came, Kyra. You are not welcome here.”

I flopped onto my back in the hot sand. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“Now,” he said, prodding my shoulder with something. “Go.”

I thrust the implement away. “Hey, dude, it’s a free desert, isn’t it? Just give me a damn second.” I threw up my arms. After a few seconds of silence, I huffed then rolled to rise. I slipped, my knees dug into the sand, then I cursed. My head came up to face the general direction from which the voice had come. “You still there?”

“Yes. And I will remain until you are but a speck on the southern horizon. Go.”

”Look, I’m having a shitty day without your orders. I don’t need you to come along with your bossy bullshit and—”

“I am here, but you look elsewhere.” Sand shuffled. “Are you blind?”

“Yes. Blinding powder. A trap in the underground.”

“How long ago?”

I eyed—or not exactly—my interface. “About ninety minutes.”

I tugged one of the boots back onto my feet and was thrilled to find it grainy inside. I removed it, turned it over to dump it the best I could, then shoved a hand inside to finish the job. Then I did the other.

“Hmm. The seer wouldn’t be pleased if I sent you back into the desert without your sight. Come.” He gripped my shoulder, pulled me to my feet, then slid his hand down my arm to the elbow.

“Wait, did you say seer?” I was about to scan my interface for the correct tab when the system anticipated my desire and presented the quest I sought.

New Beginnings

Find your way out of the tunnels and back to the surface: Complete

Seek out Panza the Seer: Incomplete

“Oh, hell yes. Take me to your seer.”

28

Drums thundered. People howled. Chants followed the rhythm. Laughter rose beneath the ruckus surrounding me. A fire crackled, but I couldn’t imagine why in the dry heat. Then the scent of meat wafted to my nostrils. If not for the constant layer of sand coating my tongue, my mouth might have watered.

My presence seemed to have little effect on the celebrants. How they must have sweated.

“The seer’s tent is just here.” The hand swept away from my elbow. A scratching sound made me realize he announced his arrival with his fingernails instead of knocking.

An aged, grumbly voice replied in the bored tone of one who’d spoken the words thousands of times. “Who calls on the seer?”

“Seer, I found another strange one in the desert.”

Strange one?

“And you brought it here?”

“She has run afoul of the gila cultists. She is blind.”

“Ah. I have foreseen this. She may enter. Leave her with me.”

Canvas rustled, then a hand gave a gentle shove in the center of my back. The withdrawal of the sun lifted a weight from my head.

“Welcome, young one. You should be overjoyed, for you have arrived at the desert dwelling of the Rataka Clan. I am Seer Panza. What do your people call you?”

You have completed the quest:

New Beginnings

Objectives:

You found your way out of the tunnels and back to the surface.

You located Panza the Seer.

Rewards:

1,250 XP

One weapon for your currently equipped starter class.

The yellow meter of my XP bar filled to all but a sliver, but I was too exhausted for excitement. The seer awaited an answer.

“I have no people.”

“Ah, are all the others hermit nomads, as well?”

“Others like me? You mean, players?”

“Players?”

As if he would know what that meant.

He cleared his throat then grunted, and I assumed he rose to his feet when his voice emanated from nearby. “You mean, like hunters? Do they game in the desert?”

I shook my head. “They’re just… people. They’re not my people, but I suppose they’re like me.”

“We have driven them off for a long day. Their confidence exceeds their combat levels. They seem to fancy themselves great warriors, but many met untimely ends when their bravado outweighed their sense. How is it you’re like them, but they’re not your people? Where did they come from?”

“I wouldn’t know how to explain it.”

“Hmm. A strange reply.” A long silence ensued. “Are you of the spirit world?”

“Not exactly.” I was at a loss. “I’m from a distant land. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”

“Does this land have a name, since you seem hesitant to share your own?”

“My name is Kyra. I come from a place called… Earth.” It was the best I could do.

“Exactly as I foresaw.”

Either this game was really strange, or this guy was some kind of con artist. But gift horses and all that. I was in the shade of a tent. It was a stupid time to challenge my host.

“In my great wisdom, I predicted these troubles with these lizard people when I brought my tribe here.”

“Right.” I was definitely leaning toward con artist. Or maybe his specialty was hindsight.

“But perhaps our misfortune will be good fortune for you.” He clapped his hands, and I jerked. “It is lucky that you’ve come to me.” His voice trailed off as his feet slid on whatever surface was underfoot. A rustling followed.

For all I knew, he’d yank out a dagger and slice me into quarters for the fire outside. After all, I’d sniffed meat on the air.

Was this the crappiest starting area in Enora? Somewhere on the forums I had read that this place had more landmass then all the planets in the solar system. I couldn’t imagine the potential diversity of a world terraformed by an AI intelligent enough to transfer human consciousnesses.

“Come.” He grasped my arm. “Sit here. Close your eyes. This salve will help restore your sight.”

He set his fingertips against my temples then smeared something pasty over my eyelids.

“How long does it usually take?”

“The salve requires nearly a day to fully cure your blindness.”

I suppressed a sigh.

Exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks. A warm, fuzzy ton of bricks that made me want to curl up on a couch and nap the day away.

The seer responded as if he’d read my thoughts. “The salve will also help you to find some much-needed rest. You may lie back on this cot. You will be my guest until your sight has returned. Would you like the company of one of my tribesmen? Perhaps Yanke, the one who brought you? I hear he’s quite virile.”

“You’re offering me a sex partner?”

“Only if it suits your customs and desires.”

“Hard pass, bud.” After a few heartbeats, I added. “That means no, thank you.”

“You have full breasts. I’m sure a child filled with Yanke’s essence would be well-fed by them, if that’s your concern.”

Jesus wept. What in the utter f—

“I’m not looking to bear children then travel the desert. Thanks.”

“Oh, such lost potential, I’m sure.” He paused. “As you wish, Kyra of Earth. May the Mother grant you a peaceful sleep.”

The cot’s padding proved thick and luxurious, but I kicked the fur off one side. Who in the hell needed that in the desert?

Although I worried the drums would stick wakefulness to my head like flypaper, I soon slipped into a near-comatose sleep.

29

Water rippled in a cavern awash in light by shining crystals beneath the surface of walls with glassy faces. A giant pool lapped water around its perimeter so suds painted the stony surface. I crouched, dabbed two fingers, then tasted them.

Salt.

When I rose to take in the rest of the scene, I spied massive stalactites hanging from the ceiling. The lights in the walls dimmed when I took them in. As the crystals’ influence waned, the view was painted in a greenish hue. Nausea crept into my belly as darkness snuffed out the light.

Two tiny green lights bloomed in the distance. Grasping my wand, I paced one careful step at a time. The lights brightened like someone nearby turned a dial. A stone face with a long snout and scaly skin surrounded them. Emerald eyes. A gila. A discolored hand.

I tumbled backward when a giant figure awash in shadow exploded from the ground behind the statue, Tentacles shot out in all directions then waved with fury.

“Come unto me, Shénhuà, and learn the path to the power of the Darkness!”

* * *

I shot awake to the sound of flapping canvas, and the soft yellow light of the tent’s interior welcomed me from my first ever slumber within the world of Enora.

And I could see!

My heart beat my ribs like they’d offended it. The dim image of a tentacled monster and the thick, raspy voice creeping in my ears bloomed anew.

I muttered. “I just dreamed in a damned video game.”

You are now rested.

When you rest in an eligible area, such as a town, village, or city, you receive a four-hour rest bonus.

Your rest bonus will last for four hours.

Effect: +15% XP

Resting Heart Rate: 48 BPM

Heart Rate Variability: Excellent

An old man hunched in the entryway of the tent so the sun behind him shaded his features.

“You called out in your sleep.”

“Oh. Weird dream.”

“Exactly as I foresaw. The paste I used to cure your blindness sometimes has this effect. I study this with great interest. Perhaps you’d share what you saw.”

I didn’t know what it could hurt.

“A cavern. A gila statue. A pool of salt water. Then a giant monster cast in shadow with huge tentacles.”

The seer thrust a hand of splayed fingers to his chest. “Tentacles, you say?” His wide eyes gave the impression he was put off. “Did it… speak to you?” The way he paused mid-sentence left doubt as to whether he really wanted me to answer.

I knew there’d been words, but I couldn’t gather them in my conscious state. I closed my eyes, focused, redrew the scene in my mind.

“Come unto me…”

Holy crap. It said Shénhuà. That was the word Fowler mentioned.

“Come unto me, Shénhuà, and learn the path to the power of Darkness.”

The seer took a step back into the sun. “Did you say… Shénhuà?”

When he stepped inside, I scanned his leathery, sun-spotted skin and dark, watery eyes. A hump rose in his back as he moved in a perpetual bow. His eyebrows set a little off-center and wiggled when he talked, like a mating pair of albino caterpillars. He was draped in light fabrics well-suited for the desert. I wished I’d had a set.

“Yes, Shénhuà. You know about it?”

“But this cannot be.” He shook his head with fierce determination. “Myths. Legends. But if Necri’tes calls out to you…”

“Who?”

“I will repeat my query of yesterday, Kyra. Do you come from the spirit world?”

Although I had doubts about lying to a sentient NPC in my new world, I pushed ahead. What could it hurt?

“Yes. I am from the spirit world.”

The seer’s jaw dropped.

You are being offered a Legacy Quest!

The Paths to Light and Darkness

The world of Enora has evolved for over three millennia. The creatures and humanoids of this world live unique lives. Because anything can happen in Enora, the fates of players and NPCs are intertwined. Often, NPCs will have information from which you could greatly benefit.

This is one of those times.

Objective:

Listen to the seer’s tale of the Shénhuà.

Rewards:

5 Gold

A new title

Would you like to accept this quest?

(You should accept this quest.)

Talk about a no-brainer.

“Why did you ask?”

Dazed, the seer dropped to one knee then touched his temples with a middle finger and thumb. I decided to keep my trap shut while he processed whatever was burning in his brain, but I got the impression Legacy quest really meant something.

In truth, I’d forgotten all about Fowler’s mention of the Shénhuà. He hadn’t even given me a hint, so if this guy was about to hand out some lore, I was in.

But when he didn’t answer, I grew impatient and repeated my query. “Why did you ask me if I was from the spirit world?”

His head rose, his hand dropped, then his eyes glossed over in pure white. His voice came in a low grumble as if a second being spoke from within. “Because I have foreseen this.”

Okay. Creepy.

When the natural color of his irises didn’t return, I scooted back on the cot.

The low grumble continued. “Ages ago, Lau was invaded by adventurers who came to be known as the Mythics. They began like newborn babes, and the mighty goddess Solara commanded them to go forward an earn their way in the world.

“Like all beings, they started at level 1. But as the Mythics leveled, it was discovered they could bind the people of Enora in a kind of symbiotic relationship that granted them immortality.”

His eyes flashed, then he continued. “By the will of Solara, they built foundations. Garrisons. Towns. And in other lands, great cities.”

“Wow. That all sounds dope.”

Note to self: Solara.

He carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. “But their reign would be short-lived. In Lau, one who could not rightly be called Shénhuà, despite his origins, fell under the charms of the Dark One. His kind were called Akuma.

“The Akuma discovered a tome of Shadow magic then read from it to cast a region far to the north of here in blight. Demons rose from the decrepit ground and destroyed the ancient city of Noshal’aka in days. Soon after, the Shénhuà vanished from Enora, never to be seen again.”

“What was this dark mage’s name?”

“He had many. The most common by which he is known in our oral histories is Arturus. But you’d do well never to speak it. The great wars he caused brought death and destruction that still touches us to this day.”

“I’m sorry, what? This was how long ago?”

“Over two thousand years.”

How the hell was that possible? I’d read something about how Infinity had fast-forwarded the world to allow it to evolve naturally. Did that play in somehow? An inkling ticked in my brain, but I couldn’t quite grasp it.

“What did they war over after the blight?”

“Magic.”

Somehow, when he didn’t continue, the one-word answer left me feeling unsatisfied. I decided to dig a little. “Magic?”

He nodded, then his eyes flashed again. My chin dropped.

Holy shit. The AI is controlling this guy right now. It has to be. Is this because I died in the world? I thought Enora was supposed to be a hands-off proposition.

“The warlords of the ancient Lauan Council mandated that magic would be banned. The acts of Arturus rippled across the continent, trade was stifled when the central hub was destroyed. Those unfortunate enough to live far from the blighted city often died of starvation as poverty consumed their villages. Adventuring ground to a halt. Most appealing of all, magicians recruited to push back the demon hordes of the Great Blight were murdered in their sleep by the same warlords who employed them to aide Lau.”

“That’s some two-faced shit, right there.”

Where the NPC I’d met walking into the tent might have tilted his head in curiosity, this one didn’t even blink. “You speak true, Shénhuà.”

Wait, did he just call me—

“So, as you see, not all Mythics chose the path of the Light. Many chose the way of Hokrahm. The Path to Darkness to which Necri’tes now calls you. The question now, Shénhuà, is which path will you choose?”

You have two paths to choose from:

The Path of the Light

Deity: Solara

Solara, the creator of all and purveyor of the Light in Enora, calls upon her followers to do battle in the name of justice. Warriors of her faction who fight for the weak and do deeds of service that grace the Light receive disposition bonuses.

The Path of Darkness

Deity: Hokrahm

Hokrahm, the Master of Darkness who dwells in the fiery underworld of Enora, derives pleasure from the dark doings of his followers. Murder and mayhem are staples of the adventurer’s life on the Path of Darkness. Warriors of the vilest inclinations who bring pain and misery to those they encounter receive disposition bonuses from Hokrahm.

The faction you choose will affect your disposition toward NPCs in Enora if you make them known, or if they enjoy a high enough Analysis skill rank to learn it.

Players of opposing factions receive bonus XP for killing members of the opposite faction.

At higher ranks, dispositions can grant rewards such as special quests, monetary compensation, epic gear, unique titles, and many others.

Although you may choose your path now and enjoy the related bonuses, behaviors contrary to the will of your chosen deity will affect your disposition with the path. For instance, a warrior of the Light who murders without cause will lose disposition points with the Light and could suffer penalties.

NPCs whose affinities drop low enough into the Path of Darkness are susceptible to Hokrahm’s allure, and vice versa.

Alignments such as Chaotic and Lawful are determined by your disposition with your chosen path. If you choose the path of Darkness, your ability to learn Lawful and Neutral languages upon hearing them will flip so you learn Chaotic and Neutral languages.

All beings speak Common.

Which path will you follow?

Light/Darkness

Note: You will not be forced to choose a path, but your actions from here out will affect your Light/Darkness dispositions.

It all seemed a bit sudden. I could see the douchebags I’d worked with and the ones who’d tried to gank a blind woman on the bridge choosing a more shadowy path. And someone like Carol from HR would make a fine fucking paladin. But in most cases, I tended to land somewhere in the middle. This black and white choice didn’t sit well.

I swept the dialogue away.

Your Current Disposition is Neutral.

Special Information:

There is only one other Mythic in Enora Online. Although other players can bind NPCs to themselves and render them immortal, they do not benefit from the title of Shénhuà in the ways you will.

If you choose the Path of Darkness the title awarded will be: Akuma

When I looked up, the seer’s eyes had returned to their normal color, and his head whipped over each shoulder like he’d lost someone. I imagined he was a bit spaced. After a couple quicker swivels, he turned his attention my way.

“Careful now. Don’t rise too fast.” He thrust out a skin with thick stitches around the outside. “Water will refresh you.”

I drained it without regard for propriety.

You have completed a Legacy Quest!

The Paths to Light and Darkness

You listened to the seer’s tale of the Shénhuà.

Reward: 5 Gold

New title: The Indecisive

You will be awarded a new title when you select a path.

“Good. We shall get you fed then you will be on your way. With our good wishes, of course.”

It was as if he’d totally lost the conversation, leaving little doubt the AI intervened. For all the talk about a self-managed world in Infinity’s online information, it seemed they’d broken the rules for me. At least I knew it could be done.

Still, I wondered how Gemini’s and my titles—Shénhuà and whatever I chose—would affect us differently. If the people of the world knew what a Shénhuà was—the seer had known before the AI intervened to prove they did—and no other players enjoyed the same benefits, how would we be different?

Either way, the idea of immortal bound companions sounded interesting. I couldn’t wait to learn of the benefits. Then again, would I want someone following me around forever? Did bound mean bound?

The seer leaned on a cane and waited as I yawned, stretched, then swept sand off my clothes. Someone had been kind enough to take my boots off so my feet hadn't begun to rot. When I slipped them on, I detected nary a grain of sand nor a bit of moisture.

Hallelujah.

Although I was certain that would change soon.

I figured I should ask a few questions while I was getting ready if only to get the lay of the land and figure out where I was supposed to go next.

“Are you nomads?”

“Only of late. My people were once the inhabitants of a great city in the heart of Lau. Not long ago, war broke out. Then the destruction I had foreseen befell our city.”

The humor hit me. The dude wasn’t a seer at all, but Enora’d used him as one to give me the lowdown on Mythics. That was pure fucking gold. Genius!

I slid off the cot, strapped on my weapons and rucksack, then followed him though the tent flap.

“Why the war?”

“Because people don’t stop to enjoy their prosperity for long. After the tribes of Lau banded together to defeat the Bonchu—do you know of them?”

“No. I’m new to this region.”

“Right. Earth. The Bonchu inhabit a continent across the Great Sea to the east. They invaded to steal the many resources with which the goddess blesses us. Because we aren’t heathens like those cretin bastards.

“No sooner had we driven the Bonchu off than the warlords of Lau turned on one another. A recurring event in our history, you see. A pastime. We mined, foraged, and struggled to gather resources for the war, then the clan leaders fought over them.”

“Who started it? Didn’t the rest consider teaming up to take them out, then divvying up the resources?”

He waved a dismissive hand as we passed into the sun. An unwelcome warmth, in my mind, but the sight of it was something I’d never take for granted again. I’d be looking for a genuine blindness antidote at my first opportunity.

“They couldn’t even agree who started the conflict. Each tribe blames the other, and each warlord claims innocence. But their excuses do little to ease the suffering of my people.”

“If history repeats itself, I’m surprised one so powerful as you didn’t see it coming.”

The old man glared for an instant like he wanted to drive a dagger through my heart. Then he smiled, and it barely seemed forced, at all.

The camp sat in a recess with high dunes on all sides. Weathered tents were stitched across the sand with a blackened fire pit at the center.

I wonder where they got the wood.

A few horses stood under a shade canopy, and people milled about, tugging tent lines and watering the animals.

I likened their features to those of Asian descent. No one seemed concerned about a shade elf strolling through camp. In fact, they spared me nary a glance.

“I really appreciate you giving me a place to rest.”

“I foresee that you will be asking me where you should go when you leave this place.”

“Your abilities are uncanny.”

“No way will be easy with the civil war all around. The ban on magic has been lifted by all the warlords so they don’t suffer a disadvantage. Magicians all over Lau rise up. The lack of commerce in many villages leads to crime. You should avoid them. Outsiders are sure to be targets. If I were you, I would escape Lau as soon as possible. Perhaps by the sea to the west. There is a town about a day’s hike to the northwest. You will find supplies for your journey. Perhaps even work, if employment is what you seek.”

I did like the sound of work. So long as work meant XP and quests.

“Much destruction has come from over the seas.” We reached a communal space covered by a canopy where three people picked at meat with their fingers. The seer waved his hand in a wide horizontal arc. “You may eat your fill.”

“Thank you, Seer.”

I dug in. Some colorful root vegetables, plums, dates, what looked like turkey legs and peelings from a giant glazed roast filled my belly by the time I was done. And I received zero food buffs.

At least the seer foresaw my hunger. After the previous day, starting with a meal and a general direction to travel was a gift.

I was handed a waterskin and what amounted to a doggy bag.

The tribe who’d ignored me until then formed a circle around the seer to send me on my way. Panza thrust out one arm, and a huge man with a curved bone shoved through his nose stepped forward to slap a stick into his hand.

The seer thrust it toward me. “I noticed you are a caster. Our shaman passed recently, but he created this before his journey to the spirit world. We would send it with you as a symbol to the world that our tribe thrives.”

So, that was my quest reward. Interesting how the game presented it via a proxy instead of just popping it onto my back or something. My inner voice suggested it’d be rude to analyze the gift, so I just gave a half-bow and thanked him.

“I’m going to check out the town you suggested, to stock up. I appreciate the advice.”

I hoped what few coins jingled in my pouch might be enough for provisions. If I’d kept more than the compass Drew found in the box underground, I’d have more coin. What really irritated me was he couldn’t use it, now.

“Good luck in your travels.”

One of the villagers ran from behind the tents then pushed through the crowd. He leaned over to whisper in the old man's ear. The seer’s eyes grew wide.

“The Khar’khun have arrived. You must be gone, Kyra.”

A mounted figure appeared atop the dune over the seer’s shoulder. Although shirtless, it wore a black helmet. He twirled an axe overhead then charged down the hill. The seer directed soldiers to engage. More riders crested the hill, bearing swords, spears, and the like. Somebody in the village screamed. All tanned and shirtless, they looked ridiculous with metal helmets to protect their heads.

To run struck me as rude. Besides, there might be some XP to gain here. But if I died before level 10, I’d be screwed, and chaos was coming. Although my internal debate didn’t last long, the riders reached the camp by the time I decided.

I clutched my new staff and lurched forward, but the seer shoved a palm to my chest.

“This is not your fight. It would dishonor my clan to endanger a guest. You must flee.” When I hesitated, his gaze turned to glare. “Now!” He thrust a finger over my shoulder to point away from the camp. Although hesitant, I hurried up a dune, away from the combat.

My shoulders jerked high when screams filled the air behind me, but I forced my eyes forward, thankful I could see, and fought deep sand in my ascent.

By the time I reached the top of the dune, my discipline failed me, and I wheeled to look back. Two figures on horseback burst through the center of the camp, crushing the blackened wood from the fire of the night before, making a beeline for me.

30

For the first time since recovering my sight, I stood in the open. It was like a weight of constant apprehension and an uncharacteristic lack of confidence slid away. With the lifting of the claustrophobia that accompanied blindness, part of me was ready to take on the world. I had the high ground and a fire wand. The threats approached in plain sight as they rode up the face of the sand dune.

But this wasn’t the time to get cocky—as my analysis of the closest combatant revealed.

Unknown Marauder

Level 13 Human

That was total shit. In what universe was it fair for a level 13 to run around an area where level 7s roamed? Then it occurred that, if I hadn’t been blinded, I might have ended up underground longer, earned more experience, leveled up. It was also possible Enora didn’t divide areas so only mobs of a certain level roamed given regions. But if that was true, how were players expected to advance?

He’s a marauder. He wasn’t here for you. You’re the one who is out of place, so get your head out of your backside before they run you down and over.

When a quick check revealed the second rider enjoyed the same six-level advantage, I figured I was screwed. But this time, the prospect of death carried weight. My frustration of the day before—my willingness to tumble over the edge of a bridge and return to level 1 if it meant taking a couple gankers with me—morphed into fear. Now sighted and three levels short of immortality, I didn’t want to start over.

You’re still inside your head Kyra. Think!

I reached for my spear.

Do you want to change your class to Spearman?

I had spells now. Screw that. But I could draw them in with the spear, maybe catch them by surprise when I broke out the real shit.

The first one carried a one-handed mace whose knobby head reflected the sunlight. The rider behind carried a sword.

I crouched then tensed my quads in preparation for impact as visualizations of shoving the spear into the first marauder’s bare chest then sending him flying through space whipped through my adrenalized brain.

But in true Enoran form, things didn’t work out like my daydreams. Hooves kicked up sand. The muscles throughout my arms tensed as the rider bore down and, before I knew what was happening, the spear I’d grasped moments earlier soared through the air behind me as I thumped to my duff to avoid being decapitated.

“Son of a bitch!”

I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to find the first rider’s mount slowing to turn, then I set my attention on the more immediate threat. The second marauder bore down at an even faster clip than the first.

I struggled to my feet, drew my staff, then smiled at my intuition to remain a caster. When I focused on the marauder ahead, my abilities were cast in gray. He was out of range.

I snatched my wand from my belt, thrust it out, then focused on the ability in my HUD. An airy sensation filled my chest before warm energy funneled from my core to my shoulder then down to the weapon. Fingers of fire shot from the branches, merged at the tip, then a fireball tore through space.

It whipped toward the rider’s face, but he slipped his head to one side at the last moment so it sailed into nothingness then evaporated. So much for ranged weapons—I needed him closer. The way his mount bore down without slowing in the least, he seemed willing to accommodate. Just before his shadow fell over me, I fired the wand again. Swirling flames burst under his chin, clung to his helmet then singed the hair on his chest.

Unknown Marauder

- 17 HP

It didn't do much damage, but the unexpected impact and his desperate patting of his chest hair proved enough to topple him from his horse. His arms flailed then he slammed into the sand, sending a plume to swirl in a vortex around him in the twisting wind.

The swishing sounds of hooves brought my head around just in time to duck beneath a second decapitation effort. My chest hit the ground, expelling my breath. This time the rider brought his horse to a stop then twisted to eye me through the slits in his helmet.

Heaving in a deep breath, I planted both fists while clutching the wand as I kicked up onto my feet.

When he was halfway dismounted, I whipped the wand in his direction and more streams of fire ejected from the tiny branches to form a fireball. It slammed into his helmet, but he stomped forward like he hadn’t noticed.

You use Lesser Wand of Fireballs

Unknown Marauder 1 resists.

Now that he stood on level ground with me, I wondered how he actually seemed bigger than he had on horseback. The marauder squared his shoulders, let his weapon-bearing arm drop to one side, then cocked his head forward. Despite the helmet covering his face, I knew he smiled.

So, I smiled back in that way that never quite reaches one’s eyes. “Hello, motherfucker.”

His head jerked back. The mace came up. He growled.

“I guess that’s common tongue, yeah?”

He lurched forward and got another fireball in his chest.

Unknown Marauder

- 17 HP

He stumbled back on impact this time, so I cocked it back then fired again. Then again.

Unknown Marauder

- 19 HP

Unknown Marauder

- 21 HP

He charged. Knowing I’d only have so many shots with the five second cool-downs, I turned tail to get some distance.

If he couldn’t catch me, he’d have to be a hell of a sword thrower. But I rendered that academic when I tripped over my robe as my feet crossed in the sand then face-planted. I spat grit, then rolled onto my back as his shadow fell over me.

He tilted his head to stare down at me, like I wasn’t really a threat that required any hurry. He might have been right, but that pissed me off.

My spells list zipped to the side of my interface. My eyes flitted back and forth desperately, then landed on the winner.

Psionic blast

Use the powers of your mind to interrupt enemy attacks and cause temporary mental damage.

When I focused on the name of the spell, an animation appeared of an elven woman pressing her fingers to her temples then craning her head forward. White beams of energy shot from her eyes.

The expression was familiar. I’d glared like that at assholes from work every day, just never so effectively.

I focused on the ability, directing it at the marauder standing over me as the second’s boots patted sand en route to joining us. Nothing happened. Frustrated, I ground my teeth then tried again, glaring as if to, well, shoot laser beams.

Again, nothing.

Then he raised his weapon.

What focus couldn’t do, fear did. Energy warmed my head. It whipped up so fast inside my mind, I likened it to sticking my fingers in an electrical outlet—hey, we were all kids once. My vision flashed white.

You use Psionic Blast

Unknown Marauder 1

-22 HP

Additional Affect: Confusion

The mace dropped to the sand, then his palms slapped either side of his helmet. He let out a single grunt, his knees buckled, then he dropped. Although it occurred to me that 22 damage was probably my best shot in Enora so far, I couldn’t help but gape at the effectiveness of the spell against a higher level—

The second marauder lunged.

The wand was ready. I aimed for his stupid metal-covered face.

You use Lesser Fire Wand.

The fire exploded in the center of his abs. So much for my aim. After a lumbering step backward, he steadied himself. But I was already on my feet, creating some distance before they came to their senses. I reached for my staff, but it was gone. Then I recalled dropping it when I’d last attacked the dune with my ass.

But when I scanned in front, I caught a glimmer in the sand.

The tip of my spear!

I crouched as I charged by then swept it up.

Do you wish to switch to Spearman class?

I did.

The swordsman howled a long syllable then I glanced over my shoulder to find him mounted and charging.

I searched for an ability but the global cooldown was in effect.

No matter how I pumped my legs, the horse closed in seconds then a searing pain ripped across one triceps as the sword-wielding marauder rode by. A fiery hell radiated up and down the nerves in my arms, my fingers formed involuntary claws, then my wand tumbled from my grasp.

Unknown Marauder #2 uses Iron Sword.

-25 HP

That. Freaking. Hurt!

A chunk of my health meter emptied.

Tendrils of smoke rose from the first marauder’s chest. His horse galloped away and over the ridge, so he snatched up his mace and started toward me on foot with the easy confidence of a horror movie villain. Hoofbeats brought my head around again, and I spun away just in time to avoid the tip of a sword separating my spine.

You dodge Unknown Marauder 2’s attack.

Your Dodge skill has reached Rank 5.

When the swordsman rode past his compatriot, I turned as if to haul ass. Then I stopped, facing the endless sea of sand with the sun bearing down on my back. I’d never escape this mess at this rate. Two guys. Six levels higher. Brawny. Seasoned. And with one on horseback, I’d be dodging every few seconds until his mace-wielding friend caught up and pounded me into a bloody mess.

I needed a better plan, but all I could come up with was—

Don’t be a wuss!

I turned, faced the marauder with the mace, then crossed my body with the spear in a defensive stance. He might have hesitated for a moment, but I couldn’t be sure. His strides grew longer, then he howled as he charged.

Wait for it.

He raised the mace over one shoulder as the muffled howls fought to escape from inside the heavy helmet.

Wait for it.

His heels kicked up sand. The muscles in his weapon-bearing arm tensed. I figured they were both pissed. After all, their combined levels dwarfed mine. Hell, I only faced them because they’d chase me down if I didn’t.

When he reached what I hoped was the optimal distance, I twisted, raised the spear over one shoulder, then clenched my teeth as I thrust my weapon with all the might I could muster over my pain.

The clumsy implement wobbled as it cut the air.

You throw your spear.

I flinched, my every muscle tensed, my every mental effort committed to using by-god telekinesis to guide that damned weapon. The marauder whipped his mace across his body in an attempt to deflect the spear. There was a hollow clank then a moment’s trepidation caused me to shiver, but he’d succeeded only in redirecting it.

Right into the soft spot between his pecs and stomach.

Critical Hit!

Mortal Wound!

(Aortic puncture)

Dark blood erupted from the gaping slit in his gut. The mace tumbled when he dropped to his knees. His helmet tilted down as his hands clutched the spear then pulled it out.

Unknown Marauder #1

-14 HP (Bleed)

-15 HP (Bleed)

-17 HP (Bleed)

As his partner turned then charged back in our direction, a new window popped up in the top right of my interface where it wouldn’t block my view.

You have discovered a new ability:

Spear Toss

Hurl your spear to impale enemies from range.

Type: Ranged Attack

Damage Type: Physical

Damage: 14-19

Maximum Range: 5 yards

The dying man forced himself to his feet on wobbly knees. I knew a six-level advantage was no trifle, but if Enora’s realism equated to anything…

His body folded beneath him then thumped to the sand.

You have defeated Unknown Marauder #1!

+878 XP

+25% XP Bonus for killing an enemy of higher level.

Congratulations!

You have reached level 8.

+1 Strength

+1 Constitution

You have been awarded one attribute point.

The liquids in my health and stamina meters gurgled then filled. The pain in my injured arm became an echo. I thrust a victorious fist into the air as the tympanic music filled my ears and golden light surrounded me before funneling skyward.

After I hustled over to recover my spear, I glared into the sun at the charging swordsman who’d stopped to consider me when his friend tumbled in death. I hooked one finger in a beckoning gesture.

“You want to get down, motherf—”

The swordsman howled in anger. Even with a helmet adorning his massive head, it rang clear enough for me to know I’d just poked the beehive.

I dropped the two elective points into Strength. Screw it, I’d live here all my life. The game wasn’t going anywhere.

He kicked his heels, then the horse launched. The sword twirled in his grasp as he closed.

I crouched and waited, determined not to show an ounce of fear. I wanted him off that horse.

When he closed within the last few feet, I dipped to one knee. His sword swung wide over my head as I thrust the spear hard in an upward arc. It lodged into his hip, the butt end braced into the ground. His momentum carried him over me, where he slammed into the sand.

I was just glad I hadn’t hit the horse.

Unknown Marauder #2

-19 HP

-14 HP (Bone Break)

-19 HP (Bleed)

You have learned a new Spearman Ability:

Pitch

Thrust with your spear then use your enemy’s momentum against them to swing them overhead and slam them into the ground.

Type: Melee attack

Cost: 50 Stamina

Damage Type: Physical

Damage: 11-19

Cast Time: Instant

Cooldown: 10 Seconds

The swordsman squirmed, cradling his wounds as blood spurted into rivers between his fingers, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Gross. Exhilarating. All that.

Six levels! Damn! Anything is possible!

He tried to rise but his hip wouldn’t hold. When I approached, he thrust his sword in a final effort to gut me, but I twisted the spear to one side and the weapon slipped from his grasp. It spiraled skyward then lodged into the sand tip first.

Your Parry skill has reached Rank 2.

+1.5% chance to parry melee attacks against enemies of equal or lower level. Diminished effectiveness against enemies of higher level.

When he raised his bloody hands as if to beg for mercy, I faked a thrust to his helmeted head. He twisted away, then I punched the tip into his chest.

Your Feint skill has reached rank 2.

“You should have let me go.” I twisted. Twisting was fun.

The warrior reached beneath his chin then shoved off his helmet, gasping for air. I jerked away when his body convulsed—not in a death throes kind of way, but a weird shimmering, vibrating kind of way.

A blue wave of energy shot up his neck then washed over his face. He howled as the flesh in his arms and legs cracked and purple light rose in tendrils from the gaps. The oiled muscles dried up, replaced by a gray pasty skin.

“Gick!” He spat. “Gick!” Blood erupted from between his lips then painted his chin.

“What the hell is going on with you, dude?” The convulsions double-timed so he was a twisting blur, but before he could finish the cycle, thunder erupted behind me.

I wheeled. A third marauder’s horse hustled my way. I dropped my shoulders, then sighed. I winked my eyes in succession.

Unknown Marauder

Level 19 Human

Okay, a few levels was one thing, but eleven?

Nope. No way.

He stopped at the top of the rise to dismount then stared at me through the slits in his own metal helmet. I couldn’t help but wonder—if I ripped it off his stinking head, would he convulse in a blur, too?

It was like he grew skyward when he approached, and his neck grew about thick as his helmet.

I backed away, clutching my bloody spear. When he stepped over the body of the fallen swordsman, he unslung an axe the size of a baby grand.

I booked in the other direction. At least my stamina was full.

My feet fought for purchase in the uphill climb through deep sand, causing me to stumble. I cast a glance over my shoulder.

Men’s’ Big and Tall paced himself. His boots rose high, then stomped deep.

Before I knew it, my Stamina meter was blinking in protest over the steep, deep uphill climb.

You have gained +1 stamina

Exercise pays dividends!

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

A horse whinnied then trotted over the dune crest. It stopped to stare down at me. I turned my gaze from the giant, to the equine, then to the giant again, I ran my tongue over my gums inside my top lip then let out a loud whistle, praying it would work.

The horse whinnied, tilted his head back and forth a few times, then stood a few steps backward.

Shit.

The gargantuan warrior picked up the pace. Sand clouds kicked up behind his high steps. So, I turned and slogged uphill again to reduce his chances. But when I approached the horse, it backed off again.

He wasn’t having it.

I reached out with one hand then adopted my sweetest voice. “Hey, babe. I bet I smell a lot better than those dudes.” I thrust the thumb of my other hand over one shoulder. “What do you say, want a lighter load to carry?”

The horse twisted its head a few times, and that’s when I noticed a blue glow enveloping my arm.

When I paused to ask the Enoran universe, “What the hell?” The energy retreated. I sweetened my voice again, stared into the horse’s eyes, then smiled. “I think you want a new master, baby. I’ll find you the best horse food money can buy. You get me out of here, and you’ll eat so well that I’ll have to send you to a farm where you can grow old and fat in comfort.” The energy continued to creep until it reached my wrist. Although my every instinct screamed for me to gauge the giant’s approach, I focused.

When the energy reached my fingertips, the frames of my interface blinked twice. The horse galloped forward so I stood next to its saddle.

Well done!

Using your keen intuition about the world around you, you have learned the skill:

Pacify

Cost: 25 Mana

Cast Time: 10 Seconds

Cooldown: N/A

Your Pacify skill is Rank 1.

Does not work on creatures of higher level than you.

Reward: 150 XP

Well Done!

Suschula is now your pet.

The threat grunted behind me, but I didn’t dare turn. Although I had to kick good and high to get my foot in the stirrup, the one thing Enora hadn’t robbed me of was my flexibility. Once in the saddle, I slapped the horse’s side. “Go, baby. Get us out of here.” When the horse lit off up the hill, I turned to spy the giant standing just a few feet from the beginning of the trail of horse hoof indentations leading our way.

31

My Stamina bar recovered and pride swelled inside over my defeat of two much higher-level enemies, then a realization punched me in the frontal lobe. The Seer. His tribe. They’d likely been wiped out by the superior force. I wondered how many of them experienced a dying revelation that their seer saw exactly shit.

I frowned. Their seer hadn't been the most gracious of hosts, but he’d fed me and given me a place to sleep.

Kyra, they’re NPCs. Chill.

Then horror overcame me when I recalled the loss of my new staff. Wincing, knowing what I’d find, I reached over my shoulder and patted nothing but the back of my robe. The spear was gone, too.

Even if I could change to the spearman class without the weapon—which I couldn’t—it wasn’t going to do me any good.

My horse whinnied as if to remind me she was there.

You have discovered a new skill: Riding.

Your riding skill is rank 1.

Well, that was something.

Then she bucked me. Despite the soft sand for a landing spot, I coughed up all the wind in my lungs. I heaved dry air with little success for the first twenty seconds or so. Black pulsed in a frame around my vision, and it had nothing to do with my interface. Right when I thought I’d pass out, my lungs forced a deep heave down my throat to inflate themselves. I gasped with relief.

That bucking bitch came at my call, and I drew deep breaths before I dared touch her. Knowing my luck, Enoran animals responded as authentically as other beasts and humanoids, and the horse might respond to my negative energy. The last thing I needed was to have to kick up sand for god knew how long.

A few pats eased her disposition, and we eventually came to a tentative truce.

Your riding skill has reached rank 2.

I reviewed the mechanics surrounding my riding skill. Although my Constitution allowed for 150 minutes in the saddle, it hadn’t seemed that much time has passed. A quick check of my system clock assuaged my doubts.

Despite my mistrust of the world surrounding me, I eventually tugged on the rope passing for a rein and eased her to a stop. When my feet dropped to the sand, I ran my fingernails along her body and up her neck then patted the side of her face. “What do you think, you want to stick around a while?”

Her belly rumbled in response, but it never quite reached her nostrils or mouth. I gazed at the info beneath my riding rank.

Riding Proficiencies:

Beginner

Ranks 1-25

Beginning riders must hold on for dear life until they’ve adapted to time in the saddle, for damage incurred by falling from a mount can be significant.

Beginners can ride for fifteen minutes per point of Constitution before their mounts will buck them.

Note: Saddle sores are a thing.

Apprentice

Rank 26-50

More familiar in the saddle, the sores are healing and Apprentice riders can stay mounted for 20 minutes per point of Constitution before their mounts will buck them.

While that was good to know, information scrolled with my eye movement at just the right pace to reveal way too much information without missing a word. I wondered if I could abbreviate it just to view the ranks, then all the text disappeared and was instantly replaced.

Riding Proficiencies:

Beginner: Ranks 1-25

15 minutes riding time per point of Constitution

Apprentice: Ranks 26-50

20 minutes riding time per point of Constitution

Expert: Ranks 51-75

25 minutes riding time per point of Constitution

Master: Ranks 76-100

30 minutes riding time per point of Constitution, depending on mount Stamina.

Then I scanned her stats.

Suschula

Level 8 Warhorse

Strength: 41

Dexterity: 12

Intelligence: 9

Wisdom: 1

Constitution: 41*

Charisma: 1

(*Points earned through life actions)

Disposition: Friendly

Status: Hungry

Next Rank: Endeared

The Friendly disposition caught me by surprise.

I focused on the word for a reminder.

Disposition:

A being’s orientation toward you.

Disposition is a measure of your relationship to others in the world of Enora.

Disposition States:

Despised

Hated

Hostile

Unfriendly

Neutral

Friendly

Endeared

Enamored or Respected

Beloved or Revered

My gaze stuck on the last two lines. I mused, then considered them until it came to me. So, Enamored and Beloved might apply to romantic relationships. Respected or Revered, platonic ones.

I would’ve bet on it.

I rubbed the horse’s nose. “Those barbarians gave you a weird name, huh? I think I'm going to call you Susan.”

She huffed.

“I’ll bet you're thirsty.”

I poured water into the palm of my hand from the waterskin, then repeated a dozen times until the horse drank a cup or two. I'd have to give her most of it if I wanted both of us to reach town.

A small pack was tied on near her rump, so I rustled through it and discovered some green root vegetables. Susan wolfed them, then her status changed from Hungry to Satiated.

Although I’d used the nifty compass on the top center of my interface to guide Susan, she’d been resistant to exact directions. I was starting to wonder if we would find the town the seer mentioned. He’d also talked about an ocean, and taking a semi-westerly path might lead us to it.

I checked my map, and although it revealed the region name, the discovery line’s breadth was pretty narrow. But when I zoomed out, a massive swath of blue to the west came into view, indicating an ocean.

The horse neighed. I scratched her nose.

“That’s a good girl.”

Susan let me climb back into the saddle without complaint.

If town was two days off, I’d have plenty of time to reread the information in my tabs.

The best thing about reading my interface was I could do it with my eyes closed. Or blind. The blazing desert sun tried to burn out my retinas, so I squeezed them shut then I read up on the Assassin class.

It wasn't ideal for my playing style, but it might come in handy if I had to sneak around or take single enemies out discreetly. It also had the potential to do a ton of damage. I noted a skill that accompanied the class.

You have learned a new skill:

Backstab

A vicious attack performed while stealth is active, causing 150% main-hand damage. Damage scales with level advancement. Chance of inflicting a mortal wound increased by 3%.

But ranged was more my jam, and there was nothing like a clumsy spear to reinforce the sentiment.

When night fell, I brought the steed to a halt. Although the two moons cast plenty of light and we could’ve journeyed on, my ass ached.

Saddle sores were a thing.

So we spent the night between two high dunes. When I slid her gear off, I was thankful I didn’t need to hobble her with a rope or anything.

* * *

The next morning before sunrise, I threw my arms up for a good stretch then my heart jumped into my throat. I threw glances over either shoulder, but Susan was nowhere to be seen. Half asleep and crusty eyed—in a game? Seriously?—I hustled up one of the high dunes. Relief washed over me like a cool waterfall on a humid day when I discovered her facing the glow of the rising sun painting the horizon.

Gah. You scared the urine out of my bladder, you twit.

We split what little water remained, thought I doubt either of us was satisfied when it was gone. I gave her a good deep scratch across the neck and body before I dressed then mounted her.

Mountains rose on the horizon the next morning. An hour later, the whisking sounds of horse hooves kicking up sand gave way to clops on hard packed clay. Rocks and dry brush were scattered about.

You have discovered the Lau Scrublands.

+75 XP

These arid lands form a barrier separating the desert from the mountains.

Squared and rounded shapes appeared in the distance, bringing a thump of desire to my chest.

I leaned down to mutter in Susan’s ear, but I couldn’t quite reach. “Are those buildings?”

As we drew closer, we found a narrow road that eventually led to a gathering of adobe houses with thatched roofs. A lone two-story clapboard building stood out among the lower, primitive structures on the central thoroughfare. It reminded me of a trading post from an old western.

When I drew the glares and stares of the people milling about the town I realized the quiet hospitality of the seer’s people hadn’t been so bad.

They weren’t impressed.

“I don't think they like us very much.” I patted Susan’s flank. The villagers blinked their eyes at me in succession. It still struck me as strange, NPCs analyzing players. But it definitely added a new equation to gaming.

Low utterances greeted me in passing. I had no problem understanding the words, and I recalled how my interface reported that I knew all lawful and neutral languages. The absence of pointy ears convinced me they spoke Common.

Because these people wore the same sun drenched skin as the campers in the desert, one very sunburnt redhead who ducked inside the larger wooden building stood out in the crowd.

I tied the horse to a post outside the largest building. There was no signage, but I assumed this one was a shop because the door was open and crates were stacked outside.

“Hello?” I peeked my head inside, but it took a few beats for my eyes to adjust after a morning in the desert sun. Shapes formed into stacks of dusty boxes, racks of tools and a wall of gunmetal gray weapons behind the counter. I spotted the young-ish, plump redhead behind the counter pretending to buff a suit of leather armor.

“Oh. Hello, there. Welcome to Mudvale, and welcome to Breeder’s Bard and Tackle. I’m Burntham Breeder.”

His bushy mustache bounced in rhythm with his words.

“Bard and tackle? Aren’t those horse supplies?”

“Oh, yes. Not as many horses in the deserts of Lau as I’d anticipated when I came to seek my fortune, but I carry on a line of merchants going back as far as my family can remember. Traders, you kin?”

“I kin. Where’d you travel from? You seem…” I eyed his pink flesh.

He chuckled. “Sunburned? Fair skinned?” He waved a hand. “I get that all the time… from those who bother talking to me. I hail from a place called Rubal across the eastern sea. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

I recalled Fowler lived there. I tucked that away for later. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Ah! Good. Everyone else around here looks at me like a pariah when I say the name, but you almost smiled. I like that.”

I considered his trade, then the mount I wasn’t sure I could afford to feed. With her easy disposition, I wanted to keep her. But it wasn’t practical, especially since I couldn’t afford to feed myself, even less the horse. Then again, I didn’t know if I actually had to feed myself. I raised my shoulder in a shrug intended for myself.

“Do you buy horses?”

He barked a single laugh then thrust a finger at his chest. “Do I look crazy?”

I cocked one eyebrow. “Um… no?”

“I know a Khar’khun horse when I see one. And you are not Khar’khun. I’ve been known to take on risks from time to time, and I usually get the better end of those deals.” He leaned forward. “You know, it’s in the blood and all. But just on the outside chance those no good, dirty…”

“So, I’m starting to get the inkling you aren’t interested in the horse.”

It was his turn to cock an eyebrow… and load it. “Your Perception skill must be quite high.”

Sarcasm. Great.

“Since you aren’t from around here, I’ll give you the short of it. The Khar’khun are led by an unforgiving warlord who’d just as soon see Lau fall underfoot. If you’re not serving him, you should be. And if you refuse, he’ll send fifty wild souls to raze everything you love. As I understand it, he did it here just a year ago. So, Khar’khun war horse? No thanks.”

“Explains why I was getting so many weird looks.”

“No. It isn’t your horse.”

My chin shot up from my analysis of the shop’s floorboards. “What? Care to elaborate?”

He racked the leather chest piece, then flipped his rag to scrub the top of the counter with the other side. “Eh, we get all manner of criminals here. Most of the town is criminals.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Don’t judge Lau by its wastelands. It’s a mighty continent with grand cities—just like western Rubal. But you wouldn’t know it looking at Mudvale.”

“Compared to the desert, how bad can Mudvale be?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I get by. We still see travelers from all over Lau. But these last two days have been a strange time. Folks appearing out of nowhere. Strange people straggling in such as we have not seen since the war with the Bonchu.”

“You sound suspicious.”

“You have a mana pool.” His eyes widened, then he lowered his gaze to the counter. The cloth swiped faster.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t look up. “What wouldn’t I mean? There was a time when you would have been ostracized for such a thing. Or outright killed.”

“I guess I’m lucky I didn’t get here earlier.”

“You joke, but there are still places you can’t travel. Be careful where you go and who you trust in Lau. Take it from one who knows. ”

The seer’s advice I leave the continent bounced between my ears.

I analyzed him and saw that he also had a mana pool.

His features twisted up.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Until recently, it was considered rude to analyze another without asking their leave. But I suppose these days you’d be foolish not to. Too much danger lurking.”

“Good to know.” My shoulders tensed. I forced them down.

Breeder was on edge. I had little doubt the new people he described were players. And if they’d straggled in, they weren’t in groups yet.

I thought of the millions of players who would be joining over the next couple of weeks. And the weeks after that. And after that. How would these NPCs cope? Would it be like the terraced farmlands? Wholesale slaughter for player entertainment and advancement? Or would wars break out?

Both, I suspected. Besides, I’d read something about NPC kill penalties.

I doubted any of them could imagine the obsessive persistence of gamers to triumph over a virtual world. Then I recalled the brutality of the marauders on horseback and—even though I’d been lucky to the highest degree—thought players might find out it wasn’t going to be so easy.

“So, Kyra.” He paused as if he’d noticed I was lost in thought. “Where is it you hail from?”

“Oh, I'm from all over.”

“I see. So you must have friends in the area? Are you a mercenary with one of the warlords? The Khar’kun don’t use mercenaries, but—”

“Would I tell you if I was?”

“In Mudvale? Yes. Mercenaries tend to advertise so people know to leave them alone.”

I swallowed a lump. “I’m just passing through.” I really had to come up with a better cover story.

“Well, if you’re an adventuring type, you could certainly find work these days. Earn a few upgrades.” His eyes covered the distance from my forehead to my tiny little toes in two seconds.

As I scanned the shop, my eyes fell on a staff wound with wide carvings. “If I'm being honest, Mr. Breeder, coming here wasn’t part of the plan until I asked a guy in the desert where I could provision.”

“I see.” He ditched the rag on a rail behind him, then leaned next to it, crossing his ankles and taking me in. “It took me a long time to earn the trust of the locals. So, if you want a bit of advice—”

I nodded with no small measure of enthusiasm. “Yes, please. Any tips would be appreciated.” And I meant it. A leg up would be a nice change.

“Keep your eyes down but active. Watch your back after sundown. Keep your wits about you. Be careful who you do business with. When said business is done, go on your way. While I’ve been somewhat accepted, it took me two years and no small number of bruises. Since the civil war has renewed itself, things get…”

I filled the empty space left by his long pause. “Unpredictable?”

His chin bobbed. “That’s the exact word I was looking for.”

“I’ll heed your advice, and I thank you for it.” My eyes wandered back to the staff.

“Are you in the market for a weapon?” He strolled to the rack and grabbed the exact staff from the row I’d been eyeing. He twirled then raised it. “Not a bad one, for the level.”

Shadow Staff of Lightning

This staff emits pulses to shock all enemies within 15 yards when its wielder scores critical hits.

Level 8

Type: Staff

Slot: Two-handed

Quality: Uncommon

Durability: 50 of 50

Melee Damage: 12- 20 HP

Lightning Damage Proc: 14-24

+1 Intelligence

+1 Wisdom

I smiled but didn’t allow any teeth to show. “I’m always in the market for gear.”

“Well, this staff costs seven gold.”

“Remind me, how does money add up around here?”

“Like anywhere else I’ve been. Ninety-nine copper equal one silver. Same conversion for silver to gold, ten gold gets you one platinum.”

I eyed my inventory. Five gold, fifty-five silver, and some copper “I’m way short. ”

“Ah. Too bad.” He dropped the staff back into the rack then turned. His gaze drifted to the open doorway.

“I know you’re not interested in a horse, but is there anything else? Someone told me I might be able to find work while I was here. Something like a quest?”

His eyebrow arced at the mention of quests, and he shot me a knowing smile.

“The others were asking about quests, too. You sure you’re alone?”

“I swear it.”

He cast a suspicious eye. “And you’re willing to take on… riskier endeavors?”

Emphasis on the one word drew my own suspicions. “As long as the reward is commensurate with the risk.”

He nodded. “Maybe we can come to an arrangement.” He pulled the tails on his shirt to straighten them. “After all, I am a businessman.”

Breeder strolled around the counter, pulled out a small leather pouch with a folding flap then shoved it across. “You’ll need those.”

32

I grabbed some veggies from a stall on the southern side of town at Burntham Breeder’s suggestion, then rode my horse over a dune and out of sight. After cozying up most of the day in the shadows of a recess in one of the rocky hills, I was all too ready to stretch my legs when quest time came.

The way he explained it, Burntham had come to town just when another bard and tackle vendor’s business was going under. When Burntham managed to survive for a while in the horse trade, the other vendor took a disliking to him. Burntham ignored the merchant’s tendency toward passive aggressive acts like rumor-spreading and the like, but when a family heirloom—an enchanted pendant discovered in an ancient monastery in Rubal—vanished from Breeder’s place one night, it was the last straw.

Sure, plenty of thieves occupied Mudvale, but when one of Breeder’s contacts informed him that his arch rival tried to sell the piece a few weeks later, it left no doubt about who the culprit was. The quest was straightforward.

Justice Served Cold

Retrieve Burntham Breeder’s family heirloom from Martik, Clan Rintyle’s basement.

Rewards:

745 XP

1 Gold

Unknown Reward

The sun was a fading memory when I crept along a building on the outskirts of the village. Breeder described it as a warehouse with a residence in the rear. It wore the scent of uncut timbers and bricks of dried clay.

I cringed when footsteps resounded nearby. After dashing to the corner to peek around, I spied a woman with a flask in her hand stumbling in my direction. In hopes the dark of night would shroud me, I pressed my back to the wall then froze.

The drunkard released a belch as she passed. She continued to the end of the building then turned to weave out of sight.

You have learned a new skill:

Stealth

You fade into the shadows, stalking your victims.

Your Stealth skill is rank 1.

I wasn’t an assassin or any kind of stealth class. Why would—was stealth agnostic?

Holy crap.

My mind flooded with images of hordes of players appearing out of nowhere then bum-rushing a town or city. Or opposing army. Or a million other things.

Chaos. It’s going to be chaos.

A light burned in the back corner window like he’d predicted. I crept to the opening, then dipped beneath the sill. After a few quick breaths to steady myself, I raised my eyes over the edge then peeked inside.

A lone sconce burned on the right-hand wall inside. The space was otherwise still.

The plan: Sneak in. Find the pendant. GTFO and return it to Breeder’s shop. Use the gold to buy the staff, then bust out of town with new hope.

I’d all but nailed down that casting was going to be my jam for a while. It all started with the right weapon. Now, I just needed to execute.

Since I didn’t have anything else but a wand—which seemed flashy if things went to shit—I equipped the dagger then waited beneath the windowsill for the global cooldown to expire.

Should anyone see me, things could get ugly. Maybe loud. If I needed a skill to get by, I hoped it would be Backstab.

When I slipped around the corner to the side door, I tried the handle. But when I twisted, it clanged against a padlock secured through a hole designed to keep it from opening.

Padlock

A simple lock designed to keep out people like you.

Difficulty: Simple

I reached into a pocket for the leather pouch Breeder provided.

Simple Thieves’ Toolset

This toolset can be used to pick locks up to a difficulty of Moderate.

Not exactly the trusting kind. I unsnapped then unrolled the tools and slipped out the lock picks.

Here goes nothing.

I slipped the first into a hole, then a window with a green frame popped up in the center of my interface. The tips of five pins formed a row with golden heads along their top edges. When I slid the tool into the hole, the tip of one pin turned white. I rolled the tool around, and each tip replicated the effect as the head of the tool passed it.

You have discovered a new skill:

Lock Picking

A skill of often questionable ethics, lock picking allows adventurers and NPCs alike to open doors barring advancement or unlock containers to loot the contents.

Instructions:

Manipulate the pins with great care to balance them. Then use the stabilizing tool and snap each pin into place, drawing the tips toward the center without tumbling adjacent pins and potentially breaking the pick. When the sheer line is cleared of obstructions, pull the lock.

Your lock picking skill is rank 1.

Sounded simple enough... not! I flexed a pin inside the hole until one of the heads turned white then steadied my hand while I slipped the other tool inside. One of the adjacent pins flashed red. I moved the stems toward the center, then the pins turned white again.

Attempt Failed.

Your Lock Picking skill has reached rank 2.

Checking my six before continuing, I slowly manipulated the tools until one head turned white. When I used the other to steady it, the color transitioned to green. I smiled, but when an adjacent head turned pink, I froze. My hands trembled, but I flexed the muscles in my arm to stabilize them. I eased the tool holding the pin back a bit, then the head turned light green. This time, I moved the stabilizing rod to hold the adjacent pin. Once it was stable, I easily flicked the green pin until it clicked.

All the other heads flashed white. I’d be sweating any second. I finagled a second pin, but another adjacent head turned red. So, I stabilized that pin, then slid the other into place.

Click.

Two down.

What seemed like an hour later, the final pin slipped into place, the padlock dropped free of the thick metal loop, then I withdrew the tools.

Your Lock Picking skill has reached rank 3.

The door groaned as I cracked it open. I froze, one ear turned toward the opening, but nothing stirred inside. I didn’t dare close the door. The white moon sent a beam of light through the window where I’d hidden moments before to cast the interior in a white glow.

Rough-hewn wooden barriers divided the interior into horse stalls. Although I saw no hay or dung because it’d been decommissioned, the lingering scents of a stable sat stale on the air. In lieu of horses, crates stacked two-high rested between the dividers. Shadowy things hung from hooks in the back. Tables and shelves had been brought in and stacked with more crates. Dark piles of junk filled every corner.

A faint light burned at the back. Despite my efforts to lower each boot with excruciating care, the slithering sounds of my feet on the wood rose to my ears like screams.

Your stealth skill has reached rank 2.

I peered into a small living quarters with a kind of kitchenette to one side and bookshelves lining a wall in the back. In the corner nearest to the door sat a simple bed with a candle burning on the nightstand.

That’s dangerous.

I eyed the stand for any drawers that might hide the heirloom, but spied none. I formulated a plan to slide past the bed and check the bookshelves. One shoe scraped against the unswept floor. The dark eye representing stealth mode in my interface flicked white on the bottom lid. I froze until it faded to black.

Nice touch.

I passed by on my toes then slid up to the first set of shelves. Other than a few tomes wrapped with dusty covers, I found nothing of interest. I let a slow breath I hadn’t realized I was holding slip through my nostrils then turned toward a door on the far wall. Unlike the exterior entrance, this one wasn’t locked. But I turned the handle with caution, hoping to heaven the knob wouldn’t squeak. It turned silently, then I pulled the door open.

My spine straightened. My hands jerked away and began to tremble.

A wide-eyed man stared back at me.

33

He raised a lantern then turned its knob to wash his features in the dim glow. I sneered as they materialized. Orange disheveled hair. A round, freckled face, and an oversized mustache that flared on the ends.

I whispered in a harsh tone. “Burntham?”

His chin swept up then he bellowed, “She’s here!”

Rustles filled the air behind me. A man appeared dressed in black from nape to ankles. Two others rose behind the wood stove. A woman shot upright in the bed, fully clothed.

“What the hell, Breeder?”

“I didn’t like your answers.”

I couldn’t help but notice the star medallion resting against his chest. He read my gaze, pinched it with his fingers, then raised it to cast a satisfied gaze. “Yes. This is it. You needn’t hold out hope it was anything but a ruse.” He cocked his head toward the others. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t have a staff, and she’s only level—”

He blinked his eyes. “What? How did…”

A low voice rose behind me. “What is it, Breeder?”

“Her class changed.”

“What?” The low voice inquired.

The next utterance came from the female who’d risen from the bed. “Impossible. Only place I’ve heard such lies were in stories I wouldn’t pass to my own children.”

Breeder shook his head violently. “No. I’m telling you. I analyzed her. She was a combustionist.”

A man with jet-black hair cascading past his shoulders grabbed the mattress then lifted it to reveal a set of shackles. The chains rattled. There was also a curved knife, some metal pincers resembling pliers, and a few improvised torture implements.

I turned, then backed into the corner beside the bookcase. “You asked for my help.”

The man in black frowned then spoke in a condescending voice. “And criminal you are, you signed up then broke in. Didn’t you, miss?”

“You’re a liar!”

“Don’t change the subject! You’re going to answer my questions, or I will cut the answers from your belly.”

“What questions?” The crowd closed, so I whipped out my dagger.

They didn’t seem to notice. “Who are the people we’ve seen around town? Where did you come from? Are there more of you?“

My focus tightened on the larger man with the black hair who’d appeared near the stove. I spat my answer. “I came alone.”

“Lies!” Breeder barked. “Which warlord do you work for?”

“I don't have anything to do with warlords.”

The woman slipped off the bed. “She's lying. Why else would a shade elf be in the desert?”

“Hey, do you think I like the desert? I was only doing all this so I could escape it!”

I blinked my eyes at the black-haired man. No combat class, but the interface revealed he was a level 19 woodworker. I doubted that meant he could whittle me to death, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The dagger slipped in my clammy grip so I double-clutched it as I scanned his info.

His disposition toward me was unfriendly with a score of -275. I hadn’t noticed scores when analyzing Susan the horse, but the AI alleviated my confusion with a new translucent window.

Disposition/Reputation

A being or community’s orientation toward you

Disposition is a measure of your relationship to others in Enora.

Disposition States:

Despised

-1000

Hated

-751 to 999

Hostile

-501 to -750

Unfriendly

-251 to -500

Neutral

0 to 250 or 0 to -250

Friendly

251 to 500

Endeared

501 to 750

Enamored

751 to 999

Beloved

1000+

I skimmed it then dismissed the window. “Look, I could try and explain things to you, but you’ll think I'm making it up.

“That's okay. That’s why we have the tools.” Burntham stepped toward the nasty devices. “We will do what we must to get the truth.”

Okay. Eff this guy.

I lunged, grabbed his lapels, yanked him forward, then planted a knee in his gut—and I didn’t even drop my blade. When he coughed up his wind and doubled over, I spun him around then drew my dagger across his body and between his ribs. When I yanked it free, he hit the floor as blood poured from the wound. Breeder squealed like a dying pig as he clutched the source of his pain with both hands.

It was like he’d never been sliced open before.

The others scurried in all directions, but none moved toward me. That was good. Fear was good. “Who’s next?” I growled. “I love the smell of blood in the evening.”

Breeder carried on, but I didn’t give a damn. I didn’t know what their plan had been, but the sight of their dying friend seemed to have changed it in a hurry when they pressed their backs to the outer perimeter of the room.

I pinched the chain then snatched the shiny gold amulet from his neck.

Cha Ching!

I slipped it into my belt pouch as the guy behind me leapt forward. Something glimmered in the moonlight passing through the window then flashed as he swept it toward my throat. I sidestepped then rammed the dagger into his neck.

Your Dodge skill has reached rank 4.

Your Dagger skill has reached rank 6.

A geyser of crimson erupted from his jugular and sprayed the ceiling. His hip met the bottom of my boot as I shoved him toward the bed. When he flopped down, the torture implements clanked to the floor. The woman eyed them. I displayed the tip of my bloody dagger. “I will open up so many gashes in you, we’ll all see the black soul beneath, bitch.”

She stepped away, then I hustled out of the room before anyone else got brave.

I raced away from the barn and back to town, not slowing until I reached the cluster of the main thoroughfare. I slipped between two vendor stalls then froze and focused. The eye popped up in my interface and faded from bright white to pitch black. Then it closed and faded.

I listened for pursuers, but the night was silent, so I crept toward the edge of town, where I’d left Susan. She was drinking greedily from a bucket of water.

To ensure I didn’t spook her, I dragged one foot to break stealth. Her head rose, then she nickered. I scratched her cheek, slipped my foot into the stirrup, clutched the pommel, then hoisted myself.

“That's right. We're getting the hell out of here. However…”

I pulled the medallion out of my pocket and inspected it as Susan’s hooves clopped for the mountains.

Breeder Family Heirloom

A defensive charm plated in pure gold.

Level 1

Type: Jewelry

Slot: Neck

Quality: Rare

Durability: 71 of 75

+ 1 Constitution

+1 Dodge

You have completed a quest!

Justice Served Cold

Even though Burntham double-crossed you, you recovered the heirloom.

Rewards:

745 XP

1 Gold

Breeder Family Heirloom

When I realized what the quest had meant by unknown reward, I laughed despite myself.

You have defeated Montreya, Clan Trindle

+135 XP

So one of my betrayers bled out, but Breeder wasn’t done yet. Too bad. But maybe tending to him would keep them indoors just long enough to…

I clicked my tongue and tugged the reins. Susan turned, then hustled up the thoroughfare. I dismounted like some kind of cowboy, impressing the hell out of myself, then rushed up the stairs, kicked in the door to Breeder’s place, and snatched the staff.

Screw ‘em.

I scanned the interior.

There’s so much gear here.

I was a kid in a VR store.

Don’t get sidetracked.

My instinct for loot just wouldn’t let me go without both hands full so I grabbed a nice belt with an empty sheath for a dagger.

A small mob formed in the street outside. They were a hundred yards off, wielding implements I couldn’t make out in the darkness.

A message appeared in my interface.

Your reputation in Mudvale has fallen to Hostile.

Reputation score:

-557

I mounted up. Susan whinnied. “Sorry girl, I know I’m cutting it close here.”

Someone in the street shouted.

“All right. Let’s go.” I squeezed my legs together, flapped the reins, then barked, “Yah!”

Susan broke into a gallop as shouts filled the air and the mob rushed up the dusty street. When we’d gotten some healthy separation, I turned to spy the lights of torches flickering against the dark background of the shady town.

You have discovered The Scrublands.

+175 XP

My XP bar inched closer to Level 9, and I started to believe I might actually pull this off.

Don’t get cocky.

34

We rode half the night before camping in the flat, open lands of little vegetation except for a few rolling tumbleweeds. Unable to sleep after dawn, I rallied, packed up the horse, and we set out again.

“West, my friend.”

Though I might have flirted with heat stroke after giving all of my water to the horse, I survived the scrublands.

Early in the day, we passed a foot-worn trail leading north into the mountains. My ears perked up at the sound of a small trickle of water, but Susan was already on to it. As luck had it, I was venturing close to my two-and-a-half hour riding time limit, anyway. She picked up speed and wound through brush to a slim stream that appeared to be the remnant of a once greater river. Susan drank her fill, and I sucked down a belly full before filling my waterskin.

Around midday, clay gave way to soft soil transitioning into endless fields of tall, thistly weeds with bright blue flowers.

You have discovered the Thistle Hills.

75 XP

These prickly foothills of the Blueforge Mountains boast brightly colored fauna that make wonderful diversions for sightseers.

Life returned with the foliage. Birdsong followed us into the hills, and bright blue-green vultures circled in a way both dazzlingly colorful and more than a little ominous. Appreciation for my new world swelled in me. As we rode closer to the mountains, sporadic yipping noises sounded in the thickets of flowery nettles and creeping oaks.

The hills boasted dark blue rock with seams of metal streaked across their sheer cliff faces. I was done with climbing in the present, but I appreciated the scene from ground level. I analyzed the metal.

Red Iron Ore

Mined for use in high-level blacksmithing recipes, red iron is a resilient metal with magic-absorbing properties.

Mining skill required: 40

It was easy to become mesmerized by the beauty as the hills transitioned to the mountains, the trail steepened, and thistle flower clusters thickened. Flights of purple moths lifted off and into the air like cherry blossoms.

Susan was not about to be lulled into complacency by flashy colors and floaty butterflies. She gave a throaty whinny and whacked some moths with her tail as we crested the hilltop.

“What is it, girl?”

She complained again then tossed her head. I drew my new staff from the stolen sword belt I’d stripped with my simple knife.

My first scan of the area came up empty. Then a plume of purple moths lifted off from one of the near hills. They fluttered into the air then settled again as a new group took flight. The plume traveled like a steam engine chugging along.

Strange.

I noticed two more trails moving parallel to the first.

Scanning the surrounding hills revealed more disturbances. It was beautiful in the abstract, but when I watched the weeds rustle and noted the sizes of the swarms, I decided whatever irritated them had to be at least the size of my horse to cause those levels of commotion.

“Okay, we're running again.” I shook the reins, urging Susan into a gallop.

The plumes converged and sped up to run parallel. Looking ahead, I estimated we were five miles from the rock face where the trail cut between two mountains.

When we reached the bottom of the next hill, high-pitched animal cackling sounds echoed around us. I whipped my gaze toward a boulder jutting up from the nettles on the hillside behind us just as a scruffy-looking horse burst out of the brush then clambered up the rock. It perched awkwardly on top.

“Look, hon.” I leaned into the saddle and patted Susan. “More like you.”

The jaw of the horse fell open. Like, all the way open. As in, it was hinged back at the neckline like a moray eel. A long slippery tongue dripping dark bile lolled out over backward facing needle teeth.

“Or maybe not like you.”

It let out another crazed, hyena cackle, and I about pissed myself. I grasped the reins, but Susan lit off before I tugged. In moments, she sprinted full tilt.

One of the creatures burst from the field in a flurry of purple moths, onto the road behind us.

“Come on, come on.”

More plumes converged out of the thistle. They were nearly on our heels as we sailed over the crest of the next hill.

And straight into an oncoming army.

My horse neighed and reared up on her hind legs. I clutched the pommel of the saddle, trying desperately to hold on.

Charging up the hill in front of us was a force of at least twenty squat, burly warriors in black platemail with full, massive beards carrying hammers with huge rectangular heads and battle axes.

Holy crap! Dwarves!

A war cry rose from their ranks, then they charged us.

When my mount’s hooves returned to the ground, I raised my staff and squeezed my thighs to secure myself in the saddle, ready to rain down fire and psionic blasts. But the dwarves charged around, ducking under and around us, stomping through the thorny fields and smashing into the pack of hyena-eel nightmare horses.

I blinked, dazed and panicked. Then I squinted though the cloud of frantic moths and thistledown. It was like watching a combine harvester mow down a herd of cattle.

Then my gamer instinct kicked in.

“What the hell am I waiting for?” I hopped off the horse then hustled back to the hilltop. The dwarves made short work of their enemies. Horse hyenas cackled as they charged to attack, only to fall, wheezing and bleeding on a prickly field of battle. I sighted one pesky straggler dragging its injured body away from a dwarven attacker, so I let fly with a psionic blast.

Conger

-22 HP

You have killed a Conger.

124 XP

Encouraged, I hung back and launched volleys of fire and psionic energy while simultaneously hoping the dwarves didn’t turn and slaughter me when they were finished with the Congers. But that was silly, right? They’re dwarves!

I dropped another two creatures and racked up 252 XP. But no matter how I prodded my XP bar, it only inched along. When the axes stopped flying and the moths settled, I was alone on a hilltop surrounded by twenty bloodied, barrel-chested dwarves.

They hoisted their axes in the air and cheered. Adrenaline pumped all around. One of them whipped out a ram’s horn and blew into it. The sound echoed off of the mountains, and two distant ones bellowed in response. I was living a fantasy and, in that moment, I knew Enora was home.

The third round of distant horns brought another round of hearty and manly cheers. There were women, too. They were just so heavily armored and covered in bits of gore that I hadn't realized it.

I joined in the screaming because it seemed socially appropriate, but when I scanned my surroundings wearing a wide grin, the whole crowd stared back.

A long moment of silence passed while they eyed me. Then someone nodded, and they raised their weapons and cheered again.

I turned to the nearest warrior woman. “Nice axe.”

“Aye! Your fire blazes!”

Wow, some real shouters here.

A chorus of “Aye!” rose around me.

My horse raised her hooves in the distance as she wheeled in slow, uncertain circles. A young dwarven squire—also with a full, bushy beard—struggled to get her under control without getting his head bashed in.

“Thank you.” I slipped out of the ring of warriors then hurried down the hill to Susan. “I’ll take that.“ I snatched the lead.

“Aye, lass.”

One of the warriors followed. “Ye are far from your homeland, sister elf. What brings ye to Blueforge Keep?”

The NPC’s of Enora were rightly suspicious. “Well, I certainly didn't just show up out of nowhere.”

Good. Very sneaky.

“Aye, so what’s yer business then, caster.”

“You mean literally? I’m an adventurer.”

“Aye. Such magical fury I’ve not witnessed in some time.”

“Well, it's a beginner’s spell, but I'm learning. Call it studying abroad. I'm from Rubal.”

That sounded almost believable.

“Aha! So that would be why you carry the sign of the trader Burntham.” He was pointing at the heirloom around my neck.

Crap.

“Oh, you know him?” I tucked the amulet inside my shirt.

The dwarf laughed then clapped me on the arm. “What kind of craftsman would I be if I didn’t know my merchants? His name will get you far in our parts. Come. Any friend of Burntham is a friend of mine.”

Do you stab your friends between the ribs, too?

“Where are we going?”

He set a hand on his considerable belly as it rumbled with laughter. “You must know little of dwarves. Today we will drink and dine in celebration of this victory! And we hope you’ll be our honored guest.”

Dwarves cheered rambunctiously behind us.

“Don't think I didn't see that Conger at my back. Had you not struck him down, I might have been in his belly tonight instead of he in mine.”

Although it wasn’t how I’d have described the situation, his words brought a hearty rumble from all around. The hunters field dressed the creatures, then hauled them down the road toward a mountain towering over the rest.

They marched in step, the front dwarf swinging his axe like the conductor of a marching band as he led the rest in song. I suppressed the urge to skip along merrily behind them.

The dwarf beside me thumped his chest with the side of one fist. “I’m Heurin Hammerstock, captain of the guard.”

“I’m Kyra.” I offered my hand. It was like shaking hands with a backhoe. “Nice to meet you Heurin.”

“And I, you. Now, where’d you come by a Khar’khun war horse?”

Everyone seemed really interested in my horse.

“I kicked some Khar’khun ass for it. I hope that doesn’t put ye off.” I’d have to work on the Scottish accent.

“Not at all. Got no use for the buggers.”

I recalled the giant bastards in the strange helmets and couldn’t help but agree.

35

The squire took Susan so I could stroll with the dwarves. I almost dropped my jaw when we reached the mountain and I took in the view. It was less a structure and more of a sculpture on its rocky face. I might have mistaken it for a painting except for the guards craning their necks at the tops of the walkways to gaze down on us.

Carved into the rock above and straddling the two highest towers was a massive statue of a dwarf wielding a hammer in one hand, poised to pound a piece of metal on a gigantic anvil.

“Wow.” The singular syllable seemed somehow appropriate.

Heurin laughed. “This is nothing, lass. Just wait until you see inside.”

A bottomless chasm lay in front of the mountain. Twinkling lights hinted at deeper parts of the fortress hundreds of feet beneath the earth. Smoke and steam rose from below. A drawbridge of massive wooden slats crossed the chasm.

You have discovered the Bluestone Mountains.

75 XP

These iron-rich mountains are home to the Bluestone Dwarves.

Another hearty cheer greeted the dwarves when they entered a sprawling cavern with pillars on either side and statues wearing horned helmets. Giant torches blazed in the giants’ grasps. Long rows of wooden tables aligned behind the pillars. Dwarves seated for the coming feast pounded the sides of their fists on the tables as they raised their voices in a song so discombobulated, I couldn’t make out the words, and the table spreads included huge mugs and piles of cheese. A sour stench drew my gaze to the tankards.

Despite my tentativeness, the looks I drew seemed friendly enough. Heurin led me to a table where I was given my own mug of the sour ale and a giant plate of funky smelling cheese.

“Ribian goat cheese.“ One of the dwarves held out a chunk.

“Yummy.” I gave it a skeptical look. “Why not? There’s no such thing as bad cheese.”

Once my tongue adapted, the sourness faded.

The dwarves told hunting stories until Captain Heurin joined us and the meat arrived.

He leaned across the table to shout over the boisterous crowd. “So, if ye don’t mind, we’d love to hear the story about how ye won your Khar’khun warhorse.”

I regaled him with the tale that led me to Mudvale, but went no further. I wasn’t much of a liar, and if I mentioned how I’d cut open a vendor associate of his, things could get ugly.

Luckily, he had other thoughts. “You say they changed form when you removed the helmets?”

I nodded instead of answering with a mouthful of food.

“Good thing you survived that bunch. They’re dangerous, even at low levels.”

“They were higher than me. I got lucky. So, have you seen magic like that before? Shapeshifting?”

The dwarf shook his head. “Nay. Can’t say I have. Heard tales, but never laid eyes on it. Of course, I don’t stray far from the keep. As you can see, we dwarves are safe in our mountain. And if ye need a break from adventuring, maybe you’d be interested in a different kind of experience.” His face twisted up in curiosity.

“What kind?”

For starters, the kind that doesn't involve fighting. If you can swing a weapon and don't mind getting your hands dirty, you’re qualified.”

I stopped chewing then considered the environment. Dwarves. A mountain stronghold. A giddiness washed over me, but I was careful not to show it lest I get a bum wage.

“Ah, so you want to put me to work in the mines?”

“Oh, only if it interests ye, lass. We can always use an extra pair of hands.”

Where there was mining there was also smithing. I didn't want to become one of those players that just mines and crafts all day.

Who was I kidding? Yes, I did. At least, for a while.

“And would I get more than experience? Is there a wage?”

He slammed the table with the flat of one hand then all heads turned and the hall fell silent. My shoulders flinched, and for a half-heartbeat, I thought I’d stepped in it.

Then he boomed with laughter and slammed the table a few more times. “She’s one of us!” The dwarves cheered, then he yelled over it. “It’s like you were born in the mountain, lass! Yes, we’ll give you a fair wage. How’s a gold per hour sound?”

I swallowed without completely chewing and, in a strange testament to the realism in Enora that kept rendering me forgetful I was in a game, the food caught in my throat. I worked the muscles until it dropped into my belly. “A gold per hour? Sure. That sounds great.”

“Good! Tell ye what, I’ll throw in accommodations and meals for as long as you’d like to stay and work. And if hunting interests you, we’ll fashion you a ranged weapon when ye tire of mining, if ranking up that kind of skill interests ye.”

“Sold!” I slammed the table with enthusiasm.

He turned to the rest of the table then shouted. “She wishes to delve in the mines!”

That drew another rousing cheer. The place was hopping, likely fueled by the ale.

“So, Kyra, what say I show you the way to get started?”

“Oh, I don't want to interrupt your feast. I could stand to relax a bit myself.”

“Feast? Relax? This was lunch. Our day is just getting started. Come! If you’ve had your fill, we should get you started.”

Expanding Horizons

Heurin has offered you the opportunity to learn a new profession:

Mining

Rewards:

A new occupational skill

500 XP

“Why not?” I accepted the quest. While I wasn't eager to jump right to it, I’d never been a fan of big parties, either. The crowd was exhausting. My ears rang.

The dwarven crew grabbed chunks of meat for the road, stuffed some cheese into their pockets, then we set off.

The staircase carved from the mountain’s stone walls wound eternally down. The setting morphed from formal palace to steaming foundry. Hammers clanked against metal. A carved rock tunnel fed from the stairs into a massive room. It was like a medieval steel mill with cranes hauling molten slag, stacks of iron ingots, and small forges. One giant furnace centered the activity.

“Stand back.” Heurin held an arm in front of me. We waited as one of the pots of molten metal was hoisted on a chain. A group of dwarves barked song in unison as they joined efforts at a metal crank that powered cog-driven machinery. Then the pot tipped, and orange magma poured into a mold in the center of the room.

When the pouring finished, the captain motioned for us to continue our trek. Most of the others broke off to man various anvils, but Heurin led me through the chamber.

“Here’s my workspace.” He gestured to an anvil beside a small forge. “I may be captain of the guard, but I still pride myself upon my work as a smith. Never could let it go, ye kin?”

My brow furrowed when I saw a helmet hanging near to the forge. A chill rose up my spine when I realized where I’d seen one before.

Heurin read my expression. His full dwarven lips twisted to one side. “Aye. We make all the armor and weapons traded in this land, but I assure you these won’t be reshaping anyone’s bodies.” He turned his head downward and gave it a good twisting.

“If you’ve got no use for the Khar’khun, why don't you stop selling to them?”

“The Khar’khun are not the only ones at war. The whole continent has descended into chaos. We don’t tangle ourselves in others’ conflicts.”

Smart. They play the middle. Equip all sides. Dwarves and their gold.

I didn’t think mentioning how arms dealers weren't exactly innocent in this kind of situation. It wasn’t my business, and picking up another profession tickled me.

He displayed patience while I scanned a couple other pieces—a sword of black metal with a simple hilt, a pair of fist claws, and a mace with holes where I figured nails would reside. I inquired, but they didn’t sell direct. In my old world, we called that irony.

We passed beneath broad archway beyond the boundary then descended another long spiral staircase passing multiple side tunnels as we went. When one ended, we crossed through chambers like bunkhouses until we reached more stairs. I wasn’t looking forward to the return trip, but maybe I’d get a Stamina bump or two.

The staircase spiraled on, opening briefly into a cavern as large as the desert cenote, with glowing crystals in the ceiling and a small town built inside. A crowd bustled in the streets around a busy marketplace at the center. That’s when I realized the dwarves actually resided way down here, not on the surface where we took our meal.

A wide opening shot all the way to the top of the mountain so daylight flooded the area.

“Wow. Remind me to come back here when I've earned a little gold.”

“Oh, ye shall. Find me tonight when you’ve finished your work, Kyra, and I’ll show ye to our inn for some piping hot food and a soft bed.”

I rubbed one palm in circles over my belly. “I don't know if I'll be able to eat for a week.”

He laughed, then clapped my back just a little too hard. I almost doubled over. “Hard work will restore your appetite. That’s the dwarven way.”

As we trudged deeper, the stairs grew cruder and narrower. Finally, we reached a four-way intersection, and a room to one side held racks of mining picks and small metal carts on rails.

“Take a pickaxe. I would show you the way, but I have work.” He leaned in. “Besides, one must keep a watchful eye on the drabs, or nothing gets done. You need only contin-ye straight down this northern passage and say my name to the mining crew at the end. But I warn you, do not stray from the path. One wrong turn and you could be lost forever in these caves.”

That sounded like an OSHA violation in my world, but he seemed nonchalant.

“So, I just take a pick and go?”

“Bring a torch.” He gestured to a bucket of torches beside a lit brazier “Welcome to the mines. Find me when you’ve filled a few carts.”

I dipped over the edge and peered into one of the deep vessels.

A few?

He marched back upstairs whistling something resembling a tune. I moseyed over to the wall of pickaxes. They were all about the same, but I selected the least beaten one I could find.

Common Pickaxe

Type: Two-handed Mace

Slot: Hands

Quality: Common

Durability: 24 of 30

Damage: 2-6

It seemed everything in Enora rated as weaponry. I snatched a torch, paused, then grabbed another. After lighting the first, I set off down the tunnel.

36

A few hundred yards down the tunnel, I passed the first intersection. For all I knew, these tunnels went on for miles. A part of me kind of wanted to duck down a side tunnel and explore. In LOB, I spent my first week running around investigating the areas until they rose too high in level for me to shit around.

I wanted to know what else was down there, but Heurin’s warning about being lost forever kept me on course.

I passed a second intersection when a faint voice echoed.

“Ya stinking dwarf scum suckers! Let me out!”

I glanced up the tunnel in the direction from which I’d come, then in the direction I was supposed to go. Then the voice touched my right ear. I turned.

“Ya filthy—” the voice trailed off so the words were indecipherable. Like its owner grew tired from his howling.

My idea of adventure was scaling a rock face. My idea of exploration usually involved sunshine or a raid party delving into the depths.

As a team where someone knew the way out.

But rarely did I venture into other peoples’ affairs. Like Heurin’s dwarves, I minded my own business. So when the voice trailed away and the weight of the pickaxe reminded me I had a job to do, I decided to react accordingly.

Then I reversed the decision, turned off the main path, and followed the voice. Because no matter how practical I liked to think I was, Enora was badass. I just had to know.

A stench filled my nostrils a minute later. I’d have preferred a jaunt down a sewer, but the shouting soon ramped up anew, drawing me forward. It was mostly curse words, and whoever owned that mouth had a way with them.

Respect.

“I’d sleep all day too if I had a face like that! Your mother must’ve thrown herself into the forge when she got a look at you, ya fucking half-man trunk!”

Eventually I came to a small room lit by a lamp on a table. A dwarf snored loudly next to it, as if the screaming voice was commonplace. Cells with iron bars lined the opposite side of the passage.

“What is this here?”

The voice came from one of the cells. I held my torch higher and leaned in.

“Who are you?”

A shadowy figure the lamp’s light didn’t reach leaned on the floor in a back corner of the cell. When my query touched his ears, his head jerked up, then the prisoner crawled forward on all fours like a dog wanting a treat.

When the dim light washed his features, I slipped back a step. Young with lean muscles and sunbaked skin, he glared up in what I guessed was disbelief. The ends of short black hair spiked into bangs that stuck to his sweaty forehead as if to point at a pair of sienna eyes. They curved down on their outer corners like every other Lauan human I’d seen. He wore baggy trousers and a torn blood-stained shirt.

A chill of foreboding snaked around and up my spine until my shoulders shivered.

Although quite capable of emitting a voice that carried throughout the mountain, he spoke in a low grumble. “Did they feed you first? Before they shoved that pickaxe into your hand?” I didn’t answer, but he nodded as if I had. “Oh, they’re a welcoming bunch at first. Just a bunch of frolicking dwarves. I’m guessing ol’ Heurin asked if you’d like to swing a pickaxe for a few coins.” He winked his eyes in succession, scanned left to right, then nodded. “Maybe said you could learn a new profession?”

My heart skipped a beat. “They did.” I didn’t recognize the low grumble in my own voice.

I inspected him.

Sylas of Clan Suntere

Level 44 Carpenter

I skipped the attributes.

His eyes cocked to the dwarf, and his tone stayed beneath the level of the snoring now. “Oh, it’ll go fine at first. They’ll fill you with ale to make the work go easier. No worries. But they’ll start checking out, one-by-one after a while, once you’re working your own little area and feel too tired to notice. And before you know it, you’re alone down here.

“When you feel that first flash of soreness in your arms, when the sweating takes hold, you’ll go looking for some water. It’ll wear you down, then, right when you start to give up hope of finding your way out of this Solara-forsaken shithole, they’ll come. You’ll feel rescued. Filled with gratitude. They’ll take you up a few levels to the market. By the time your legs tremble from the climb, they’ll set you up in an inn. Trust me, sister, you’ve never slept so well in your life as on that first night.

“But then you work your second day. It takes a little longer for them to come. Then the third. At that point, you’ll be thinking, ‘hey, I skilled up a bit. Maybe it’s time to hit the trail.’”

I turned my gaze to the dwarf sleeping with his head on the table. He hadn’t stirred. I raised the torch, took a few steps to peer into the other cells, then returned.

“What’d you do?”

“Do?” He pushed himself onto unsteady feet. “What do you mean… do?”

“I don’t see anyone else locked up here.”

“That’s because most give up on trying to run. They spend a few days in the cells, but when they stop feeding ’em, they’re ready to work. Call me persistent.”

“For all I know, they caught you trying to rob someone. Or stealing some ores for yourself.”

“Ores? Iron ores?” He covered his mouth when he laughed weakly, as if it’d wake the guard. “The price of iron is shit in this region. Not that I’d expect a shade elf to know it.”

The two voices that frequented my head competed. On one hand, he sounded sincere. On the other, so would I if I got caught stealing, maiming, or killing then got stuffed into a cell in that fire pit.

You are in a game world. Try to keep that in mind.

And that voice won.

“I was born, Sylas, but it wasn’t yesterday.” I wheeled on my heels. “It’s been fun, but I have mining to do.”

“Wait. Don’t go.” He wrapped soot-blackened hands around the bars.

Hmm. His hands are still black from mining.

“Get me out of here.” He stabbed the air with an index finger. “There’s a key on the guard.”

You are being offered a quest:

Breakout!

Help Sylas, Clan Suntere, escape the Blueforge Dwarves.

Reward: 1,000 XP

Warning: Freeing the prisoner will negatively affect your reputation with the Blueforge Dwarves.

“Yeah… I don’t think so.”

I’d already been screwed over by one shady quest. If I’d learned anything, it was that Enoran quests required a methodical disposition. Besides, I didn’t spy any keys on the dwarf. Picking a lock was one thing, picking the pockets of a musclebound dwarf?

Nope.

“He won’t wake up. I’ve been shouting at him all day. He’s pissed out of his mind.“ He cupped one hand around his mouth then raised his chin. “Ain’t that right, you half-trousered weasel!”

My shoulders jerked to cover each side of my neck. No response from the guard.

I shook my head in response to the quest then turned away.

“I’m going to ask Heurin about you.”

“Oh, you do that. He thrust the finger again, this time at me. “Then come tell me how he responds.” He pressed the finger to his lip. “Oh, never mind. Because you’ll be”—he raised his chin again, but this time pointed that crooked finger to his left—“right there in the Solara-damned cell next to me!”

“I’m leaving.” I marched back the way I’d come. The prisoner called after me.

“You’ll be back! Sooner than you think!”

The berating continued until I reached the intersection then turned right to go about my work. I couldn’t make out all the cursing but it was… elaborate.

But the prisoner’s ranting dampened my enthusiasm. My feet dragged. Like it or not, his story irked me. Was it possible these dwarves weren’t as happy-go-lucky as they appeared?

Then my spirits rose a bit when singing echoed up the tunnel from ahead. A steady marching tune accompanied by the clank of pickaxes and tumbling ores. I squinted my eyes in the dimness. A mellow light bloomed more with each step.

A wide-open space greeted me in the center of a dozen tunnels, leading in different directions. Carts with miners came and went. The carts dumped into a giant bucket attached to a massive chain that led up through a shaft, presumably ending in the forge room above.

A dwarven woman stood at the center of it all holding a massive slate, making tallies with a piece of chalk as each load was brought in.

“Aha!” She pointed when she saw me. “A long-arm!” Her eyes flared with excitement. “Come with me.” She whipped a stubby arm in a come hither gesture.

“Hi. I, umm, was sent here by Guard Captain Heurin.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, this is your cart. Oh, you like ale?”

Prisoner Sylas’s words echoed in the space between my ears.

“I guess.”

She hoisted a keg on one shoulder and grabbed a tankard from a rack on the wall, filling it and shoving it into my hands.

“There ye go, and welcome to the mines. A cartload every hour, and I’ll keep the ale flowing.”

“A cartload an hour?”

“Aye. You ever used a pickaxe before?”

“No.”

“Then why’re ya complainin’ already?”

Another dwarf rolled in, dumped his cart, filled his tankard from the cask on her shoulder, then slogged off again.

“Right.” I carried the single syllable a little longer than I’d planned, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s the spirit.” The dwarf pushed the cart toward me then threw a shovel into it. “Now, off you go.”

“Which way?”

“No matter. That tunnel’s empty if you like workin’ alone.”

The prisoner’s words echoed in my brain space.

But they’ll start checking out, one-by-one after a while, once you’re working your own little area and feel too tired to notice.

“Well?”

I divined no effort on her part to hide her irritation.

“Work alone? Um, sure. I could do—”

“Good!” She grabbed my forearm and led me. “I thought you might. Now get along, you.” While wheeling my cart with one hand, she dragged me around a corner, snatched the torch, then shoved it into a bracket. When she noticed the second torch stuffed into the back of my belt, she relieved me of it. “You won’t need it. You’ll soon learn extra weight does ye no good down here.”

I eyed a vein of silvery metal then raised my pickaxe. “Well, here goes nothing.” I swung the pick, putting all my strength into it.

Clang!

The shock reverberated up my arms, into my neck, rattled my brain, then shot down my spine.

You hurt yourself while trying to act tough.

-1 HP

You have learned a new occupational skill!

Mining

Your Mining skill is Rank 1.

You have completed a quest!

Expanding Horizons

Rewards:

A new occupational skill

500 XP

I dropped the pickaxe then shook the pins and needles from my hands. When the sensation faded, I hoisted it and tried again. Focusing on the spot I wanted to strike, I set one foot in front of the other and gave it about half a whack. An hour later, I was chipping away decent sized chinks.

Your mining skill has reached rank 8.

At some point my torch flickered. I tried casting Inner Illumination.

This spell requires a modicum of ambient light.

Well, shit.

The torch flickered again, then the flame dropped.

All I needed was for a rogue iron chip to shoot off the wall and impale an eye. Since my cart was near full, I shoved it back down the long tunnel. Sweaty and plastered with rock dust, I turned the corner then realized how my blindness of the day before attuned me for the trip. But my expectation of torches and a few dwarves died in my mind. Then the low blue light of my torch winked out, and I was blind again.

I closed my eyes and listened. No songs coming from tunnels. No clanks of pickaxes. Even the sour stench of ale had abated. I couldn’t even hear people working the forge above.

A switch flipped. My breathing came in short gasps as my heart raced in my ears.

Maybe she led me further than I thought.

In short steps, I hustled up the tunnel with my hand thrust out ahead. They struck an outcropping of rock and I ended up shoving a finger in my mouth to suck away the pain. Which didn’t work.

The beating in my ears grew louder.

Thump thump thump thump thump!

“You corn munching outhouse rats… basement inbred… you shit pebble of Hokhram’s—”

I’d long passed the spot where the dwarves labored if his voice was resonating in my left ear. If he still prattled on, his Stamina score must have been epic.

His next utterance burst in a scream of pain, and my legs tensed.

I’ll just take a peek.

But when I’d walked for a minute or two, his voice faded. Another sound replaced it. A low beating drone. Repetitive. Multi-pitched. A trio—no, four—voices following the same rhythm. My feet stopped of their own volition. I turned to look back as if I could see, then up the tunnel again. Or maybe directly at a wall, and how the hell would I have known?

I inched ahead, eyes beating in their sockets as I reached out. My hands hit a wall and, when I turned I detected a hint of light. The rhythm reverberated. Louder now. Voices. Singing? No.

Chanting.

I tiptoed forward, and the light grew brighter so I could differentiate the walls from the path between. A few steps later, when the sound echoed in multiple directions, I peeked around a natural stone pillar to find a chamber shaped like an amphitheater. At the opposite end were gigantic double doors with iron fittings.

I tiptoed inside and ducked into a shadowy alcove.

Your Stealth skill has reached rank 3.

Three dwarves faced a raised dais. Their eyes glowed in a strange green light. The faint outlines of pickaxes lay at their feet. To one side, a human with long black robes covered with ornaments of bone waved hands with long yellow fingernails overhead. His hat reminded me of the pope, except it was black.

The dwarven woman who’d dragged me to my mining spot stood off to the opposite side, her hand clapped around the mouth of the prisoner I’d seen in the cell.

Damn. His voice hadn’t faded because I’d passed him, but because he’d been screaming as they dragged him down here.

You are being offered a quest:

Breakout!

Help Sylas, Clan Suntere, escape the Blueforge Dwarves.

Reward: 1,000 XP

Thick rope bound his hands in front. The woman's eyes glowed green.

When combining what I saw with the second offering of the quest I’d received earlier, I couldn’t help but wonder if the AI nudged me in a particular direction. But I knew nothing. There was no way to guess without experience to back it up.

A string of shirtless, suntanned humans wearing black metal helmets marched through with sacks slung over their shoulders.

My god, it’s like Medieval Christmas Show with the Chippendale’s.

The warriors halted at the front of the amphitheater. Their leader faced the dark priest.

The dark priest spoke in a grumbly tone like he smoked two packs a day. “I see that you are victorious. Were you also successful?”

The lead warrior lifted the helmet off of his head. It was so tight, it made a thunking noise when he tugged it off.

A big bushy beard tumbled out when the helmet was removed. His body twisted in a blur. The strapping tree trunk arms shriveled. His long legs collapsed like a pair of telescopes, then his big barrel chest shrank, sagging down into a big belly that might never have seen the sun.

In lieu of investigating, I’d ridden off like my ass was on fire, but now I knew the bodies I’d left in the desert had been dwarves, not Khar’Khun warriors.

My inner voice reminded me to give myself a break. After all, a giant had been chasing me.

“Aye, the three fastest were allowed to flee. They’ll undoubtedly spread word of the attack. Soon the desert tribes will turn against the Khar’khun. And the plains tribes will attack them, in turn.”

“I sense you are deceiving me.” The priest set his dirty fingernails against the neck of the dwarf. “If I can't control you, general, I will turn you on a spit with the other traitors, and you'll wind up on the next feast table.”

My stomach lurched in confusion. The priest froze, glared his green eyes in my direction. I ducked.

When the priest’s voice came again, relief washed over me. “Lie and you will…”

“There was one small mistake,” the dwarf admitted.

Your stealth skill has reached rank 4.

The priest growled. “Explain.”

“A shade elf woman killed two of ours. She saw beneath the helmets. She escaped.”

“And do you understand the consequences of your failure?”

“I do. If word travels…”

I peeked. The dwarf knelt now, his head bowed, arms thrown out as if nailed to a crucifix.

“I beg your mercy.” Even at a distance, I saw how he quivered beneath the priest’s fingernails.

“You do not have my mercy. But you are fortunate. Your guard captain Heurin encountered your shade elf. She rode your horse right up to the mountain.”

“Oh! That is—”

The priest backhanded him one good. “Don’t celebrate, you ingrate!”

The whispered chants ceased. The dwarf turned his head back to center, then he raised his chin. “Apologies, priest. Allow me to return to your good graces. I will boil her for the feast, maybe bake her into a pie.”

“I will feed you no flesh that can still be of use to me. She went to Mudvale. Encountered people there. We must question her, find out who she has spoken to.”

I cast a glance over one shoulder into the dark tunnel behind.

This shit is not looking good for me.

“As you wish, master.”

“You were lucky today. Pray you do not fail me again.”

The priest’s eyes flashed greener, and for a moment, the dwarf’s face lost all emotion. He stood straight, saluted, then donned the helmet. His fists clenched, the cords in his neck tightened, then he morphed, swelled, and howled in pain until the process completed.

The priest raised his scepter, then faced the wall of the amphitheater. His voice came in a strange tongue.

Hmm, if I understand lawful and neutral languages, what’s that make him?

I winked my eyes in succession.

Your analyze skill is not high enough to function at this distance.

A four syllable curse involving mothers came to mind.

The dark priest raised his arms. As he chanted, the green light flowed from his eyes in rays, then joined with those emitting from the dwarves. They softly joined him in his intonations. The light swirled then spread like a bank of fog against the wall.

The whirls quickened, forming a vortex that expanded until it was twice the priest’s height. The center shimmered, blackened, then daylight flooded through. I craned my neck when I spied the image of a port city beyond the magical recess.

“The ship to Bonchuria awaits.”

The dwarves raised their arms to block the daylight from their eyes.

Ocean birds sang. Ships rocked with their lines tied to piers near small buildings at the ends of docks.

A couple of dwarves stood on the other side of the portal. The first warrior lurched forward, lugged his bundle through, marched silently onto the dock, then up the gangway of a waiting ship.

The line of warriors followed. They moved without a sound, one at a time, through the portal and eventually onto the ship with their goods. The scene was creepy as all get-out. And yet, I longed to haul ass out of there, leap through that portal, and take my chances on the other side. But when I scanned the crowd, I knew I’d never make it.

I was stuck.

“Now,” the priest turned to Sylas, the prisoner, “what shall we do about you?”

37

The lady dwarf dragged the prisoner toward the priest. He slipped from her grasp when she yanked a hand away from his mouth. As soon as his teeth cleared her flesh, Sylas the Carpenter flung a new flurry of insults her way. She snatched a fistful of his hair then dragged him across the surface with impressive strength.

Note to self. No melee with dwarf chicks.

“I say we eat him,” said the dwarf. “Or feed his bones to the congers.”

What was it with these dwarves? Cannibalism made no sense. If this was the result of letting the NPCs go it on their own from an evolutionary standpoint, I had to wonder what code they’d started with.

Since I’d loved reading Tolkien as a child, the genuineness of their appearance was awe-inspiring. But if this was what they could become in Enora…

You have been offered a unique Legacy Quest.

Satiate Your Curiosity

Your intuition could serve you in Enora Online! Discover the secrets of Bluestone Mountain using the tools available to you.

Rewards:

450 XP

The tools available to me. Hmm.

I focused on the words in my interface, then separated them for their meaning.

Unique. Legacy. Quest. I cocked an eyebrow. Players received unique quests. Okay. I’d gotten the gist of that. But a unique legacy quest? Oh, that sounded really interesting. Would I construct my own legacy? Would the legend of my deeds follow me around? Provide more unique titles I could equip?

Or was the AI simply driving me toward my own little storyline within its world?

Either way, I was onboard. This game was badassed.

The priest wheeled, and his growl echoing off the walls dragged me from my contemplation. “Silence!” He raised his scepter. A purple light flashed at the bottom then traveled up the length of its shaft.

Like a casting bar.

Then a beam of energy shot into the prisoner’s grill. His body seized. A progress bar appeared above Sylas’s head. It slowly filled, and the purple aura spread to envelop his body.

More warriors marched into the room carrying their bulging sacks. They ignored the spectacle as they stepped through the portal.

I wonder what all that crap is. And where they’re taking it.

“This craftsman is too full of fury. He will never work willingly, and I’d not spare the resources to charm him throughout the day. We will find another wood worker.”

The dwarven woman had ideas. “Shall we boil him down to his bones, then?”

The priest cocked his head in the affirmative. “From where do you hail, carpenter?”

Sylas’s response came muted. Drone-like. “From a fishing village near the coast.” He pointed to the scene through the portal. “Just south of there.”

The priest bobbed his head toward the dwarf woman. “If his people share his disposition, they’ll be of little use. And we don’t want witnesses.” He raised one hand, and those long yellow fingernails glowed in the light of the portal behind.

The green aura faded, then Sylas glanced around with his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Let this serve as a lesson to others who refuse to work.” The priest waved his free hand at the dwarven woman. “Beat him until he dies. Then see to his people.”

The prisoner struggled. “My people? What of my people?”

“Yes, master.” Ignoring his protests, the dwarven bitch balled up her fist, yanked Sylas’s head back by a handful of his hair, then punched him with a roundhouse so brutal, he tumbled backward then fell onto the ground. Her hand came away with a tuft of hair.

I flinched when the back of his head hit the stone surface.

Tnosika Proudbridge attacks Sylas.

Critical hit!

Sylas

-49 HP

Ouch. Forty-nine in one go. Her Strength attribute must be—

My legs tensed as if they’d drive me forward of their own volition, and only with sheer will did I stay my desire to intervene.

The dwarf leaned down, grabbed his bloodstained shirt, hoisted him, then brought her fist down hard. The shirt tore, and the wiry human hit the floor once more.

Heat fired like a kiln in my belly.

Kyra, he’s an NPC. Let it go.

I shook my head, begging the voice away. The two sides of my brain had it out. If the damned AI hadn’t done such a good job developing this world, if its inhabitants didn’t seem every bit as human as Carol, the decision would’ve been simple. Turn my back. Walk away. Find a way out.

If I could have died to save him before, I can die trying to save him now. But if I don’t, if I leave this place knowing I left him to a fate no one deserves…

I had the nagging sense the memory would haunt me. And besides, Enora was home now. Of that, I was certain. Would I go through life treating its people like cartoons? What kind of existence was that?

Besides, he warned me.

Something about the dimness in the poor bastard’s eyes when he’d pleaded to be released ate at my guts. I scanned the occupants but gave up counting as fast as I’d started.

An audience of dwarves. A line of helmeted heads. The damned priest. The dwarven woman pegged Sylas another good one. Blood spurted from his mouth and poured from his nose.

Keep waiting and she’ll kill him for sure.

As if the AI read my thoughts—I was pretty sure by now it could—the quest flashed in the bottom window before me.

You are being offered a quest:

Breakout!

Help Sylas, Clan Suntere, escape the Blueforge Dwarves.

Reward: 1,000 XP

Now the quests were stacking, and level 10 was less than one-and-a-half levels away. I’d take life as a purple-skinned shade elf over a desk drone any day, and getting there would solidify it. I’d come to enjoy my longer reach, the way my longer legs carried me faster.

All in.

I drew my wand. When the last of the warriors entered the chamber, I knelt then slipped my staff off my back. If I planned on seeing level 10 and getting out of there alive, I’d have to wait for the warriors to step through the portal. But the way the dwarven woman took such pleasure beating Sylas’s face, I couldn’t be certain he’d last.

The last guy was a real foot dragger, but lucky for me, the dwarven woman took that moment to make a display of her brutality. She strode around the prisoner, glaring down at him with contempt. “We do not defy our masters!”

The dwarves roared. But when the ruckus died, one of the bulky audience raised one knee and slid onto the dais. Was he going to contribute to Sylas’s beating?

No! He charged the priest, instead!

If one could call the crooked waddle of a dwarf a charge.

He wielded no weapons, save for a pair of massive fists. “Release my kin, ya filthy Bonchu bastard!”

My own brow furrowed with confusion. Sylas wasn’t a dwarf. What did he mean, his kin?

But when I slipped forward and scanned the last dwarf in his perpetual stillness, the results brought my jaw low.

Unknown Dwarf

Charmed

This NPC has been inflicted by an alchemical potion.

My eyes flared. Charmed? I scanned the rest of the dwarven crowd. So still. Motionless.

The priest twisted, thrust out both hands, then a massive jet of purplish-black energy slammed into the dwarf to raise him from his feet then shove him backward through the air. He landed with a heavy thud but struggled back upright a moment later. The priest waved his scepter and fired that green light again, then the dwarf’s eyes glowed anew.

An alchemy potion. A staff that charms. The Dwarf called the priest a Bonchu. Someone enslaved a mountain full of dwarves?

You have completed a Unique Legacy Quest!

Satiate Your Curiosity

Your intuition will serve you in Enora Online! You discovered the secret about the Bluestone Mountain Dwarves using your keen intellect and your Analyze skill.

Reward:

450 XP

I guessed the AI saw the potential for an unhappy customer due to its portrayal of dwarven kind, then offered me a quest to clear shit up. Or maybe I held delusions of grandeur, a swollen sense of self-importance.

You are being offered a Unique Legacy Quest!

The Bonchu

Objectives:

1. Learn more about the Bonchu who have invaded Bluestone Mountain and the movement of goods to the port.

2. This objective is hidden. Complete objective one to unlock this objective.

Reward:

5,000 XP

Five-thousand XP would push me well past level 9 and into level 10! My mind reeled about how I might learn more. Then my gaze gravitated toward Sylas. Maybe he knew about the Bonchu.

A wicked smile crossed the priest’s features. “Back to your place, dwarf.”

The last warrior dragged ass toward the portal. But my perception of the scene blurred as my mind reeled with the implications of 5,000 XP. Where had I heard the word Bonchu? The sense it’d come up more than once nagged my brain. My interface answered the question when I sent a simple question into the ether.

Discussion Log?

Text filled my screen.

Lucera: Relax, child. Use your muscles to move, not your mind.

My mouth gaped. I sent another thought to my HUD.

Bonchu.

Text split into multiple panes. I scanned the first.

Panza The Seer: Because people don’t stop to enjoy their prosperity for long. After the tribes of Lau banded together to defeat the Bonchu—do you know of them?

You: No. I’m new to this region.

Panza The Seer: The Bonchu inhabit a continent across the Great Sea to the east. They invaded to steal the many resources with which the goddess blesses us… Because we aren’t heathens like those cretin bastards.

My eyes gravitated toward the sacks bouncing on the backs of the warriors stepping through the portal, crossing the pier, then boarding the ship. I scanned the second pane and skipped to the part with the word I’d searched for highlighted.

Burntham Breeder: Strange people straggling in such as we have not seen since the war with the Bonchu.

I recalled that one. We’d been talking about players showing up when Burntham compared their arrivals to the Bonchu.

Takeaway: The Bonchu were still looting Lau! I eyed a third pane to find a reference of only moments before. Although the word wasn’t an exact match, it contained the search term and revealed something interesting.

Unknown priest: The ship to Bonchuria awaits.

So, the Bonchu hailed from Bonchuria. They stole from Lau despite having supposedly been driven from the continent when the warlords combined their efforts to fight them off.

Unique Legacy Quest Update:

The Bonchu

Objectives:

1. Learn more about the Bonchu who have invaded Bluestone Mountain and the movement of goods to the port: Completed!

New Objective Unlocked:

2. Unravel the mystery of how the Bonchu continue to loot Lau of its resources.

Reward:

5,000 XP

An inkling of the answer tickled the edge of my brain, but before it could penetrate, the priest turned toward Sylas, thrust out both hands, then fired a new beam of light.

The captive carpenter’s back arched so his chest jerked violently. A blue meter appeared over the priest’s head then began to fill. A red meter popped over Sylas’s head then started to empty.

He’s draining his life to refill his mana?

Unknown priest casts Drain Life.

My legs tensed again. Time to formulate my rescue plan. If the priest charmed the whole room, maybe they’d be slow to respond, but something about the energy he’d presented scared the pee out of me. The longer I waited, the lower my odds of success.

Oh, fuck it.

You cast Psionic Blast.

Interrupt!

Bonchu Priest’s casting interrupted

-2 HP

A green spark followed the white flash when my spell impacted the priest, and the progress bar above the prisoner’s head shattered. His back thumped to the ground. The priest whipped his head around to scan the room.

I slipped into a small passage on my right. Light at the other end indicated that it emptied on the other side of the chamber, but I didn’t want to risk making noise just to get a new perspective.

I closed my eyes, focused. A surge of tingling energy passed through my core, then I raised the hand clutching the wand in a death grip. It washed in a purplish glow then became transparent.

You have activated your Stealth skill.

The warrior who’d been stepping through the portal turned to take in the commotion only to have the portal snap shut. His front half shrunk into dwarf then slithered into a bloody heap as his halved helmet rattled to the ground beside his remains. I could only assume the rear splattered onto a pier on the coast.

Light sucked out of the room, leaving my eyes to adjust to the new darkness.

I waved my hands in a pattern I’d memorized.

You cast Inner Illumination.

Funny how a day’s blindness motivated me to recall things.

With the torches’ ambient light to feed the spell, the whole place bloomed into simulated daylight.

The dwarves stood at attention. Sylas the carpenter seized, then coughed.

When the priest snapped his fingers, the dwarves perked up. “It’s the shade elf! Catch her! Disobey me and your families will die.”

The dwarven woman who’d been beating Sylas grinned in my general direction. I noted how her eyes didn’t glow like the rest.

Treacherous beast.

She yanked a knife from her belt. Sylas’s head rose as the priest stepped toward him, and he grappled for his weapon from the rope belt tied around his waist. The green glow coalesced around the end of the scepter in the form of a huge arcane mace.

I slipped my staff onto my back then drew my own blade.

38

The dwarves flooded my way. I slipped into the little passage on my right then exited on the other side of the scene. Pushing toward the dais, I skirted into a corner then crouched while my global cool-down progressed.

When the dwarves entered the main room again, the priest called out. “Where is she?”

The female dwarf’s voice echoed through the amphitheater. “She… vanished.”

“Well, find her!”

This time, the dwarves split up. Two circled back down the little passage behind the wall, and the woman moved in my direction. The rest disappeared down the tunnels. Time crept, but my global cool-down expired as I waited. Sylas’s health naturally regenerated while everyone’s attention turned to hunting me.

I dropped behind a cart and set my sights on the traitor dwarf when she rounded the rear entry and stomped in my direction. When she slipped by, I whacked her on the back of the head with the pommel of my dagger. A good strike, right between the cords on the back of her neck. The dwarf tumbled, then I eyed her spine. Her hands trembled as her knife slid along the floor. I said a silent prayer of thanks to the AI’s goddess—Solara? Was that right?—since the knife hadn’t clattered to draw the priest’s attention.

For once, luck blessed me.

When I focused on the dwarf woman’s back, a flash of golden light illuminated the vertebrae of her spine. My head tilted to one side as I eyed it like a curious dog.

Critical Zone

Critical Zones are weak spots in an enemy’s armor or body. When struck with a proper weapon, the attacker enjoys an increased chance of inflicting a critical blow or mortal wound.

I tightened my grip on the dagger, clenched my back teeth, drew a deep breath, then stabbed the bitch.

You use Backstab.

You impacted a Critical Zone!

Critical Hit!

Mortal Wound!

Unknown Dwarf

-37 HP

Additional Effect:

Gouge

-21 HP

-19 HP

“Holy shit!” I whispered then clapped my hand over my mouth. I raised my eyes above the line of the cart, but the priest stomped back and forth on the dais as if he hadn’t heard.

I dropped my shoulders and let out a silent breath.

Unknown Dwarf

-18 HP

-17 HP

-16 HP

The damage when I struck a critical zone was ridiculous, and I wondered if her incapacitated state left her even more susceptible. After all, the complete lack of melee defense coupled with my memories of the two higher level Bonchu I’d killed in the desert seemed to indicate anything was possible. The old LOB rules where someone more than two levels higher would likely kick my ass in combat were out the window. And I freaking loved it.

Just keep in mind they still have more power and are likely to kick your ass. Don’t be cocky.

You have killed a level 15 dwarf.

+25% XP bonus for having killed a higher level enemy.

671 XP

I tore across the room, jerked one of the pickaxes from the floor, then hurled it toward the priest. In a marvelous stroke of luck, the handle connected. The pick side would’ve been nice, but this wasn’t Light of Babylon, and physics weren’t on my side. But the priest flailed then dropped.

Good enough.

Then I hustled to Sylas. Gripping his biceps, I shook him. “Snap out of it, dude. We gotta roll.”

He tumbled when he tried to rise, and his weight proved too much for me with a single hand. I sheathed my sword, hauled him up with both hands, then turned to find the priest facing us. His scepter lay on the floor a few feet behind him. He followed my gaze, then smiled.

“Are you fast enough, interloper?”

One corner of my lip twitched. “Go for it and find out, asshole.”

The priest glared then whipped around and went for it.

Lucky gambit. He could’ve just cast a spell.

I practically dragged Sylas from the dais. With a thought, my inventory popped open. I eyed an item, then it appeared in my hand. I flicked the cork with my thumb then pressed it to his lips. “Drink, big boy.”

The red liquid poured down his throat, and this time, I was close enough to see the result in my interface.

Sylas drinks lesser healing potion.

+ 27 HP

+4 HP (HoT)

I threw a glance over one shoulder just in time to see a green glow. My arms whipped around Sylas. I tackled him as the priest’s beam shot over our heads to slam harmlessly into the wall. When I got to my feet, I found Sylas still slow to rise. So, I ripped my wand free. Flames whipped from the branches, formed a ball of fire, then spewed across space.

The priest rolled away with an agility I hadn’t expected.

“Dude, we don’t want none of this guy. Let’s GTFO.”

Sylas

+4 HP (HoT)

+4 HP (HoT)

We hustled up a tunnel. The light of my seeing spell dimmed as we progressed, but it didn’t quite blink out. If I’d learned anything in my first twenty-four hours in Enora, it was that the little things counted. Like eyesight.

“Sorry I didn't believe you.”

“Not really the time.” He turned. “This way.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’d be better if that portal had stayed open.”

I recalled the priest’s order that Sylas’s town be attacked, but wondered if it’d gotten through with the dwarf bitch dead.

“No point focusing on the past. How are we going to get out?”

“Now you want to leave.”

I turned in surprise at the sudden projection of humor to find him wearing a half-grin. I returned it. “Hey, better late than never.”

He shook his head in derision. “Thanks for the potion. We’ve got to make for the surface. Most miners are done for the day, but we’ll run into trouble when we reach the—”

“We can’t fight our way out through a hundred dwarves.” We hustled around another corner, but now it was Sylas gripping my hand to pull me along. Probably a good sign. The way he tugged reminded me of the same sensation when I’d been robbed of my sight. When Andrew pulled me through the underground in the same way. “Sylas?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t slow his roll.

“Is there somewhere we could climb out of here?”

I expected him to wheel around and throw me a look. Let go of my arm and leave me, even. But he didn’t. Instead, after a few heartbeats of silence, he nodded. “The forge room. They funnel the smoke out to the ravine.”

“We’ll get cooked alive.”

“The furnace has its own chimney. That's the worst of the heat. Smaller forges don’t. Their smoke goes through holes in the ceiling. The catwalk is right under them. I would know. They made me sweep ‘em. Walls have all kind of jutting rocks.”

“You can climb that?”

“I used to work the rigging on my father’s ship. We might fall in the pit, but it’s better than being beaten to death, stuffed and roasted.”

I couldn’t argue with his logic. “It's worth a shot. We just have to get there. We still have a lot of dwarves to get past.”

“Leave that part to me.”

Then the sound of footsteps rang out from a far tunnel.

“Follow me. Or stay for dinner.”

I booked it after him, watching as my Stamina bar dropped to half. We reached the staircase, but when I twisted to go up he dragged me past it, hauling me toward the mines.

My words came between huffs. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting out of here.”

The clop, clop, clop of the footsteps rang louder off the tunnel walls. “They’re gaining on us.”

We raced through the dark, straight to the end where the mine tunnels intersected. The light of my spell dimmed further. If we went any deeper, I’d lose it altogether.

We skidded to a halt near an intersection. A rack of pickaxes rested on one wall. I considered grabbing one, but Sylas stepped into a metal bucket the miners dumped their ores into.

“What’re you—” My gaze raised, and I spied the double chains I’d seen earlier. “Wait. Are you out of your f—”

Footsteps closed on us. I turned to find a line of dwarves with the glowing eyes churning toward us on stubby legs.

Sylas yanked me into the bucket, then reached out and pulled on a hanging chain which triggered the counterweight up in the forge room. We began rising toward the ceiling.

“Holy crap, you’re a genius.”

“Going up.”

Our elevator swung and banged against the sides of the mine shaft. Then it grew dark and quiet except for the sounds of shouting far below and the clanking of chain up above.

“Are we actually going to make it out of here?”

“Oh, I doubt it.”

“Seriously?”

He shrugged. “We’re going to try.”

Above, a bright orange glow indicated the forge room was coming into view.

“Crap.” The entire opening was ringed with bearded, eager faces. “The whole effing family is up there.”

“Use your fire. Burst it in the air at the center just before we go up.”

“I can’t do that. I have to target something.”

“You can miss… again. If your attack against the priest was any indication, you’re not the best shot when you do have a target.”

“Yeah, well you’re kind of an ass.” But maybe he was right. Just because I’d had to target an enemy in other games didn’t mean it applied in Enora. Nothing else did.

I drew the wand and pointed it at the opening. Fingers of fire burst from the branches then launched a fireball.

Hit!

The air in the center of the shaft ignited then collapsed in on itself with a sucking force. Every dwarf who had been huddling around the mine shaft had been hurled inward, colliding in the air before they rained down.

“Dammit!”

Sylas’s head whipped around. “What?”

“I didn’t want to kill all the damned dwarves! They’re under a spell, or charming potion.”

“How could they all be force-fed a potion?”

“Dude, I just go off what my interface tells me.”

His forehead wrinkled and his eyes flared with understanding. “Their ale! The priest must force some of them to pour it in their ale!”

“The ale? I drank some in the mines. I wasn’t charmed.”

“Right. They probably pour it at their meals. If they didn’t charm you, I’m sure they had their reasons. Maybe they don’t waste it on slaves. The ingredients might be expensive and maintaining a mountain full of dwarves would break the coffers.”

A dwarf landed on the opposite side of the cart and knocked Sylas against me. Although we were packed in like tuna, I managed to pry the staff off my back. I shoved Sylas to the side, drew back with both hands, then bashed the dwarf.

You attack unknown dwarf.

Unknown Dwarf

- 9 HP

The dwarf lunged, but Sylas grabbed his legs, hoisted him up, then threw him over the side.

“Dude. I don’t want to kill the dwarves!”

“Lady, it’s them or us at this point.”

I sighed.

As we emerged up into the forge room, I realized around eight burly dwarves clung to the sides of the bucket.

“That must be one damned heavy counterweight.”

A dwarf dangled from the chain above. He let go to drop toward Sylas’s head.

“Look out!”

I yanked him out of the way as the dwarf landed. The cart slammed into the wall so hard, sparks flew. Sylas kicked him, sending him tumbling into the forge room. I cringed.

The bucket swayed as it rose higher, then my new partner crouched and set his feet.

“What the hell are you—”

He leaped out then grasped the elevated walkway that ran the perimeter of the room. His legs swung, and he kicked them furiously. The platform rocked from chains attached to the ceiling, but he hauled himself up.

“Move your backside, missy. We got places to be.”

Taking a moment to think about it would end me, so I jumped. Sylas caught me in both arms, then we launched without looking back.

We raced toward a wall framing the smaller forges. Dwarves flooded into the chamber from the feast hall. Someone threw an axe that clanked off the wall inches from my head. When I saw a burly body hoisting itself up a ladder toward the walkway, I let loose with a fireball. It missed, but the dwarf jerked, lost his footing, then tumbled.

Sylas was already starting up one of the chimneys. Dude really didn't give a damn. Or he was holding a grudge against me for ignoring him the first time.

Two dwarves scurried over to the bellows of the forge just below that chimney. They started pumping.

“What are they doing?”

He glanced down but never stopped climbing. “Trying to smoke us out.”

I thought about casting a spell, but there were thirty more dwarves on the ground, not to mention the three climbing the ladder, and one still dangling from the bucket of rocks. It would’ve been a vain effort, and I still didn’t want to kill the dwarves.

Why not kill the dwarves? When’s the last time you saw one with glowing eyes? It’s tons of XP, they’re going to kill you if you don’t, and maybe it’s best to buck up. After all, how’d the Bonchu get in to poison their food in the first place? It couldn’t have just been one dwarf who betrayed them, right? So, maybe you’re killing a bunch of traitors.

It was funny how I could manipulate myself, and in a solid coincidence, that was when I spied the pot of molten metal hanging near the main furnace. A final justification—that I hadn’t seen that glow in the eyes of the woman miner who put me to work. In the eyes of the hunters. In Heurin’s.

Maybe that meant the charm didn’t always cause the glow, maybe it didn’t. But if I wanted to leave Lau anyway, I’d never return to that god-forsaken mountain. Game time.

I scanned the chains. They were as thick around as my arm.

“The hell are you doing, lady? Keep climbing.”

I tried to imagine the dwarf at the bottom working levers as I leveled my wand, drew it back toward my eyes like I was staring down the barrel of a gun, then flicked a fireball forth. The dwarf at the controls leaped then rolled out of the way at the last second.

Every lever on the panel jerked backwards with the impact. A screech like a tornado rousing a train wreck assaulted my ears, then the whole steaming tanker of molten iron lurched sideways. It shattered one of the forges, sending a glowing, hissing wave of fiery death across the floor.

The screams of the dwarves were drowned out by the hiss of steam as their blood boiled and bubbled underneath the rapidly cooling iron. I might’ve taken a moment to feel empathy for them, but none of their eyes had glowed green, and I’d decided that they’d come of their own free will.

So fuck ‘em.

My view of the carnage was accompanied by a flood of messages.

You killed unknown dwarf.

+87 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+84 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+79 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+68 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+82 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+91 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+77 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+85 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+81 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+76 XP

You killed unknown dwarf.

+81 XP

Congratulations!

You have reached level 9!

+1 Dexterity

+1 Constitution

You have two elective attribute points to spend.

I noted how being an assassin had blown another automatically assigned attribute point by sliding it into dexterity. But forever was a long time, and I knew I’d make it up. I slapped the other onto Wisdom for mana recovery speed.

“Hey!” Sylas stuck his head out of a hole two feet above my head. “It's bleedin’ hot in here. Hurry up.”

He waited for me!

“Coming!” I raced down the catwalk, jumped, grazed his hand, jumped again with both hands up, and he pulled me into the narrow little tunnel in a display of strength I hadn’t expected.

We hustled on hands and knees for a few beats before it became too steep to crawl. Feet and hands wedged against the wall, we shimmied up the airshaft. The smoke from the burning dwarves and cooling iron choked every breath I took.

You are afflicted by smoke inhalation.

-9 HP

-11 HP

“Of course I am!”

My quads strained. I missed my real world climbing body. A hint of natural light cut into the smoke as it wafted above us.

Sylas coughed as little red negative numbers flashed and floated skyward from the crown of his head. The sweltering steam and smoke intensified as the forge room below melted.

“How far does it go?”

“I don't know.” He choked. His health meter dropped to half and, a moment later, mine equaled it.

“Sylas, we're not going to make it.”

He coughed again. “Well, death waits below.”

“At least we can fight down there.”

“In what, a melting control room? Drag your ass. Talk less, and you’ll breathe… less… smoke” He burst into a coughing fit. Smoke shot from his nostrils. His health bar gave a violent downward tick.

I’d known I might bite it saving this guy, and I might never know why I stuck my neck out, but something told me I’d feel pretty good about it on the other side. So I followed, eyes watering, lungs evicting plumes of smoke. It flooded us from below and thickened until the daylight was near snuffed out. My heart thumped hard in my chest, my throat, and my ears, but I refused to relinquish that one breath.

Alas, I had to let it go, and right when I prepared to suck in lungs full of black, sooty smoke, warm hands grasped my wrist and I was yanked upward into daylight.

I kneeled on high, soft grass beneath glorious daylight.

You have completed a quest:

Breakout!

You helped Sylas, Clan Suntere, escape the Blueforge Dwarves.

1,000 XP

Sylas and I fell onto our backs then filled our lungs with magnificent, humid air.

39

Fields of thistle and clouds of purple butterflies waited far below. All that beauty, and it still wouldn’t be enough to keep players around. Yes, people would flock to Enora Online but casuals might haul ass.

This shit was hardcore.

But I didn’t have that option, and when I stared down at my soot-covered, torn robe, Sylas’s bloody face and shirt, then back in the direction of the hole from which we’d climbed, I didn’t care. Hardcore or not, this place was also badassed. It beat any day at the office with the D-bags.

Sylas’s disposition toward you has reached friendly.

I whipped my head around to find him staring at me.

He gave a curt nod then diverted his eyes. “You’ve got guts. Thanks for helping me escape.”

“You’re welcome. It was my…” More text filled my interface before I could complete the sentiment.

Player/NPC Binding

While non-players can level their attributes through labor and interaction, they may also purchase attribute upgrades from trainers in Enora.

Players do not share this attribute burden, but privileges come at a cost. While you have the ability to spend unlimited attribute points on behalf of your companions, doing so will result in the companion being permanently bound to you.

In order to bind a companion to you, the companion must hold a disposition of friendly or better toward you.

After level 10, fallen non-players who are bound to you will resurrect at your spawn point if they are not revived after battle.

If you fall in battle, bound companions will continue to fight until your enemies are vanquished or they fall.

Bound creatures may not wander beyond ten miles from their binder unless given leave to do so. This setting is found in the Character Pane in a checkbox called “Free Roaming.”

If you have a foundation or pay for a room at an inn, you can leave the non-player behind at your choosing, but you will still be bound.

While bonds between non-players are broken by death, this player-to-non-player bond is permanent.

Be aware: There is no limit to the number of NPCs who can be bound to you, as long as they are of friendly disposition or higher upon binding. You may bind a non-player of friendly or higher disposition without permission.

This bond can only be broken when the non-player is killed by your own hand.

Binding cannot be undone.

It is recommended you discuss binding with NPCs before doing so, but it isn’t required. To bind an NPC, open the Companions Tab and select the Bind NPC tick box.

“Something going on in your mind window?”

I jerked. “Huh?” It was so freaking weird that NPCs had interfaces. Sure, if they’re born with it, they might accept it as a part of life, but it was still… strange. But if players hadn’t entered Enora until now—except for that Fowler guy—binding would undoubtedly strike them as a little off. He might not even believe me.

Unless…

“Hey, Sylas. Have you ever heard of people binding to each other?”

He nodded. “Strange question. I was bound to my parents until I came of age. Everyone is. Some unbind when both their parents die, but most do when they come of age. Why? Do your people somehow avoid binding?”

I wasn’t sure how to express the thoughts swirling around my mind. “What about romantic couples? Do they bind?”

“Binding is a gift from the divine between children and parents. How would mortals share the power of the goddess?”

I wondered how Gemini handled this. But I could wonder until the sun went down. After some back forth inside my head, I broke a long silence.

“Never mind.”

This wasn’t the time. I’d just met the guy. How did I even know if I wanted him to be bound to me? And forever?

“C’mon. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

We walked down an easy slope atop the high grass then came to an abrupt stop when the world opened up beneath us. Sylas stopped beside me then peered down.

“That’s unpromising.”

I moaned. “Gee, ya think?” I whipped my head around. “Is there another way down?”

“Check that way. I’ll look over there.” He pointed soot-blackened, crooked fingers in both directions to indicate his intent.

When we reunited, the situation had proven the same on both sides. We’d come out on a high platform five hundred feet above solid ground. “Who the hell terraformed this?” I muttered.

“Terra-what?”

“Gah. Nothing. How the heck are we going to get down?”

When he set his hands on his hips and went a long time without answering, I sighed. “Dude.” I crawled on my belly, crept to the edge, then peered over. “Hmm. This might actually be doable.”

“What might be… doable?” He leaned to look over the edge, then took a giant jump back like gravity might reach up and grab him.

“Solid handholds. We’ll have to do a little side to side, but if those reach the bottom, we could scale it.”

“Scale. What do you mean by—”

“I mean we can climb it, Sylas.” I jumped to my feet then set my hands on my hips. “Looks kind of fun. We could rest here a bit then… why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’ll try the dwarves.”

“No, you won’t try the damned dwarves. I’m telling you, we can climb it.”

He shook his head in vigorous twists. “There’s one word for what you propose.”

“Oh? And what’s that? Crazy?” I twirled a finger around my temple. “Suicidal?”

He raised one flat hand above the other then clapped them together. “Splat.”

I blew air through my nostrils. “Sylas, I can coach you. I’ve done this kind of thing before. Will you trust me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t even know you. Not really. You left me in a cell.”

“I gave you a healing potion and dragged your sorry ass out of there at great risk to my own hide.”

He set one hand on his own hip, craned his head forward, then raised one finger. “I dragged your sorry ass out of there. You might have kept me from getting baked alive, but a shaft where I can plant my backside and my feet is one thing. That”—he thrust the finger down and over the edge—“is a Solara-blessed cliff.” Again, he shook his head with frantic resolve. “No. Uh-uh. No way.”

I gripped his arm. “Sylas, you’re not going back down the shaft.” I thrust my own finger out to indicate the rising plume of black smoke. “That’s going to burn for days. Now, would you rather choke to death slowly on that, or would you rather splat!”

“Hmm.” He tilted to look over the edge. “Splat would be faster. But I’m volunteering for neither. Maybe there’s something edible up here.”

“So what? You’re going to live here? Atop a big rock jutting out of the ground?”

He considered it until the last of my patience evaporated. “Maybe.”

“What happened to all that talk about working on your father’s boat? Climbing and the like?”

He chuckled.

I fumed.

Then a magical thought sailed to me on the breeze. The answer had been in my interface just minutes before. “What if I told you I could make it so you wouldn’t die if you fell?”

“I’d call you the worst kind of liar the goddess ever dropped from the sky.” He twisted his lips to one side. “Okay, bad wording.”

I huffed another sigh. “Let’s just say, I could make it so you never died.” I still wasn’t sure I wanted this guy bound to me, but I wasn’t going to leave him up there or have him fall to his death after all the effort.

“You can say it until the last breath leaves your chest. It doesn’t make it true.” His god-forbidden head was still shaking.

“Okay, I’ll prove it then.”

The flesh on his forehead flattened as he furrowed his eyebrows. The scent of lilac came on a breeze that raised the bottom hem of my robe.

“And how would you do that?”

“Agree to it, and I’ll show you.”

“Do I have to jump?”

I punched his shoulder. “No dipshit. You just have to stand there.”

“You have weird words. It’s like, I know the words, foul as they are. But you combine them in strange ways.”

He was preaching to me about foul words? I snapped my fingers twice. “Sylas! Focus!”

“You can prove it without me actually having to die?”

“Yes, but it would be permanent. You could still go wherever you want whenever you desire, but you’d be bound to me.”

“Bound? Like to my parents?”

I was unclear on the answer to that, but I didn’t want to give him too much time to think about it. “Yes! Like to your parents, except you would be immortal.”

“Immortal.” He rolled the word on his tongue a few times. “Immortal.” Then he nodded. “You’re what my father called full of girth but empty inside.” He stomped away.

“Sylas. If you could live forever…”

He turned on his heels. “Say what you like, but I’m not going over that cliff!”

I focused on my interface then dropped six points into Sylas’s Strength attribute.

Would you like to bind Sylas, Clan Suntere, to you?

“Screw it.” I selected yes.

A beam of white light flashed down from the sky then encircled him. It was gone as quickly as it had come. He teetered on his feet, stabilized, then his eyes flitted left to right, over and over.

You have bound your first companion in Enora Online!

Sylas is now bound to you!

Sylas, Clan Suntere

Human

Level 9 (No class)

Attributes:

Strength: 20

Dexterity: 3*

Intelligence: 3

Wisdom: 1

Constitution: 19

Charisma: 1*

Combat Skills:

Ranged: 14*

Melee: 15

Defensive Skills:

Dodge: 8

Parry: 2

Weapon Skills:

Bow: 14*

Blunt: 11

Occupational Skills:

Not to be confused with combat professions, occupational skills allow people to earn a wage, run a business, build foundations, or create weapons, armor, and potions to supplement adventuring.

Carpentry: 31

Forestry: 41

Skinning: 15

Affinities:

Light Magic: 10%

Languages:

Lauan

Dwarvish

Common

Disposition: Friendly

Sylas has twelve unspent attribute points.

Friendly disposition means you may distribute one attribute point for each level Sylas gains.

You may distribute any existing attribute points.

To increase the number of attribute points you can spend on this companion per level, increase disposition.

“What did you do?”

“I bound you to me.” I ambled to the edge of the cliff then dropped to my knees. His stomping to crush high grass underfoot sounded behind me.

“How could you possibly…” He paused, then I looked over my shoulder to find his features shaded by the low sun. “My mind window says we’re bound.”

“Yes.”

“But only family can bind in this way, or mentors in the faith. The only other way I’ve heard is…” his words trailed off. His eyebrows shot up. “Kyra.”

I cocked one of my own. “Yes, Sylas.”

“Are you… a Mythic?”

Mythic. Shénhuà. I grinned. “Why, yes, Sylas. Yes, I am.”

“But that’s just a story.”

“Who told you the story?”

“I can’t believe I’m even talking about this.” He dropped down on his backside facing my knees.

I dropped down to face him. “Well?”

“My father.”

“What did he say?”

“Your kind built armies. You caused the turmoil that caused the ancient warlords to ban magic in Lau.”

“I didn’t cause anything. I wasn’t here. Do people where you’re from often tell the stories of the Shénhuà? Are they part of your culture?”

“No. My father told me when I asked why a girl with a mana pool in my village was taken away. That was the first time I learned that mana pools—like yours, and that priest’s—were dangerous.”

“That’s all he told you?”

Sylas threw up his hands then dropped them into his lap. “He was a blasted fisherman, not an archivist!”

I understood the frustration on a base level when I looked at it from his point of view.

“Sylas, people like me are going to come by the millions.” I still hadn’t differentiated how Fowler and I would be different from the other players, as my interface indicated, but it wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Millions?” His face contorted so it wrinkled in ways rendering him unfamiliar.

Okay, I could have gathered my words with a little more care.

“I’m from another world.”

“Another….world?”

Warning:

As of patch 1.15, it is allowed for you to speak about the outside world with your bound companions, but it is against the Player Agreement index 1.75b to discuss earth, its cultures, or other topics with unbound NPCs in Enora.

At Infinity Designs, we create games so you can escape the—

I swept the message away. “It’s not easy to explain. Just think of it as a place like Enora. But it’s not Enora. It’s…” I gazed up, the pointed skyward. “You know the stars at night?”

He considered me for a long moment then nodded exactly twice.

“Our world is by one of those stars.” I pointed at the massive sun in what my compass indicated was the northwestern sky. “Just like your star.”

“That’s a star?”

“Yeah, you’re just closer to it so it’s yellow instead of white.”

His expression went slack. “You mean, there are others up there? Like you?”

“Yes. You’re getting it.”

“How did you get here?”

To that, I had no answer he’d understand. So, I went with a semi-truth. “When I died in that world, the goddess sent me here.”

“You know the goddess?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t work that way. It’s not like she talks to me or anything.”

“But she brought you here. And if I die, you say I’ll come back to life?”

“That’s right. I’m guessing until I have a bind point, you’ll pop up right next to me.”

“Bind point?”

“Can we deal with that later? I’d really like to get off this plateau before the sun goes down.”

He pushed up then strolled away. I stayed put. For twenty minutes or so, he shook his head, muttered indecipherably, then shook his head some more. When he returned, I stood to face him.

“So, you’re from up there. And that message I just got about binding from the goddess in my mind window means you’ve connected us in a way that… somehow… I can’t die.”

I nodded.

“Then kill me.”

My head jerked back. “What?”

“Prove it. Kill me.”

“My interface says the only way you can die is if I kill you. No one else can.”

“That’s…”

I cocked my head to one side. “Convenient?”

He snapped his fingers. “Yes!”

“Sylas, if you want to test it”—I threw my hand out to one side—“Here’s your chance. Jump.”

To my great relief, he didn’t.

* * *

Coaxing him off the ledge sucked, but eventually my new companion came. We descended at a snail’s pace, and I sought out the grips that would best fit our hands while giving our feet purchase on the way down. He quivered wildly the whole way. Ironically, that was the same feeling that enticed me to climb.

Soon I could make out the grass of the land below for its individual blades that waved under the influence of the breeze.

But we weren’t out of the woods yet. I couldn’t afford to be sloppy. I took the next few yards carefully, then sized up the ledge below. I’d just have to drop to it and hope it was solid. Otherwise, Sylas’s first adventure rock climbing was going to be a bitch, and he’d be unbound as quickly as he’d been bound.

I explained the plan then dropped before I could think about it. The ledge was solid rock and wide enough to lay across. It curved around the outside of the plateau’s base. A small path had been worn here by years of foot traffic, and when I scanned the horizon from there, I understood why.

The scene was incredible.

“Okay, Sylas. Get your foot on that handhold, set your chest against the rock, then let yourself slide down. The going is smooth, and I’ll keep you from going over.”

To my surprise, he just did it. “Good job. I bet you thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“Yeah. Because your level is so low and you know so little about what you are doing.”

“Hey. I just climbed a freaking mountain.”

“Do you have any water?”

I pulled the waterskin from my satchel. “I filled it from a pitcher at the feast table. It might be cannibal soup for all I know.”

“I don’t care.” He pulled the stopper, downed half of it, then tossed it to me. I drank deeply and caution be damned.

After a minute, he gazed to the horizon. “I should be going.”

“Wait. Where?”

“Home.”

“What about me?”

He shrugged. “If we’re bound and I truly cannot die, I figure the least I can do is take you with me. Come. Meet my sister. But you won’t find any shade elves on the Sunder Coast.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need to meet any.”

If the seer was right and Lau was descending into chaos, then I had to think about getting off the continent altogether. Questing was cool, full-on war at low levels… not so much. The coast was likely my way out.

I was about to say more, but he’d already left.

I opened my interface and selected the “Free Roam” checkbox in my Companions tab so I wouldn’t piss him off by forgetting it later when we decided to part ways. Then I set off after him.

Thankfully the path was clear. By the time the stars came out, we were away from the cliffs and hiking down a sloping hillside. I was about to ask Sylas how he felt about camping for the night when I spotted a set of glowing eyes in the distance, then another.

“Psst. Sylas. Do you see that?” More eyes appeared on either side of the trail.

“Don’t look at them. Maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

I focused ahead, but there were so many crowded around us. It gave me the creeps. I thought about casting Inner Illumination but didn’t dare try anything that might draw them in. Probably stupid on its face, but I figured I should live in the world for maybe a few days before I pushed my luck.

“What are they?”

“I haven’t a notion. But keep talking. Maybe they’ll come out and introduce themselves.”

Great.

We marched in eerie silence other than the crunch of rocks underfoot. As the ground leveled off and the dark shapes of trees loomed to either side of the trail the eyes gradually disappeared. We walked until the trees grew thick and the soft sound of running water rose on the air.

Sylas stopped on the side of the path.

“Are we camping?”

“I would call this sleeping rough. But if you’d like a fire, I’ll help.“

“Unless you think it would draw things in.”

He didn’t answer. But he walked off then dragged branches back. I activated Inner Illumination and chipped in.

When we’d built a little pile of branches he stripped some birch bark and I shaved a bit of tinder with my dagger. He picked it up and set it inside the branches.

“Well? Are you going to rub two sticks together?”

“If it were light out and I felt like wasting half the day, maybe. But your wand shoots fire.”

“Oh. Right.” I drew the wand and aimed it.

“Idiot,” he murmured.

Either he was tired or I’d pissed him off. I was too beat to care. I shot the fire at the log. A small blast brought up a shower of soil then wood chips sprayed across the clearing. Sylas grabbed a piece of wood that was still on fire and stuck it into the tinder, blowing it to life.

Warm crackling light reflected off the trees above, and the cold, creepy feeling I’d had when the eyes followed us dissipated. I breathed easier.

Sylas seemed to lighten up too. He propped himself on one elbow while feeding sticks into the fire, pulling one out to watch it smoke before blowing on the embers so the light glowed warmly over his face.

“What do you do again?” I asked, wistfully. ”You were working on boats?”

“My mother was a shipwright but my father ran off to become a fisherman. I learned the trade from my mother. When I was old enough, my father forced me to crew with him.”

“Oh. That sucks.”

He shrugged. “Fishing was poor. Boat building was poorer. When I was old enough, I chose something simpler.”

“Mining?”

“Fishing poles.”

“I thought fishing was poor?”

“You should work on the Lau tongue. I hate fishing. I make poles. I tie lures. I do little work. It suits me.”

“I see. So you’re not interested in going out and racking up some XP, huh?”

“You would not compel me to come with you?”

“No, of course not. I’m not a monster. You do you. I don’t care.”

“Good.”

I wondered if the short answer signaled a brief journey together. If so, I understood. The guy made fishing poles. He’d just escaped a dwarven prison. He had a sister. He hadn’t mentioned whether his mother was still around, so I didn’t ask. But the silence eventually got to me, especially after all the spooky eyes in the trees and underbrush.

“What’s sailing like? Do a lot of people travel that way, or is it just fishermen like you?”

“You did not sail to reach this continent?”

“I’m haven’t spent much time aboard boats.”

“That’s your loss. Some of the best sailing in Lau is here, and we are not far from the busiest ports. Trade ships, pirate fleets, treasure-seekers from all over Enora. If you are an adventurer, this is where you want to sail.”

Treasure sounded pretty cool. And I also had a compass in my pocket that could sail me out of there if I leveled up. I reviewed it in my interface.

Compass of the Schooner

Item Type: Compass

Quality: Rare

Durability: 75 of 75

Your level is too low to use this item.

Requirement: Level 12

This compass requires a body of water to be activated.

I peered up at Sylas to find him staring into the fire. “Why were you with the dwarves in the first place?”

“I needed tin. For making fishhooks. They overcharge in town, and I was low. I had hoped to trade for it. A few days of mining for a healthy lump of tin.”

“You got conned.”

“If conned means done rough by a conger stag, then yes. Too long I was down in those mines. And nothing to show for it.”

A thought occurred, and I brought up my interface to scan for the message I received about Sylas when I bound him.

Disposition: Friendly

Sylas has eighteen unspent attribute points.

Friendly disposition means you may distribute one attribute point for each level Sylas gains.

You may distribute any existing attribute points

To increase the number of attribute points you can spend on this companion per level, increase disposition.

Then I reviewed the combat skills I’d seen. “How is it you have melee, defense, and weapon skills?”

“I help defend against the wave lurkers when they come on shore. Been doing it since I could raise a spear. Why?”

Wave lurkers?

I skipped the details. “You mentioned how you had nothing to show for your trip. What if I could change that?”

“How? You have tin in your pack?”

I smiled. “Alas, no. How would you feel if I raised your attributes? I spent six points on your Strength to bind you, and I could also spend the rest for you.”

His eyes flared then clicked left to right. “Snikes! You’re a trainer, too?”

“Of a kind. At least that’s what my interface said.”

“Interface?”

“Mind window.”

“That’s a strange name for it.”

“What? Mind window?” I grinned.

“Funny. How does it work?”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Truly? I can choose, and you just bestow this great gift of advancement upon me? At no cost?”

“Well, I’m not making you come with me, Sylas, so what do I care what you pick? I can spend your existing points, and if you choose to go with me, I can spend two points per level.” In the interest of brevity—and so he didn’t think I was trying to con him into liking me—I didn’t mention that the points he earned for future levels got banked and that I could spend more when his disposition toward me grew more positive.

“Hmm. May I think it over? Tell you what I’d like in the morning?”

“Of course.”

“Go to sleep then. I’ll keep first watch.” He picked up a massive branch and tossed it on the fire.

“Keeping watch. Good idea.”

I collapsed near the fire with my bag for a pillow.

Sylas stomped into the woods, bouncing with vigor. Branches cracked in the distance.

40

Carol insisted on bringing Susan into the office and keeping her tied up at the HR desk surrounded by massive cavernous walls of golden stone.

Ray and the douchebags were four feet tall with long beards. I wound up doing all my usual paperwork while pumping a pedal with one foot to feed air to a small forge.

Then I bumped a lever and the pot of molten iron tipped.

* * *

I jerked awake, yawned, then froze with my mouth gaping.

That was not a cutscene.

I closed my eyes and recalled the images I’d just experienced, and my mind focused on my horse. My interface responded by opening my Companions Tab, then flipping up the Pets sub tab. An image of my warhorse popped up in a golden frame, although she was grayed out.

She’s there!

I scanned past her attributes then landed on what I sought.

You must learn the skill Summon Mount to summon this mount.

I searched for other details, but found none. Great. Right when I’d held hope Sylas and I could ride to the coast.

Dammit.

Orange embers peeked out from gray ash in the dim clearing. A low rumble resounded from the other side of the smoky remnants. I shot up, patting the ground for my wand. The tension in my shoulders eased when I found Sylas leaning against a log with his head tipped back, mouth open. His chest heaved, and the rumble continued.

I laughed. I should have kicked him. But he probably needed the rest more than I did. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I needed sleep. But I dreamed, so there was that.

Both moons threatened the horizon.

Might as well start my watch.

I fed a few branches into the fire. When it was burning again, I found my staff and sat with my back to one of the trees.

I lingered until the sun came up, reorganizing my interface, reading the tabs, and wondering if the tool would provide new onslaughts of information when I reached level 10. I was itching to learn more about class abilities, skills, mechanics—all of it.

When light crept back into the sky, Sylas finally roused. His day started with a don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-my-coffee look. He stood then set off into the woods.

How about ‘Thanks for keeping watch, Kyra. Sorry I’m a big slacker.’

I thought he was just going to pee, but ten minutes later I started to worry. After twenty I searched. Nothing. Just trees. Underbrush.

If he’s in trouble, I’m too late.

I plopped back down and got the fire going again. Another ten minutes passed, then Sylas returned with two fish speared on a stick. I recalled the sounds of running water from the night before. I’d need to fill my waterskin, but the relief came in such a rush, another thought occurred.

I focused on Sylas then thought party.

You have invited Sylas to your party.

Sylas accepts your invite.

I brought up my map then verified a locator icon appeared. At least now I could track the slippery twit.

That bit of business done, I forced a smile. “How did you catch fish without a pole?”

“I live in a fishing village.”

“I thought you hated fishing.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.” He pointed at my dagger. “Knife?” I handed him my dagger then watched as he cleaned his fish.

“I was good at my shit job, too.”

He hung the fish over the fire and gave me another don’t talk to me look. I wondered if they even had coffee in Enora.

For his sake, I hoped so.

Sylas perked up when we finished breakfast. We kicked dirt on our fire, filled the waterskin from the stream, then headed west.

Our path joined with another to form a hilly road that wound through patchy coastal forest. When we emerged from the trees on the next rise, Sylas pointed to the wide band of blue that stretched across the horizon.

You have discovered the Sunder Coast.

75 XP

The ocean wasn't more than a couple miles off.

I felt a pang of loss for the Pacific Coast highway and its California beaches. Ocracoke Island off North Carolina’s pristine shores.

For the first time in a while, he smiled. With a cock of his chin, he said, “Home.”

Then his features contorted.

“What is it?”

“Smoke.”

I squinted and spied thick, black plumes. I’d completely forgotten the threat from the priest beneath the mountain, and Sylas probably hadn’t heard it at all.

Dammit, Kyra! Do better!

“I have to go.” Without pausing for a response, he broke into a sprint down the hill.

“Well, I'm coming too! Wait up!”

I gave chase, but dude was fast. My stamina trickled away, and soon I doubled over panting. I really needed to work on conditioning. In the old world, I’d have run for an hour and barely drawn a shallow breath.

Sylas didn’t even slow, and considering his Constitution outweighed mine by 9 points—or 90 Stamina—I understood why. Not to mention any bonuses he’d earned through exercise.

I launched again when my Stamina reached half-full and covered the last mile in good time. When we neared the water, low structures rose into view. Smoke streamed skyward farther down, near the shore. A lingering, thick plume turned the air around the town acrid and gray. The buildings grew more dilapidated. A few warehouses lay at the center of the village beside a shipyard with a half-finished wooden vessel resting up on blocks.

To call it a town was generous. The streets were packed dirt. Distressed chickens scurried to clear a path. The only things missing were the people. Abandoned mules hitched to carts lazed in the center of the road. Cracked shutters flapped over windows and dangled from hinges.

Sylas hustled toward the docks. The streets turned to rough cobblestone. We passed a mix of ramshackle boathouses with small fishing hovels, nets hung to dry, and small boats overturned in side yards. Then one or two gated yards with sparse Mediterranean style gardens sat back from the road.

When the docks came into view again, we started passing bodies.

One or two at first, but by the time we made it to the docks, they covered the ground. Most of the dead fishing folk grasped weapons. Large gashes indicated blade wounds.

Defending the town. Dammit.

We reached the town square with the docks to one side and shipyards on the other. Bloody bodies strewn about on both sides of the street lay as monuments to a violent outcome. Sylas stood in the middle of the carnage scanning the corpses.

A memory of the open portal rushed into my mind. Ships tied to moorings along piers. Crystal waters. Gulls flying overhead.

One ship remained a few hundred yards off shore, but the sails of the others danced on the horizon.

Why are they still here?

It didn’t take a genius to know Sylas searched for his sister among the dead. My heart tugged in empathy.

Footsteps. I whipped my head around as a band of shirtless, helmeted warriors jogged into view. They rooted through the pockets and satchels of the corpses. I ducked behind an old barrel, but Sylas had other plans.

41

He sprinted toward the warriors, screaming.

“Vile cads. You cusk-eeling skin shrifts!” He waved a plank in the air like a madman. “I’ll rive you in twine like a bloody barrel staff…”

“Sylas, what the fuck are you doing?” Halfway across the docks and single-minded, there was no way he heard me over the crashing waves.

The word salad he shouted merged into a din that filled the square, set every dog in the town howling, and sent all the seagulls flying for safety. We pushed over a dune. The four low figures in those morphing helmets trudged toward a small craft with three oars.

The vile word stream ceased when Sylas spotted them. He squinted. His eyebrows arched, then color filled his cheeks.

My chest heaved by the time I caught up. “Sylas?” I grasped the sleeve of his torn shirt.

His arm slipped my clutches, then he was off. Down the dune and onto the beach, he sped toward a straggler who’d fallen behind. I didn’t dare call out lest I alert them to his presence, but the plank in his hand didn’t instill confidence he’d be successful.

Sylas is enraged.

He was about to make a real mess of things. Whatever his plan, I couldn’t let him do it alone. I whipped my wand out then hauled ass after him. As I slid down the dune, I set my eyes on my party mate, and with a simple thought, the information I desired popped up to one side.

Sylas

Level 9 Human

(No Class Selected)

Sylas has 12 Unspent Attribute Points.

These attribute points can be assigned at any time, but you must achieve a higher disposition to spend more than one per level gained going forward.

Pressed for time, I mentally clicked the plus symbols next to his attributes to pump twelve into Constitution since I’d already buffed his strength. If he planned on taking on four enemies, he’d need HP.

Are you sure you wish to spend these attribute points on Sylas?

I focused on ‘Yes’ right before Sylas reared back the plank behind the first dwarven imposter. He howled with such fury the three ahead turned to look back. The jagged edge of the plank slammed into the back of his target’s neck with a hollow thwack I heard over the waves.

Sylas attacks unknown dwarf.

Critical Hit!

Mortal Wound!

Bonus Damage: Sneak attack

Unknown Dwarf

-34 HP

-11 HP (Bleed)

-10 HP (Bleed)

-13 (Bleed)

The dwarf in disguise dropped to his knees. A staff with a blade on one end dropped to the dock. Sylas grabbed his helmet, planted his boot against the warrior’s neck, then shoved while pulling with both hands to rip the head gear away.

The sunbathed warrior trembled and jerked violently as his body transformed, but Sylas didn’t pay it any mind. He dropped to one knee, yanked the dwarf’s weapon from the wooden planks, then thrust it out in a defensive stance against the other three.

Sylas has equipped:

Crude Polearm

Level 8

Type: 2-handed Polearm

Slot: Hands

Damage: 13-17

Quality: Common

Durability: 22 of 30

This item cannot be used to select a class for this companion.

I wonder where my new companion will respawn once they’ve shredded him.

More text filled the screen, but I didn’t have time to read War and Peace.

I checked my XP bar. I was so close to level 10 I figured I’d better get involved.

I aimed my wand at the closest attacker.

Out of range.

I kicked up sand. My legs pumped until my quads and calves protested. Sylas twisted, preparing for the first impact from a two-handed sword a warrior gripped in preparation for an overhead swing.

If we survive, I’m going to kill him.

The first warrior brought the sword down in an overhead arc, but Sylas bent his knees, twisted low to avoid the slash, then thrust the silvery blade of the pole arm up and into his attacker’s ribs.

Sylas Attacks Unknown Dwarf #2

Hit!

Unknown Dwarf #2

-15 HP

A useless thought about how the AI referenced the attacker as a dwarf while morphed crossed my mind, but I pushed it away when another swung a one-handed sword for Sylas’s head. My companion dodged, but the sword cut a gash through the wiry muscle of one shoulder.

Unknown Dwarf #3 Uses Slash.

Sylas

-21 HP

-3 HP (bleed)

The stats grew cumbersome, regardless of how they faded when I focused on the surrounding world, so I swept them away with my mind. When I did, an overlay of data appeared above the heads of Sylas and the morphed fighters. Red numbers with exclamation points announced damage inflicted. Dodge appeared in green letters above Sylas’s head when he evaded a strike.

It was kick ass, despite the thumping in my chest.

To preserve the remains of my Stamina, I halted when a white flash surrounded the closest attacker. A bubble popped over his head.

In range.

God, I loved this game.

Sylas swung his pole arm left to block one attack, then dipped below another. His bangs whipped around with every movement as his enemies pressed, forcing him back toward the tide rolling in behind.

When the water reached his ankles, one attacker feinted left, then brought the pommel up to strike my party mate flush on the chin.

Stun!

The word popped up in yellow letters above Sylas’s head then floated skyward. I drew my wand back, charged it, then unleashed a fireball. It sailed over my intended victim’s shoulder, and I was about to curse when it exploded on one side of his partner’s neck.

The morphed dwarf jolted when the small burst of fire blanketed his neck then singed the wiry hair on his chest.

Unfazed, his partner drove his sword into Sylas’s uninjured shoulder. My companion howled, then his pole arm dropped into the water. The sword came around again, slicing through Sylas’s hand.

The burning dwarf charged in my direction. At least I’d drawn one of them, but two more pressed their attacks, and Sylas’s weapon was submerged.

This was bad. One warrior brought his sword around from left to right at Sylas’s neck, but he dipped, raised one foot, then slammed it into the side of his attacker’s knee. When the bastard dropped into the water, Sylas ducked under another attack, slammed his shoulder into the assailant’s gut, then whipped him over his back in a fireman’s carry to drop him on top of the one whose knee had just buckled. He sprinted after the dwarf charging me before the other two could recover. Although Sylas was undeniably faster, there was no way he’d catch him before he reached me.

I fired off another fireball. The prick dodged. I sent another, then another.

When I stalled for a second to let him draw closer, a new report popped up in the top left of my interface in yellow lettering.

Out of charges.

I didn’t have five seconds to wait, so I dropped it in the sand then whipped the staff off my back just as the enemy leapt from the dock then parried the first incoming strike. I slipped to my left, spun to avoid the next attack, then hustled toward Sylas.

When he neared, I tossed the staff. It would be less cumbersome than the polearm. “Use that!”

Without so much as a glance, he caught the staff then discarded the other as he zipped by. The way he kicked up sand reminded me we did have one advantage—he was accustomed to the environment.

The warrior dug in as Sylas approached. I pressed my fingers to my temples, focused, and just as the dwarf prepared to swing, I let rip with a psionic blast.

Stunned!

And that was all the opening Sylas needed. He spun the staff, twisted to one side, drew it back across his torso, then slammed the tip into the dwarven warrior’s temple. A critical hit notification popped up, then the dwarf tumbled. Sylas pressed his advantage, raising one foot then crunching it down on the shirtless chest of the sword-wielding prick.

The blade dropped from his hands.

Sylas stomped again. Then again. Notifications popped up. The man was enraged. He scored a critical hit with his heel, dropped so his knees landed on his enemy’s shoulders, ripped the helmet off, then brought his fist around in a wild downward roundhouse.

Another blow followed the last as Sylas beat him bloody. Then he raised the helmet and added to the carnage. I wheeled to face the other two, but my gaze fell on their backs as they hustled toward the boat.

Cowards.

Sylas’s fury continued. I sped toward him. The figure beneath raised his arms over his bloodied, pulpy face.

“Wa—”

Although I don’t know what possessed me, I grabbed Sylas arm as it poised for the next assault. “He’s trying to say something.”

“I don’t care!” He ripped his arm free, but stayed his balled fist. Horror washed over me when I realized he’d lost two fingers, but the dwarf spat blood then spoke in a gurgling rhythm.

“Bonchu. Have our children. Do what they tell us.”

Sylas shook his head. “No! You don’t get to make excuses! These people had no weapons. They were no threat to you. Why?”

“Witnesses.”

Before I could react, Sylas twisted around, ripped my dagger free, and plunged it into the dwarf’s face. “Solara as my witness, I will have the blood of every Bonchu scum who sent you.”

I winced at the brutality, but I understood it. How the dwarf remained conscious to confess his reasons, I’d never know, but my mind harkened to the day before in the bowels of the mountain. The dwarf with glowing eyes that dimmed right before he charged the dais—one who wouldn’t fall in line and had to be charmed. Then all the dwarves whose eyes hadn’t glowed. Now I knew they’d also been under the Bonchu’s control, but only because the bastards had their kids. The cost of the charming potions didn’t matter when the Bonchu only had to charm a few. Or maybe it had been the ale. What did I know?

Wow. This world is nuts.

A golden halo surrounded me, whipped around my body like a tornado, then raised me off the sand. Celebration tympani resounded in my ears, then the golden light funneled skyward as I was set easily back to the ground. My interface barfed text despite my having silenced the combat logging.

You have completed a Unique Legacy Quest!

The Bonchu

Objectives:

1. Learn more about the Bonchu who have invaded Bluestone Mountain and the movement of goods to the port: Completed!

New Objective Unlocked:

2. Unravel the mystery of how the Bonchu continue to loot Lau of its resources:

Completed!

Reward:

5,000 XP

Congratulations!

You have reached Level 10!

+1 Intelligence

+1 Constitution

You have two unspent attribute points.

Congratulations!

You have reached Level 11!

+1 Intelligence

+1 Constitution

You have four unspent attribute points.

Congratulations!

You have survived the hardcore levels!

You have now earned the right to journey anywhere in the world of Enora.

You may now bind your soul to locations such as inns, shops, or foundations.

Upon death, you will be returned to your binding place, along with any soul-bound items. A binding crystal has been placed in your inventory.

Your soul-bound companions will now resurrect at your selected binding places when they fall in battle.

The Player Manual Tab is now available in your interface.

Welcome to Enora, adventurer!

Your journey has just begun.

The dwarven body quivered, kicked violently in its death throes, then lay still.

Sylas stood, eyed the fleeing pair, then glanced my way. He pointed at my staff in the sand.

I nodded then went to recover it. When I turned back, he was trudging up the hill, his feet cutting little swaths in the sand. I grabbed my wand then pursued.

Holy shit! I’d done it. I knew this was just the beginning of my new life, and I’d never start over again. But the joy I’d expected came muted. The bodies littered about—NPC or not—muffled my desire to yip in celebration.

Because Sylas.

I pumped a fist while I was certain his back was turned.

My party mate walked through a small gate into a modest yard that prefaced one of the wooden structures.

I brought up my interface, noted the location of the Player’s Manual Tab for future use, then spotted Sylas in the corner of the yard. Kneeling. Shaking.

While my inclination was to ask what the hell he’d been thinking charging into that mess, I’d reached level 11 because of his bloodied fists. Well, indirectly.

He turned his face up. Tears cut clean streaks down his dirty cheeks.

A young woman’s body twisted at the waist with her arms splayed out next to her head. Sylas reached down and ran the fingers of his uninjured hand over her eyes.

“Oh, no. Your sister?”

He nodded then swiped the tears from his eye with a knuckle. I pressed my palm against his back.

“Sylas, I'm sorry.”

He grumbled. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

I stared down at his sister, sighed, then gathered my thoughts. The way he quivered spurred a rush of anger, and I rattled words without regard for their meaning. “We’re going to make them pay. By the time we’re done with the Bonchu, we’ll be level 50.” I gripped the shoulder. “We will make them pay.”

“It’s not your fight, Kyra.”

“If it’s your fight, it’s mine. There’s nothing you can do or say to stop me.”

You are being offered a Legacy Quest:

Vengeance

Kill 100 Bonchu to avenge the death of Sylas’s sibling.

Rewards:

XP commensurate with your level at the time of completion.

One weapon of epic quality commensurate with your level at the time of completion.

You will be awarded one full combat level, regardless of your level at the time of completion.

2,500 gold

This quest is shareable with companions.

The word ‘yes’ crossed through my mind before I could draw a breath, but something about sharing the quest while my first companion in Enora mourned over his sister seemed uncouth. It could wait.

But when I eyed her crumpled body a second time. I reconsidered. If the NPCs were as genuine as they appeared, a quest titled vengeance was exactly what he needed. I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. That I would roll with him until the deed was done.

I shared the damn quest.

He stood, surveying the carnage and leapt to one of the fallen warriors. This time, however, it wasn’t morphed like the others. He ripped the helmet off its head with a howl of frustration. A light skinned man dressed in loose gray silks with a long goatee.

Sylas kicked the corpse in the side of the face. Something cracked.

He thrust a finger. “Bonchu!”

Then I realized, armed or not, his people had fought back. I spotted two more corpses wearing helmets. Sylas moved to the next one and ripped off the helmet. A woman this time. Definitely not a dwarf. He moved to the third.

I raised one helmet from the sand then scanned it to read the description, skipping the attributes.

Iron Helm

This helm has been magically enhanced to morph its wearer’s appearance. It recharges once per day.

Effect Duration: 2 hours.

When I scanned my surroundings, I spied a final being with a helmet turned upside down in the sand next to him. I jerked when his arm flailed skyward then plopped into the sand.

Wait. Is he a…

I ambled over and knelt. The purplish skin left no doubt about it. I analyzed.

DevinFTW

Level 7 Shade Elf Fighter

“You… You’re a player.”

Blood bubbled from his mouth. His lips moved, but a sucking chest wound muffled his words. I wondered why he hadn’t recovered XP, then it hit me.

Mortal wound.

That meant he was draining health at an equal rate the speed he lost it.

Dude! Sick!

I turned and eyed the missing fingers on Sylas’s hands. That wasn’t a mortal wound, but they hadn’t regenerated. I checked my inventory, but it only confirmed what I already knew. I was out of healing potions.

“Well, I hope your pain mitigation is turned up, buddy, cause that looks like it sucks.”

He gasped another bloody breath.

Sylas appeared, tugged my shoulder, then stepped around me.

“Whoa, Sylas hold on.”

He plunged my dagger into the player’s neck.

“You would protect him because he’s one of yours?” His eyes were filled with rage.

“One of mine? No. Hell, no. I just wanted to ask him questions. Like why he helped the Bonchu.”

DevinFTW disappeared in a silvery puff. Sylas sprang back, patting motes off of his clothing as they shimmered and disappeared.

“What was that?”

“That’s what’s going to happen if you or I ever fall in battle. We’ll return to our spawn point. You get it now?”

“Then he is like you.” He shot me an accusatory glare.

“Only in that he came from my world and chose the same race.” I poked his chest. “But not the same path.”

Sylas cocked an eyebrow. “How is this? How do you choose a race?”

“It’s…complicated.” Movement caught my eye across the square, and I used it as an excuse to break up the topic. I swung my arm and poked the air. “Look, Sylas.”

Survivors appeared in the doorways of the dilapidated buildings. Villagers. They peered from behind shutters and crawled out of hiding places.

“I can help. Whatever you need to do, dig graves, rebuild…”

Sylas shook his head. “No, it's best you go. But—I will be coming with you.” He snatched up another polearm left behind by the dead player.

“What? Why? These are your people. Our bond doesn’t—”

He shook his head.

Sylas has accepted your offered quest:

Vengeance

“My sister was mean-spirited when it came to family. If I lay dead, she would have gone to every corner of Enora in search of vengeance. We might not be warriors, but we’re not wimps, either.” He cocked his chin toward a dead Bonchu. ”Besides, I’d rather have fading memories than see this place every day.”

An image of my old office popped into my mind. Despite years working there, it was already fading, and for the first time since I entered the world, the truth finally hit home. It was over. My life was gone. And I’d never miss it. Not one little bit.

I scanned Sylas’s features then nodded. “Then I’m with you, Sylas.” I patted his back. “And we’re going to make them pay.”

42

I paced around Sylas’s home while he rolled up a hammock hanging in the corner, then stuffed it into a sack. After seeing the rest of the structures lined along the coast, I hadn’t expected such a ship-shape setup, but he was a carpenter.

While he packed a few tools, fishing line, hooks, and a well-weathered but well-made fishing rod, I admired the tight alignment of the floorboards. A table with polished planks. From a simple dresser, I intuited an intense attention to detail.

It pricked my mind with sadness that he’d have to leave the larger tools behind, like a painter forced to leave his brushes.

When we made for the door and my new companion took a final look back, I opened my interface then ticked the option to bind us there. If things went to shit, at least his resurrection point would be familiar.

His interface must’ve reported the change as his facial features morphed into an expression I hadn’t seen before. An appreciation for his new lot in life? Immortality?

“So, this is where we’d come if we fell in battle?”

I nodded. “Yes, but we’ll want to change it when we reach a new port. If we get lackadaisical about it, we could end up losing a lot of ground. Days, even weeks of travel time.”

He slung the sack over his shoulder. “Your logic seems sound. Shall we?”

When we discussed our travel options, I’d shown him the compass Andrew gifted me on my first day in Enora. If it worked like I expected, we could create a ship then sail across the ocean ourselves at a later date—when I reached level 12.

“Don’t misunderstand, Kyra, because I’ve never even imagined such a miraculous item. But if we plan to use it, we will need a third crewman. Even a Dhow requires three.”

Either way, we’d need transportation, and I’d had enough of Lau’s underground pyramids, blinding powders, deserts, and morphing dwarf slave keepers for one lifetime.

The sooner, the better.

When I returned the compass to the bag, I saw the tome Andrew found beneath the desert then yanked it out of its slot. I blew dust from its leather cover then ran my fingers along the grooves while I read the title.

The Nefarious Scourge of Necri’tes

And

A Warning to the Sailors of the Low Seas

“Hm. That sounds interesting.”

Sylas sidled up beside me. “What’s that?”

“A book I picked up in the Undersands.”

He eyed the cover. “Ah, Necri’tes.”

“You know him?”

“It’s a her. Everyone knows the stories of the evil demigoddess and her undead navy.”

“Really?”

He raised a shoulder in disinterest. “Should make for interesting shipboard reading when you’re not working.”

“Wait. I’m working?”

He smiled then sauntered off.

You are being offered a Legacy Quest!

The Demigoddess

Read the lore contained in the tome and learn the history of Demigoddess Necri’tes and the Undead Navy of the Low Seas to uncover a path to great rewards!

Rewards:

An entirely unique quest line available only to the player who found this tome.

A unique quest line. Yes! I loved it.

Although the meager savings he kept in the back of the dresser and what little loot and coin I’d snagged wouldn’t be enough to buy us passage to the next port, Sylas was willing to lend his sailing expertise in exchange for any shortfalls. A captain could always use another sailor. Besides, it would be a fishing vessel and, as much as he despised it, Sylas carried the demeanor of a guy who could catch a whale on a bamboo pole.

A brazen one on his best day, he wanted to make a beeline for Bonchuria to exact his revenge. It took me twenty minutes to talk him down, but when he stopped complaining long enough to understand why we had to advance first—and maybe make some friends before we took on a whole civilization—he calmed.

Besides, if we could barely afford to get to the first port, what were we going to do? Swim the rest of the way?

We made our way through the village and down to the docks. Sylas received a few parting waves, but I didn’t get the impression anyone wanted to talk him out of leaving. I supposed they had enough to mourn.

One ship rocked at the dock. I eyed a smattering of barnacles that bobbed above water with suspicion. Somehow, I’d thought it would be bigger.

Story of my life.

The captain proved to be a woman with heavily tanned skin and salt and pepper hair. She sat on the rail of the ship. Sylas stopped on the gangway to talk turkey. After a few moments, he handed her our payment.

“Thank you, Ventura.” He half-bowed.

“I’m sorry what happened to your sister.” She had a soft but husky voice. He nodded, then stepped onto the ship.

I set foot on the gangway. It slid as the boat rocked.

The woman he’d called Ventura addressed me. “Are you all right, hon?”

“Yeah. I’ll squeak by.”

“You wear the green tone of one who doesn’t like boats. Seen it a thousand times.” She patted the rail. “It doesn't matter so long as boats like you.” She shot me a crooked smile.

I nodded, grabbed the rail, then timed my next step to hop on board when the plank leveled. I breathed the salty air and scanned the deck of the ship.

A thunderous blast of horns nearly sent me into the water. Words flashed gold across my interface.

Welcome to the high seas in Enora Online!

An adventure unto themselves, the oceans of Enora offer and endless foray into lore, ship-to-ship battles, and yes, PVP!

Sail across the world! Battle pirates and sea creatures! Discover untold treasures of the deep!

I stared out at the endless ocean and its crashing white caps.

It’s on, now.

THE END

ENORA UNLEASHED BOOK 2 IS AVAILABLE

We hope you enjoyed The Undersands! If you’re ready to continue your journey across the Low Seas and the introduction of ships into the Enoraverse, you can find book 2 HERE.

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