Fantasy Online: Hyperborea
Author: Harmon Cooper
Date: 2017-05-06 19:33:08+00:00
Description: Nineteen-year-old Ryuk Matsuzaki and his best friend Tamana decide to start over with new avatars. When Tamana is suddenly killed right in front of him in a Tokyo subway, Ryuk knows there is only one place he can search for answers -Tritania, the world's most popular online fantasy world. Standing in his way are a mysterious guild known as the Shinigami, and his older brother, a Yakuza crime lord hell-bent on squashing his dreams. As a lowly Ballistics Mage, Ryuk must quickly recruit guild members, level up, loot and shoot his way across Tritania to discover the dark and sinister secret behind
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

Fantasy Online

Hyperborea

(Book One)

By Harmon Cooper

Edited by George C. Hopkins

Copyright © 2017 by Harmon Cooper

Copyright © 2017 Boycott Books

Cover by Tom Shutt

Edited by George C. Hopkins (georgechopkins@yahoo.com)

www.harmoncooper.com
writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com

Twitter: @_HarmonCooper

To add me on Facebook, click here.

All rights reserved. All rights preserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Map of Hyperborea

Author’s Note

Prologue: Troll battles

Chapter 1: Tamana’s great leap of faith

Chapter 2: Home is where the killer droid is

Chapter 3: Digital hallucinations

Chapter 4: Goblin security and why you’re better off without it

Chapter 5: Paradise of the Insane

Chapter 6: Brotherly love

Chapter 7: Is this the real life, or is itファンタシー?

Chapter 8: Natty Dread

Chapter 9: Dream armor or bust

Chapter 10: The Thulean

Chapter 11: Back to life, back to reality

Chapter 12: Hanging coffins

Chapter 13: Breakfast in the sky

Chapter 14: Cherry blossom ninjas

Chapter 15: Game changer

Chapter 16: The gun has no trigger

Chapter 17: Boaster Toaster

Chapter 18: A tendril of white magic

Chapter 19: Digital memories

Chapter 20: A puppetless puppetmaster

Chapter 21: Rilakkuma pancakes on the fly

Chapter 22: Dirty Dave’s Armor and Weapons Depot

Chapter 23: Orc zombie battle royal

Chapter 24: An egg for another day

Chapter 25: Drop in, drop out

Chapter 26: Kaizen

Chapter 27: Shogyo Mujo

Chapter 28: Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service

Chapter 29: Life in the fast lane

Chapter 30: The golden door

Epilogue: Brother’s keeper

Ryuk Matsuzaki’s character sheet

LAUNCH MONTH SPECIAL OFFER

Tritania Basics

Acknowledgements & More

Fantasy Online Merch!

The Feedback Loop preview

LitRPG book list

The Fantasy Online series is dedicated to the memory of Tom Shutt.

Map of Hyperborea

Click to enlarge

“Continents, three,

Float over the Endless Sea,

Hyperborea, Polynya, and Ultima Thule.”

--A famous Tritanian poem

“Takha bae bitakh novlaa rakh Aya Bortaetae,

Huborakha, Polonkhya, Hutamae Dulekh.”

--Written in Romanized Thulean

Author’s Note

The Proxima Galaxy consists of uncounted digital dreamworlds, all developed by the Proxima Company, a very specialized entertainment corporation. To access a dreamworld, one ‘dives’ with the aid of a neuronal visualization (NV) visor, which induces a lucid dream-like state for the ultimate first person VR experience.

Tritania is the VRMMORPG world in which the action of this novel takes place; the real world setting is 2075 Tokyo, Japan.

Within Tritania, there are three floating continents. The starter continent is Hyperborea, which is the setting for this book. To travel to the next floating continent, Polynya, a player must reach level 15. To travel to the third continent, Ultima Thule, a player must reach level 35. The game mechanics of Tritania are based on the JRPGs that shaped my childhood.

For more information about Tritania, I’ve included a Tritania Basics section at the back of this book, including an explanation on the in-game language spoken in Tritania, some of the common terms, time, and the relation of this book my other series, most notably, The Feedback Loop. Tritania Basics is accessible through the table of contents.

-Harmon Cooper

Prologue: Troll battles

At half the length of her body, Tamana’s buster sword is meant to be held with both hands, to be used as both a shield and a weapon, but she’s never been one to do things in a conventional way. She takes to the air, and following a perfect arc, she slashes through the enemy troll’s poorly crafted leather chest plate.

-15 HP!

She botches the landing, still not used to her buster sword’s weight, and cartwheels to the right. A fiery explosion suddenly flings the mountain troll backwards.

-5 HP!

Glancing over her shoulder, Tamana watches Ryuk load another black marble into his magic slingshot. He pulls back and lets go. A blast at the troll’s hairy feet produces a cloud of dust and a scattering of debris.

“Both hands on the sword!” Ryuk shouts to her for the third time that afternoon. He pops off another black marble at the feet of the troll, causing more dust to obscure the air. Range isn’t an issue with his magic slingshot; it propels the marbles with magic, not elastic, and it self-adjusts for range.

This is a good thing, as Ryuk is utterly terrible with his new avatar.

Tamana is by his side moments later, the strands of her long white hair beating in the wind. “My attack looked cool though, right?” she asks.

He has to smile at this.

“You chose a much stronger avatar than I did,” he reminds her.

She winks at him. “You always were up for a challenge.”

They lock eyes for a moment longer than necessary.

A smaller troll, likely the bigger troll’s wench, flanks the two. Grimy dreadlocks cover her face and yellow man-bone jewelry clinks around her neck. She pauses, grunts, and charges.

Ryuk loses his footing and muffs his next shot. The marble explodes and a nearby bush bursts into flame.

Still holding her weapon incorrectly, Tamana side swipes her ironing board of a sword at the she-troll and manages to cut the wench’s hairy arm clean off at the elbow. The she-troll shrieks as her black blood jets into the air.

-39 HP! Critical hit!

The dust clears. “Doka duchaka!” Maddened with rage, the savage male troll charges at the two with his fists held high over his head.

“I’ve got this!” Ryuk procures a clear marble from the pocket on his belt, pulls back, and looses it.

What the … ?

The male troll freezes in place, his chiseled arms still held over his head. Ryuk glances back to Tamana to find that she’s also fixed in place, her tremendous sword held awkwardly in the ‘ready enough’ position at her side. Turning to the dying female troll, he gasps once he sees that the blood spraying from her arm is pixelated, it too frozen in midair. From the grass that was moments ago blowing in the wind, to a bead of sweat on the side of Tamana’s face – everything around him is completely stationary.

But I can still move, he thinks as he squeezes the handle of his slingshot.

Not knowing how long he has until time returns to its normal pace, Ryuk moves to the side of the alpha troll, takes a few steps back just to give himself some distance, reaches for a black marble and …

Time blazes ahead and the troll turns to him.

Taken off guard, Ryuk is seconds from being clobbered when the tip of Tamana’s buster sword pierces the creature’s chest, splashing oily black ichor onto Ryuk’s face.

Instakill!

The troll slumps forward and Tamana kicks his corpse off her buster sword. She keeps the troll’s blood on the blade as she turns to his smaller counterpart. One clean swipe and she finishes off the she-troll too.

-17 HP!

They are each awarded experience points and the guild coffers increase by about a hundred rupees. With a flick of his wrist, Ryuk checks their stats and swipes them away.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 2 Ballistics Mage

HP: 87/115

ATK: 40

DEF: 5

MATK: 51

MDF: 18

LUCK: 3

Tamana Nakamura Level 2 White Warrior

HP: 85/138

MANA: 68/79

ATK: 52

DEF: 19

MATK: 12

MDF: 38

LUCK: 3

“That was crazy ... ” Tamana wipes the digital sweat from her forehead. She stabs her bloodied sword into the soil, something she’s grown fond of doing since taking her new avatar. Glittery magic spirals around her hands as she lifts her arms into the air. A halo takes shape over her crown and a cloud forms over the two; iridescent snowflakes gently settle onto their heads and shoulders.

+45 HP!

“What did you do back there?” She asks, after they’ve healed up. “How did you freeze time? That’s, like, a level 30 spell or something!”

Ryuk shows her one of his clear marbles. “It’s these clear marbles. Like I told you, they’re wild cards.”

“You should have used more of those when we were leveling up earlier.” She shoots him one of her knowing smiles that he’s grown fond of over the years.

He shrugs her off. “I wanted to play it safe. I knew the black marbles were explosive, and they seemed the way to go.” He returns the clear marble to the pocket on his belt. “That was definitely cooler than I thought it would be. Next time, I’ll, um, do something a bit more productive when time freezes.”

The question he wants to ask is on the tip of his tongue.

He holds it there, decides to go for it, decides against it. Tamana and Ryuk had been gaming together for years. Ryuk wants something more and sometimes, he thinks that Tamana does too. One of the main reasons he’d agreed to re-roll, to become a resetter and start the game with a new avatar was to show her how committed he was to her.

Now he needed to say something about it. “Ahem … ”

Tamana’s smile fades as the thought of real world responsibilities spreads across her face. “I really need to log out now and take care of some homework. I keep pushing it off.”

Shit. He kicks a piece of rubble away. “Same here, but not homework – family.”

“You’re meeting your brother today?”

“Later today.”

Her eyes fill with concern. “Be careful, Ryuk.”

“You do the same.”

“My homework isn’t that dangerous!” With a laugh, she lifts her hand and the logout button appears, rimmed in glimmering gold. “See you soon.”

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

Ryuk pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, realizes he’s acting oddly, and looks up at her, away, and back again.

“What is it?”

He swallows hard. “Do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow night? I’d really like that.”

She shrugs him off. “Tomorrow night? Yeah, that’ll work. Same place? I love the miso ramen there.” Tamana cocks her head at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Dammit, Ryuk thinks, don’t be awkward!

“I mean, okay, how about I just come out and say it? Would that help?”

“You don’t like ramen?” she laughs. “I knew it! You never finish your bowl.”

“Not that.” Ryuk wipes his hands on his pant legs. “Okay here it is. I wanted to know if you’d like to go to a nicer place, some place more romantic.”

“More romantic?” Tamana turns away from him.

“Yes, like one of those Italian restaurants in Ginza. Or … ” He thinks as his face fills with blood. “Tokyo Sky Tree. Yes! We could have dinner there.”

Tamana gives him a curious look. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“No!” Ryuk shuffles his feet. “I mean, not exactly, um, yes exactly. Yes. Sure, let’s call it a date. What do you say?”

She gives him a warm smile and nods. “Let’s talk about it later. Bye, Ryuk.” With that, she presses the logout button and her avatar dematerializes.

Chapter 1: Tamana’s great leap of faith

The NV Visor powers off.

As Tamana has done so many times before, she takes a deep breath and returns to her reality, away from the fantasy dreamworld that is Tritania. Even though her dorm is quiet, she can still hear the techno-mechanical bustle of the Tokyo streets below. There’s an indention on her brow, something she occasionally experiences when she wears a visor for too long.

She places the NV Visor on her pillow and takes off her haptic gloves.

Tamana sighs as she looks at a Flight Feet poster tacked to her wall. Set in Tritania, the same world she frequently dives to, the anime series reenacts famous quests and looting adventures. She’s followed the show for years, and two summers ago, she went to the annual Flight Feet convention at Tokyo Big Sight as Empress Thun.

“Just for a few hours,” she reminds herself. The thought of Ryuk asking her on a date returns to her. She smiles and the floor beneath her gently vibrates.

Typical for earthquake-prone Japan, Tamana hardly notices the subtle tremor.

She opens her eyes and her iNet screen appears directly on her retinae. She rereads the last real world message she received from Ryuk. He still doesn’t like the fact that she’d decided to start over in Tritania with brand new avatars, but he went along with it and she appreciates that about him.

She appreciates a lot about him, actually. Ryuk is a great guy, and while she never really explored it, her feelings for him have really grown since they graduated high school. He isn’t like the other gamers she’d met. He’s polite, quiet, considerate. Handsome too.

Tamana is just about to send Ryuk a message telling him she’d love to go on a date when something outside strikes the wall, bulging it inward.

The air conditioner jumps loose and hits the floor, its cord still plugged in.

Panicked, Tamana leaps to her feet and moves for the door; moves as far away as she can get from whatever is bulging the wall.

The wall flexes and ripples; a crack forms and grows from floor to ceiling. Bits and pieces of concrete and plasterboard tumble to the floor in a cloud of dust. As the crack widens, a hideous yellow eye peers in at her; a tremendous carnivore’s claw tears at the hole and widens it.

Tamana shrieks her surprise and terror, bolts from the room and slams the door behind her. She stops, looks back, listens intently for a moment as her breath comes hard and fast.

She rubs her eyes. Whatever she just saw can’t be real.

As if to give lie to that thought, the creature explodes through the wall and collapses into the hallway. It rises to its haunches; snarls, roars, and inflates the sacs around its neck into a monstrous veiny ruff. The monstrosity bellows again, curls its tongue and gnashes the ivory scimitars that are its teeth.

It can’t be real.

No one else sees it or hears it; there’s no noise, no commotion, no panicked exodus.

And then the creature’s stats appear:

Gunsyakhai ‘Land Dragon’ Level ??

HP: 3400/3400

ATK: 294

DEF: 551

MATK: 0

MDF: 471

LUCK: 12

“Stats? A land dragon?” she whispers, just as her reptilian brain votes overwhelmingly for FLIGHT and propels her to the main entrance of her dormitory. “Run!” she shrieks over her shoulder to a girl exiting her room. “It’s coming!”

“What?”

“RUN!”

She doesn’t wait for her dorm mate to response; she doesn’t wait to hear the land dragon tear her to shreds and snap her bones.

Seven stories worth of stairs make Tamana’s legs rubbery and weak, but she ignores the pain. Escape is everything; she pushes herself to gain as much distance from the monster as possible. Only when she has burst out to the busy streets of Shibuya does she stop to take a breath.

A bicyclist whips past her and nearly sends Tamana to the ground.

Damn!

A construction worker in baggy jodhpurs, a hachimaki headscarf, and a hard hat carries his lunch pail to his jobsite. A teen dressed as a maid clicks and clacks her heels against the pavement as she heads to the subway station, bound for Akihabara. A cacophony of bells and whistles chases a cloud of cigarette smoke through the open door of a pachinko parlor.

Tamana sucks in great volumes of tainted air and turns her head and looks up at her dormitory building.

It’s nothing … She rubs her temples for a moment and forcibly exhales.

Seven stories above her, the glass siding of her dormitory explodes outward as the land dragon plummets from the building. Its tiny wings flap hummingbird fast to no avail. The creature’s shadow looms over her; she dodges as shards of glass rain down around her.

This can’t be happening!

She’s already in motion as a shockwave knocks her forward. She refuses to look over her shoulder, refuses to let the creature catch her.

“Ryuk,” she says the name of her best friend again, “Ryuk!”

An instant message box appears on her pupil-based iNet screen.

Tamana: Help me! Near you! Going to Shinsen Station!

He replies instantly.

Ryuk: What’s happening!?

Tamana: Please, it’s coming!

A person in a Kumamon outfit stands outside an electronics store touting a sale. Tamana blazes past and shouts “Run!” over her shoulder.

Too late.

The costumed huckster’s cry of alarm cuts off as the land dragon stomps him flat.

Fear makes her swift, so focused is she on escape. Tamana races for the station, her only hope of sanctuary and salvation. She smacks her knee into an outdoor stand in front of a kissaten. Tears stream back across her face as she catches another message from Ryuk.

Ryuk: What’s coming!?

Tamana: Please. Please. Be there in five minutes. PLEASE!

Ryuk: What is going on? Are you okay?

The entrance to the Shinsen Station is only a few blocks away.

Even though her leg muscles are on fire, even though her heart is about to explode, Tamana continues her adrenaline-fueled sprint to the station. She weaves through pedestrians, illegally crosses streets, is almost sideswiped by a lowering aeros taxi, and spins and leaps over a woman pushing a baby stroller. The dragon-like creature relentlessly pursues her, roaring and bellowing and slaughtering all who stand in its way.

Another glance over her shoulder and she knows without doubt that her efforts won’t be enough, that there will be no happy ending to this story, that the creature will catch her and kill her.

Unless she kills it first.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she huffs.

Tamana skids to a halt at one of the entrances to the Shinsen Station. She hears the terrible monstrosity roar as she begins her descent.

Breakneck speed.

Her feet are pistons on pavement, her shoulders shovelers of bodies, her gaze aimed and angled downward. The land dragon smashes its bulk through a pillar and a portion of the subway entrance collapses around it. The monster cries out in anger; blood-tinged saliva hurtles from its gaping maw.

Tamana hits the bottom of the first stairwell and slaps her cheek. She rubs her eyes again to wipe away the image that just won’t leave. Is it a glitch? How is this even possible? Something has gone horribly wrong, and other than gouging out her eyeballs to fully disconnect her iNet feed, she has no idea how to make the creature stop.

“Come on …”

A Tritanian land dragon, shouldn’t be chasing her, not in Tokyo, not in the real world!

The rational part of her mind knows this; the rational part of her mind knows that she logged out of Tritania and took off her NV Visor; the rational part of her mind even suggests that Tamana let the creature catch her; this is the real world – it can’t do anything, it shouldn’t even exist here.

But the monster rips through a manga stand and the salesperson inside. Blood splatters the walls, bits of flesh actually land on her arm. She hears the creature tear into the subway station; she shudders at the death cries of those smashed beneath the rubble.

She stops just before the final stairwell and briefly turns to the land dragon. It cracks its hulking tail into an electronic billboard advertising Suntory Whiskey. Tamana picks up the pace – she thinks she sees Ryuk – but the station is too crowded to tell for sure.

Down another flight of stairs, Tamana collides with a pair of overworked salarymen in their crisply pressed suits. No time to bow, no time to apologize. She hits the bottom and bolts straight to the edge of the platform, where she stops, hesitates, thinks otherwise for a single, prolonged second.

Tamana’s leap induces gasps from those nearby.

Her landing, the sound of the train horn, the sickening crack.

Tamana is struck by the incoming train.

Tamana is struck by the incoming train.

The salarymen lift their heads, a woman drops her umbrella, a child reaches for its mother’s open arms, a white-gloved conductor runs towards her at sixty frames per second.

(0)__(0)

“Tamana! No!” Ryuk ends his desperate chase and slides to a halt.

Out of breath, Ryuk utters a sharp curse and slaps the flat of his hand against the pavement. Vomit rises in his stomach. He swallows the urge down as the crowd comes to life all around him. “Tamana!”

He wants to scream her name again, he wants to cry out, to somehow arrive in the train station moments earlier and stop her from jumping.

Why Tamana why? His thoughts scream inside his head.

All their interactions over the last several years come to him in a flash. They’d done everything together, gamed together, studied together in high school, gone to Tritania cons together. There was never a time in which she exhibited suicidal tendencies. She was a cheerful, happy person.

He truly believed she didn’t have a bad side.

Tears stream down Ryuk’s face. He sits with his back against the wall for a moment, oblivious to the people around him.

Alarms sound, bystanders jostle for position, snap their photos and instantly post them on iNet. A pair of conductors produce kawaii panda-shaped plastic barriers and urge the crowd back from the platform. Medics in light blue uniforms appear. An older man tsks at the fact that another Japanese youth has just committed suicide.

Ryuk swallows hard.

He reviews the messages he had just received from Tamana. He reads them again and again, looking for a reason for her actions, stupidly hoping to discover why she’d just killed herself.

Tamana: Help me! Near you! Going to Shinsen Station.

Ryuk: What’s happening!?

Tamana: Please! It’s coming!

Ryuk: What’s coming!?

Tamana: Please. Please. Be there in five minutes. PLEASE!

Ryuk: What is going on? Are you okay?

Ryuk: I’m here. Where are you? Are you okay?

Nothing, he thinks, there’s nothing there.

Ryuk staggers to his feet. Police have already begun to arrive he knows better than to get involved with them, not with his family ties to the Yakuza.

He turns away from the crowd.

Each step feels weighted, as if he is trying to climb up a sand dune. He can hardly keep it together, hardly keep himself together. The numbing pain is debilitating. He can’t believe this actually happened.

It can’t be …

The stairs that lead out of the subway seem so far away. Eons away. He envisions Tamana at the top as he climbs.

This can’t be true.

More tears come and he wipes them away. He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up, and takes another weighted step.

Just need to get home, he thinks.

Chapter 2: Home is where the killer droid is

Ryuk doesn’t say a single word to the two thugs in the lobby of his apartment building, nor does he make eye contact with the two on his floor. His guards are ever-present, stereotypical Yakuza muscle from the latest Jollywood flick. Clean-cut suits with the top two buttons open, shiny materials, polished Italian boots, thin gold chains around their necks, the works. The fucking thugs.

And that’s not the scary part.

The scary part is inside, Hajime, his humandroid bodyguard.

Ryuk has been around these types of droids his entire life and nothing really bothers him about them, aside from the fact that Hajime could kill him in more ways than Ryuk can count.

“That was fast,” Hajime the humandroid says instead of hello. He wears a traditional Japanese robe and his hair is tied back into a manbun. “Did you happen to meet Tamana? I wouldn’t worry about the guards below; they won’t tell your brother that you snuck out.”

Is he reading my iNet messages again? Ryuk stares the humandroid down for a moment. He wipes his face and tries to cover the fact that he’s been sobbing.

“Your vitals indicate that you’ve experienced a recent trauma. There are comfort foods good for hyperstress. Would you care for something?”

Ryuk feels tears come and he sucks them down.

Hajime’s eyebrows lift. “What happened?”

“Not now, Hajime, please, not now.” Ryuk suddenly feels faint. He stretches his hand out to the wall to catch his balance. Hajime is at his side moments later. The droid helps Ryuk stabilize himself long enough for Ryuk to get his shoes off. He slips into his slippers and Hajime helps him to his bedroom.

Ryuk sobs and swallows again.

Tamana’s image keeps coming to him. The vision of her leaping into the coming train keeps replaying in his mind’s eye over and over again. Why Tamana, he thinks, why did you do it?

He suddenly feels incredibly stupid for trying to ask her out, he then feels stupid for feeling stupid for trying to ask her out after watching her die. The emotions are overwhelming, confusing. The urge to vomit again comes to him.

She didn’t deserve this.

Hajime leads him to his bed and Ryuk lies down. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Tamana’s dead.” Ryuk grabs Hajime’s arm.

“What?”

“I watched her jump in front of the train. I saw her do it with my own two eyes!” he sobs again, chokes it down. “She did it … ” He’s beside himself again. “The sound … the train. I saw it all!”

“She killed herself?” Hajime’s cadence and inflection sounds like any other Japanese man but he hasn’t quite mastered the art of human empathy.

Ryuk nods; he presses his blankets away and glances around his room. His room is clean, minimal, aside from a different black hooded sweater tossed onto his haptic chair. He wipes his runny nose.

“Just relax here,” Hajime turns to the door. “I’ll get you some tissue.”

Chapter 3: Digital hallucinations

A clawed hand tears Ryuk’s door from its hinges.

“Hajime!”

Ryuk scrambles to the ground and he sees a Thulean warrior – a dragon-descended humanoid – grab Hajime by the back of the neck. The image twitches and Hajime is suddenly standing there, normal as ever, staring curiously at Ryuk.

It cuts back and now the droid is being choked again. “Hajime!”

A hand presses over Ryuk’s eyes; a dazzling burst of light flickers across the inside of his eyelids. He kicks his feet and struggles to free himself from the steely grip. He tucks his chin into the crook of the elbow that encircles his neck; his teeth find purchase and he bears down hard. The arm tastes like …

Nothing. Cloth maybe, or some sort of skin-like plastic, but that’s about it.

“Relax.”

Why is Hajime’s voice behind me now!?

Ryuk swallows hard and struggles to master the overwhelming terror that surges through him. The realization strikes him – he’s sitting on the floor and someone is behind him, holding him as a mother would comfort her child. He tries to stand, but the arms restrain him.

“You’re hallucinating something,” the voice says into his ear.

“Hajime?”

“Open your eyes slowly. Remember, whatever you see is not real.”

Hajime’s voice.

“Hallucinating?” Ryuk asks.

“I’m here, nothing can hurt you. I’m removing my hand now.”

After a trembling breath, Ryuk opens his eyes. The Thulean’s stats appear on his iNet screen:

Thulean Warrior Level ??

HP: 5309/5309

ATK: 867

DEF: 2960

MATK: 131

MDF: 2116

LUCK: 311

Ryuk stares in horror as the Thulean brandishes a pointed spear and tests the weapon’s balance with a flashy whirl-parry-thrust. The dragon-descended humanoid’s grin is all pointed teeth and forked tongue. Painted on his forehead are three blood-red lines under a crescent moon.

“What do you see?” Hajime whispers in Ryuk’s ear.

“He’s … he’s … ”

Coming for me!

The Thulean casts a fanged grin and steps into a ready position.

His armor clinks as he charges at Ryuk.

(0)__(0)

The Thulean warrior’s spear passes through Ryuk’s body, followed by his hand, his arm, his shoulder, and his chest. All of him seemingly disappears right into Ryuk’s chest.

He blinks his eyes rapidly as he tries to comprehend it all.

The Thulean is suddenly gone, vanished completely. Ryuk’s in his room on the ground with Hajime behind him, who still holds tightly onto him.

“It’s over.” Hajime relaxes his grip on Ryuk’s body. “Relax.”

“What … was that?” He breathes heavily for a moment as he rubs his eyes. Suddenly visible on his pane of vision are a few minimized chat boxes, including Tamana’s final real world message.

“I’m going to let go now.”

“Fine,” Ryuk says, suddenly ashamed by his actions.

“I’ve scanned your vitals, and they are all within normal limits. Tox scan is negative, and I can find no cause for the hallucinatory episode you’ve just endured. May I tap your feed?”

“Please do,” Ryuk pulls himself to his feet and returns to his bed. A prompt appears on his pane of vision as Hajime accesses his feed.

[Will you allow Hajime, Model 08-67-53-09 to access your feed?]

[Yes/No]

“Yes.”

“Good. I would like to review your feed from when you followed Tamana into the train station. You did actually see her, correct?”

“I did,” he gulps, “right before she jumped.”

Ryuk’s stomach still churns from his unexpected encounter with a Thulean, in Tokyo. If he just hallucinated a Thulean warrior, what could Tamana possibly have seen?

“Maybe … ” he sniffs. “Maybe she was seeing something too, just like I did!”

“Clearly,” Hajime’s eyes flash, “but what I was checking was in regards to your feed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me show you.”

Hajime approaches the Holoscreen attached to Ryuk’s wall.

Ryuk rarely uses the thing – why watch anime on a screen when you can simply lie back and watch it on the inside of your eyelids? Still, it is helpful, or at least it was helpful, when he was enrolled at Waseda University.

As soon as the screen comes to life, the Waseda University bear mascot does a little dance in the bottom right corner. Ryuk has been meaning to fix that, but he still entertains the possibility of re-enrolling.

“Give me a moment to arrange the videos.”

Hajime stands in front of the screen and the volume icon appears. It adjusts itself, and once it is at a low level, two iNet feeds come up in split-screen. On the left is what Ryuk saw at the subway. On the right is his view of what just happened in his bedroom.

“This may be a bit disorienting,” Hajime warns as the videos start up. Sure enough, Ryuk can actually see the Thulean on his most recent feed, big as life and twice as ugly in his black scaly armor. All he can see on the left is Tamana running and leaping and …

No! Ryuk turns his head away at the very last moment. No sense in seeing her do that again.

“Now observe what happened just now from my perspective.” Hajime’s feed comes up. In the feed, Ryuk screams and scrabbles for no reason. Hajime surveys the whole room too fast to follow, moves behind Ryuk and pulls him into his arms.

Ryuk drops his face into his hand, suddenly confused and overwhelmed by what he’s experienced over the last thirty minutes. “What just happened?”

“I think something just hacked your iNet feed, and apparently this very same something also hacked Tamana’s feed,” Hajime concludes. “Based on the message you received and your feed, whatever she saw chasing her at the time of her death was real to her but to no one else. She leapt to avoid it; I don’t think she intended to kill herself.”

“What about my feed?”

“This appears to affect only the individual who experiences the digital hallucination, and is apparently quite subjectively real. I’ve collated some data about apparent Proxima dreamworld intrusions in the real world environment that caused lethal results.”

A chart springs to life on the holoscreen, its main line ticking upwards.

“This chart shows the number of dreamworld users who have experienced an unexpected or unusual death within seventy-five minutes of logging out, beginning in 2070. As you can see, the chart spikes from no reported cases in 2070 to fifty-six deaths in just the first two months of this year.”

Magazine and iNet articles flash on the screen in various languages with Japanese subtitles.

“The mainstream outlets are not carrying these stories,” Hajime points out, “most of these come from Proxima fan sites and Proxi-blogs. Based on what you have just experienced and what happened to Tamana, statistical probability indicates that something, likely NPCs, is coming through the digital dreamworlds and manifesting itself through the users’ iNet feeds. This is causing people to do horrible things to themselves and those around them.”

Ryuk shakes his head. “Are you telling me that there are killer NPCs?”

“No, you are saying that, but something is happening, and it’s manifesting from the Proxima Galaxy, from the online worlds that players around the world dive to, like the world you and Tamana frequent, Tritania.”

Ryuk buries his head in his hand. “Tamana,” he whispers. Just the sound of her name makes him want to sob again.

“She’s not dead,” Hajime says.

“What?”

“You of all people should know what I mean.”

Ryuk’s eyes go wide. “Her … her RPC!”

Hajime places his hands behind his back. “Yes, her Reborn Player Character, set to spawn in the Proxima Galaxy in the world of her choosing once she dies in the real world. I’m surprised you didn’t think of that already.”

“I just saw her die!” Ryuk cries out. “I was … ” He gets control of himself and remembers that Hajime is homo machina, very different from Ryuk.

“Do you think the online world of her choosing is Tritania?”

“Of course it is,” Ryuk says, “we haven’t been to another world in years. That’s definitely where her RPC would go.”

“Reborn Player Character,” Hajime muses, “the same thing as an AI generated NPC but with all the former users data.” The humandroid nods towards Ryuk’s NV Visor. “You should log in. I never thought I’d find myself saying this, but that may be the best thing you can do at this point.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he finally says. The more Ryuk thinks of it, the better it sounds. He can see Tamana in Tritania, be with Tamana, and together, they can uncover why NPCs are taking peoples bodies.

“You took new avatars, didn’t you?” Hajime asks.

Ryuk’s eyes dart to his dive rig. “Yes,” he says hurriedly. “It was her idea and I went along with it. We’re resetters now.”

“I remember you saying that your former guild was quite powerful,” Hajime adds. “Maybe they would be interested in what has happened here today.”

Ryuk shakes his head bitterly. “I, we can’t contact them. Like I said, we’re resetters now. Our guild – well, former guild now – has a ‘no communication clause’ with resetters to deny them any in-game advantages. Sounds stupid, but our previous guild’s leader doesn’t want someone to be able to call on their powerful friends.”

“Then go to their guild physically,” Hajime says. “I’m sure they’ll want to hear this.”

“Their guild is on Polynya, the second floating continent of Tritania. All new players, and resetters like Tamana and me, start on the first floating continent, Hyperborea. We can’t travel there yet.”

Hajime considers this for a moment. “Okay. Log in, meet Tamana’s Reborn Player Character, hash out what’s happened here with her, and go to Polynya and contact your former guild.”

A pained expression paints across Ryuk’s face. He swears he’s explained the basics of Tritania before, and besides, now of all times, is not the time. He gives Hajime the quickest explanation about the world’s mechanics that he can muster. “Okay, Tritania has three floating continents. All players start on Hyperborea and to go to the next continent, Polynya, we need to be at level 15. To go to the final continent, Ultima Thule, we need to be at level 35. Three continents with level requirements to get to the final two continents.”

“And your levels now?”

Ryuk shakes his head. “Two. We’re both at level two.”

“Then log in,” Hajime nods towards Ryuk’s rig. “Start your journey. You have a little time before you have to meet your brother later.”

Ryuk cringes. His brother, the bane of his existence. Meeting him will only make the day worse and he can’t say no.

“Consider this the ultimate quest,” Hajime offers. “Find Tamana, figure out what happened, grieve, level up, get to the next continent to meet your old guild, and stop this from ever happening here in the real world again.”

Ryuk nods wipes his nose one more time. The ultimate quest.

His chest swells and he gets out of bed. He plants his ass in the custom molded seat of his haptic chair, slips his hands into a pair of haptic gloves with the ease of long practice and leans back. The chair comes to life after he’s placed the sleek, gunmetal NV Visor over his head.

A familiar tone plays, letting Ryuk know that the system is starting up and the physical response system is ready to go.

Wavelengths appear on the inside of his NV Visor.

Chapter 4: Goblin security and why you’re better off without it

It was Tamana’s idea. “It’ll be fun,” were her exact words.

Start over in new classes and abandon the level 96 Ninja Warrior and White Mystic avatars that they had developed for nearly two years. Ryuk did it to impress her, to go along with her request. Just like that, they reset and Ryuk became a lowly level 2 Ballistics Mage. All their accumulated wealth and stats gone, the two signed a lease on shitty guildhall in the village of Jatla, near the Goblin Riviera.

In Thulean, ‘Jatla’ is a convenient term for any horribly filthy, vile, disgusting, feculent slum that is too wet and dirty for rats, flies, or roaches. The locals, a scabby, scaly, sub-race of flatulent, fungally-afflicted hillbilly ünter-trolls, are notorious for their brutal savagery and abysmal table manners.

Nighttime is when Jatla really comes to life.

Pernicious public intoxication, random assault, kidnapping for fun and profit, lynching bees, and unusually violent high stakes gambling games and tournaments such as Thulean Roulette, Kinbaku Master/Slave, Ponygirl races, the always popular ‘Bet Your Penis’ and Coprophilia Krunch, are always on display.

The city is also home to the perky glittering poo pixies, locally known as stinkerbells, who flit about from garbage heap to open pit latrine as they rummage around in noisome mounds of offal for magic treasure and rare metals.

“I hate it here.” Ryuk says as his gaze steadies on their guildhall. He checks his stats and then swipes them away.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 2 Ballistics Mage

HP: 115/115

ATK: 40

DEF: 5

MATK: 51

MDF: 18

LUCK: 3

They are shit, utter shit, but that’s what happens when you become a resetter.

How Tritania’s AI knows that force-spawning him outside of the guildhall rather than inside, where he normally spawns, would create more tension for Ryuk is beyond him.

Regardless, what matters most is seeing Tamana and her RPC is surely inside.

Most players, including Ryuk, have a Reborn Player Character set to spawn if they die in the real world, and someone who’s made the RPC conversion can access all of their life history, up to and including the actual moment of dissolution.

Deep breath in and Ryuk kicks the door open with the force of a Schwarzenator. The door creaks open and he’s greeted by a thoroughly vandalized interior and … no Tamana.

He feels a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.

In the center of the mess is their short goblin guard, Hiccup, who came with the rented guildspace.

“What the hell happened here?” Ryuk wonders as he skirts a table with all the legs broken off. A pool of mephitic indeterminate black gunk surrounds the goblin, and Ryuk strives mightily not to step in it.

He raises an eyebrow. Pinned to Hiccup’s belly with a spork is a note that reads:

We have taken Tamana hostage.

-Shinigami

“Shinigami?” He reads the note again as if it will say something different the second time. Tamana’s avatar has been taken, recently, and she was harried to her death, also recently. He instant messages her.

Ryuk: I’m at the guildhall. What happened? Where are you?

Ryuk: Please answer. Where are you?

Her instant messaging is down? He paces for a moment, wrought with worry. The only thing that can block instant messaging is an algospell ...

Hiccup moans and he ignores him.

Ryuk gets the urge to sob again. Not here, he reminds himself, do something.

“Arrrgghh … ”

“Quit pretending to be dead,” Ryuk snaps at the goblin. “You still have a few HP left. How many were there?”

The goblin moans, winces, lets one rip, and curses. He runs his hand over his eyes and rubs the sides of his bald head. “Those … those mitherfickers!”

“How many were there?” Ryuk none-too-gently nudges him with his foot. “Quick, tell me.”

“Five,” Hiccup groans, “maybe seven, or it might have been only five. Yes, it was five. No, seven. Enough to kick my ass and stick me with a spork, that’s how many! Can you believe that?” The goblin props himself up on an elbow. “And you. Are you going to just leave the spork sticking out of my tum-tum?”

“I thought taking it out would completely deplete your life bar, and I need answers. Did the kidnappers say anything about where they were taking her? I need to know now, dammit. This is a big fucking deal. Tamana – ” He swallows hard, bites his lip.

Hiccup places his hands around the spork’s grip and yanks it out. “Yoooooy!” The goblin bangs his fist against the ground. “Yoy! Yoy! Yoy! Dragon ficks!” He tosses the eating utensil aside.

“Are you done yet?”

“You don’t even have the common decency to offer me a healing potion? I know you’re holding out; all new avatars come with three.”

“I’m saving those,” Ryuk reminds the cantankerous goblin. “We’re low on funds, remember? I don’t want to go around trying to get healing potions in a shithole like Jatla, especially, at a time like now!”

The stocky goblin quivers his lip at the wound on his belly and looks up at Ryuk with big, moist puppy dog eyes.

Damn goblins. Ryuk grinds his teeth for a moment and fails to relax. “Fine, fine. If I give you a healing potion, will you tell me what they said?”

Hiccup gives him the thumbs up. “Now we’re talking! How about this: you give me two healing potions, you know, just to top me off, and I not only tell you what Tammy’s kidnappers said, I’ll fickin’ take you to the exchange place.”

Exchange place?

A quest box forms in front of Ryuk:

Quest: Will you give Hiccup two healing potions and allow him to accompany you?

Rewards: Possible level-ups and the other benefits associated with companionship.

Risks: Typical risks associated with goblin companionship included but not limited to general mayhem, thievery, asshattery and back stabbery.

(0)__(0)

“Glad we could make this arrangement.” Hiccup licks his fat lips. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

“Info first.”

“For crying out loud, Ryuk, I’m dying here! Give me the potion so I can at least get my swagger back!” He snorts and wipes more blood onto his pant leg.

Since when did you have swagger? Ryuk bottles the question, knowing all too well the futility of arguing with a goblin. Two small glass bottles filled with red liquid materialize and he hands them over to Hiccup, who greedily chugs them both at the same time.

“Hell yes,” the goblin says as the wound on his stomach heals up. Even the hole in his shirt repairs itself.

“Info, now.” Ryuk says.

Hiccup sticks his scabrous tongue out and savors the last few drops of potion. “Aramis, two days from now at the Hour of the Rabbit. That’s all I know, I swear. One of them whispered it in my ear.”

“And you said there were five kidnappers?”

“I said there were seven. Possibly only six.” Hiccup looks at the letter that was originally sticking out of his belly. “Shinigami. That’s their guild name. I don’t know how many there were. I didn’t really see them because they blindfolded me. Maybe there were four.”

“Three on six … ” Ryuk turns a chair around and sits.

“A bit of advice from a hundred and fifty-four-year-old goblin with a penchant for being right and a track record to match it – they’ll probably just return Tammy once they realize that you’re so broke you can’t even pay attention.”

Ryuk clenches his fists. “It’s Tamana, not Tammy.

Hiccup shrugs.

“Did they say something about a ransom?”

The goblin thinks for a moment. “Not that I can recall. Listen, Ryuk, relax a little. I’m sure they’ll return her at some point. Those kind of fickboys always do.”

He glares daggers the goblin. “For your information, Tamana died in the world up there, and I watched it happen. And just after that, a Thulean warrior attacked me in my own bedroom. Crazy things are happening. From what I can tell so far, NPCs have somehow infected our iNet feeds.”

Hiccup yawns and jams his finger inside his ear. He scratches, examines, and flicks something on the ground. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ryuk huffs, “Never mind, you wouldn’t understand. The point is, I need to talk to her and together, we need to get to the bottom of this. I need to find Tamana’s RPC; she’ll know what to do next, she always does.”

Hiccup burps and pounds his fist against his chest. “Sorry. Damn healing potions always give me heartburn, and quickly too, let me tell you. Where was I? Oh yeah – so that’s why Tamana spawned with an RPC icon over her head! I was wondering what that was about, but to be brutastically honest with you kid, I was in the middle of a gob-nap so I figured I was dreaming or something.”

Ryuk nearly stomps his feet. “Are you telling me that the Shinigami were able to kidnap Tamana because you were sleeping?”

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was gob-napping,” Hiccup explains. “Parsing, I know, but the point remains: the dumbficks snuck in while I was all snoozled up and I woke up just in time to get sporked in the belly while one of them told me about the exchange place in Aramis.”

Ryuk takes a deep breath.

As a level 96, he could have found Tamana’s kidnappers, and fast – presuming they survived their initial encounter with Tamana, whose algospells could rend the very fabric of Tritania. He exhales and asks, “Did you at least catch their levels? Tell me you at least saw their levels.”

“How was I supposed to do that? They stabbed me while I was sleeping!” Hiccup shakes his head. “They’re some real fickholes if you ask me. Did I tell you about their weapons?”

“No.”

“They’re better than yours.”

“Of course they’re better than mine. I have a fucking slingshot.” Ryuk thinks for a moment. “Well, we need to level-up, regardless. If we plan to get Tamana back, you and I need to be at higher levels.”

“That’s all you,” Hiccup yawns again, “I’m happy with my current level so I’ll just be hanging here until you get back, then I’ll take you to Aramis. We cool?”

Hiccup’s stats appear before Ryuk:

Hiccup Level 8 Shield Thief

HP: 290/290

ATK: 64

DEF: 61

MATK: 11

MDF: 47

LUCK: 8

At level 8, Hiccup is still a handful of levels away from being even remotely useful. The Shinigami could be at any level, but were for sure higher than level 2 and level 8.

“Baka,” Ryuk mumbles under his breath.

“Look kid, you and Tamana are resetters, right? Why don’t you just ask your old guildmates to do you a solid? Then you and I pop some fickin’ Kayian popcorn, steal a twelve pack of Horse Piss Ale, call a few choice goblinette entertainers, and let your old guild handle this. What was your old guild’s name, again?”

“The Knights of Non Compos Mentis, and as guild policy, they don’t support resetters.”

His bushy eyebrows lift. “I forgot that you were one of the Knights! Must be early onset Goblinheimer’s. It’s fickin’ terrible, terrible to joke about too. But back to the Knights – is Sophia still running the show?”

“From behind the scenes, yes.”

“And then you decided to do the stupidest thing you’ve done all your life – reset and start your own guild.”

“That was Tamana’s idea.”

“And speaking of your guild, we still don’t have a name, something that also needs to be addressed.”

Ryuk stares bitterly at Hiccup. It’s not the goblin’s fault. He’s an NPC, he doesn’t quite understand what Ryuk just experienced. “We’ll get a name later,” Ryuk finally says, “when the time is right.”

“I’ve suggested ‘The Mitherfickers’ twice now. Just sayin’.”

Ryuk takes a deep breath that does little to calm him.

Tritanian goblins tended to be unimaginative and repetitive in their choice of lexical items, and overwhelmingly prefer one particular vulgarity for use as a noun, pronoun, adjective, verb, adverb, preposition, and interjection.

Tritania’s most powerful Mind Mage grew weary of such grammatical constructs as, ‘fuck me, you fucking fuckwit, let’s go fucking fuck up those fucking fuckers right the fuck now,’ and cast an unbreakable algospell that prevents every goblin in Tritania from ever enunciating the word ‘fuck.’

The goblins were not fickin’ amused.

Ryuk sighs. “The Mitherfickers isn’t quite what we’re going for.”

“Sounds like some goblin discrimination if you ask me. Anyfickin’hoo, it looks like you’ll need to recruit a new couple of wankers to help you in your quest to get Tamana back. Now leveling up, that’s not really my cup of tea, but recruitment,” he shoots Ryuk a smug grin, “now we’re in my department. What kind of recruits do you want, anyway? NPCs, immiNPCs, RPCs, PCs, orc chippies – your wish is my command, el capitan.”

Ryuk paces back and forth for a moment. “Sure, recruit as many as you’d like, but I have final say, and we will all level up together. Got it?”

The goblin steps over to him. He’s more than a half a meter shorter than Ryuk, much wider too. “Well if leveling is a requirement, I’d like an additional bonus for my services then.”

The shakedown. This is to be expected anytime one deals with a goblin.

“Come again?”

Hiccup uses his grubby little nose-pickers to crack his neck. “There, that’s better. Here’s what I’m thinking: I get a percentage of the value of any treasure we take during this quest. How about twenty percent of the loot?”

Ryuk shakes his head. “Two percent.”

“Okay then, three percent, gross.”

“Fine, three percent, net. You get three percent net of whatever we get. Deal?”

“Deal!” Hiccup approaches him with an outstretched hand. “I promise it’s clean.”

Ryuk gives him a funny look before shaking his grimy hand.

“I’ll be back soon. Round up anyone you can and we’ll vet them together. I’ll try to find someone too.” He turns to the door. “And remember, I have final say. You don’t have to go for the cream at the top, but try to avoid scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

(0)__(x)

The village of Jatla’s unmistakable funk smacks Ryuk right in the digital sniffer.

The stomach-churning, retch-inducing civic effluvia is the perfect counterpoint for the pair of male goblins who patronize a public urinal in the most liberal and non-exclusionary manner imaginable. They splatter caustic ammoniated goblin lemonade everywhere and leave their toxic outflow for someone else to clean up.

Which never happens. Ever.

Why they even have these things when the goblins just piss anywhere is beyond Ryuk, and offends his ingrained, Japanese love of cleanliness and order. He’ll never get used to the mess that is Jatla.

He pulls up his hood as he sidles past the two goblins, who grunt and cackle loudly as they cross streams and compare sizes.

At his low level and without companionship or any skills, Ryuk knows better than to venture too far from his guildhall. That said, he and Tamana did make a few exploratory trips around the block just to see if there were any good shops – there weren’t – but they did discover a public bulletin board with postings from other noobs looking to guild up.

It’s as good a place as any to start, that’s for sure. Besides, there’s no telling what kind of riffraff Hiccup will bring back to the guildhall.

Ryuk rounds the corner and scans for the bulletin board.

To his left, across the cobblestone street, is an Empress Thun gift and souvenir boutique. Stinkerbells flit in and out of the broken windows and rummage through the heaps and mounds of trash piled around the establishment.

Business does not appear to be booming.

To his right is a fishmonger’s shop featuring dried fish from the Endless Sea. These fish are difficult and expensive to obtain, as the flying fishing smacks must descend from the continental shelf to harvest them.

Pressed against the fishmonger’s is a non-descript Dr. Dandy Dave’s Apothecary with heavily barred windows and a pair of massive, beastly, heavily armed and armored orcs loitering nonchalantly outside.

A scrum of scruffy, jittery, twitching PCs, NPCs and RPCs anxiously await entry and surge forward as the solidly reinforced door swings outward. The orcs lay into the crowd with the flat of their swords to drive them back as an equally scruffy, jittery, twitching NPC zips out and nervously skirts those waiting to get in.

“Only one of yaz goes in. ONE! YOU!” The wider of the two Orcs bellows, and the would-be patron he’s pointed out slinks into the shop.

Ryuk sighs and shakes his head at yet more wizardous addicts. Damn fiends.

The guard orcs are clad in Thulean armor and dragon helms, which are most uncommon on the continent of Hyperborea. Their carriage and demeanor reminds Ryuk of the muscle that secures the lobby of his apartment building back in the real world, and the Thulean armor is similar to the armor worn by the Thulean NPC that attacked him in his bedroom.

He shudders at the thought of it happening again.

In a welter of flying feet, fists, knees, and elbows, a pair of half-sized goblins roll out of the doorway just in front of him. The larger of the two beats his opponent to the ground and goes to put the boot in just as a third pops out of the doorway and delivers a penalty kick right to Mr. Big’s goolies.

Number one bounces up off the ground and sinks his teeth in the goal-kicker’s neck while Mr. Big clutches his tender nether region, rolls on the ground and noisily and abundantly soils his ragged knee breeches.

Damn goblins. Ryuk sees the bulletin board not too far ahead just as a goblin woman uncorks a blood-curdling shriek.

A Mutt and Jeff team of sinewy goblin nogoodniks have a granny goblin backed up against the wall, a slim dagger dimpling her throat. The little goblin footpad tears at her bodice and exposes her flabby, saggy bazongas as he roots around for any hidden valuables.

Goblin Thief Level 1

HP: 65/65

ATK: 11

MATK: 1

DEF: 3

MDF: 4

LUCK: 2

Goblin Thief Level 2

HP: 79/79

ATK: 14

MATK: 0

DEF: 4

MDF: 3

LUCK: 1

Ryuk springs into action. He reaches into one of two pockets on his belt for a clear marble, loads it into his slingshot, draws and looses at the little guy.

The clear marble strikes and the goblin lights up from within by a tremendous bolt of electricity. He spasms, crackles, pops and collapses in a sizzling puddle of his own goblin grease.

Instakill!

The second goblin lunges at Ryuk pointy end first. “Fickin’ bring it, you ficktard!” he snarls as Ryuk fumbles for another marble.

Ryuk ducks the first attack and dances out of the way of the backhand riposte. This is the one good thing that has come from being a resetter – he’s kept some of his fancy ninja legwork. He gets a marble out, gets the slingshot up, and avoids the goblin’s third slashing attack.

At ‘can’t miss’ distance, the black marble blasts into the goblin’s chest, explodes, and takes him off his feet.

-15 HP!

Ryuk launches another black marble into the goblin’s head and blasts it into bloody vapor.

-19 HP!

The headless goblin spasms and dies.

Ryuk collects a few experience points from the goblin, but not a single rupee. Goblin muggers usually don’t have much unless they’ve just robbed someone.

“Thank you, thank-you kind sir!” The nana goblin approaches Ryuk and bats her eyes at him. “I almost forgot!”

“It’s fine,” he starts to say.

The granny goblin unselfconsciously stuffs her dairy pillows back into her bodice as best she can. She cocks an eyebrow at him as she reaches under her apron and purrs, “Let me reward you for saving me from those two dreadful beasts. They were absolutely awful!”

“Um … ”

He doesn’t see the oversized kukri she slams up under his ribcage, but he most definitely feels it when she jerks the blade up and out and cuts his ribs away from his sternum.

-75 HP!

“Fuck!” he cries as he falls to his knees, his vision pane flashing.

“Let’s see what you have for your old Mimi then,” she chortles as she rummages through the pouch of his belt. “Ooh! I’ll be having that.”

The goblin wench takes his last healing potion out of the pouch and tucks it in the front of her blouse. She picks up the first goblin’s dagger, tests its edge and balance, pulls Ryuk’s head back and cuts his throat.

Damn goblins!

Chapter 5: Paradise of the Insane

Tritania’s AI apparently has it in for him.

Ryuk spawns outside his guildhall again. He swipes his stats away – no need to remind himself of how far down the totem pole he is or how badly he just had his ass whooped.

Betrayed by a goblin; a filthy, nasty, ungrateful, front-stabbing goblin granny.

There’s fresh graffiti on the door, but the muffled rattle-bang-clank coming from inside catches his attention.

He takes his magic slingshot from his belt. With a black magic marble in the slingshot’s pouch, he half-draws, takes a deep breath in and kicks the door open like a SWAT team at a crack house.

With a bellowed war-cry, Ryuk leaps in with slingshot fully drawn.

Hiccup screams like a sissy, emits a blast from south of the border, and nearly propels himself out of his chair. “What the fick was that all about, Marbles?”

Ryuk bristles at the nickname Hiccup has chosen for him. The goblin has done no tidying up, neatening, straightening, cleaning, or repairing of any description aside from stacking some of the debris in the middle of the floor and balancing the broken table top on it.

A suave-looking, expensively accoutered Player Character sits across from Hiccup in the only other unbroken chair in the place. He runs his hand over his slicked-back blond hair and his stats appear before Ryuk can lower his slingshot:

FeeTwix Fajer Level 8 Berserker Mystic

HP: 231/231

ATK: 56

MATK: 24

DEF: 39

MDF: 27

LUCK: 11

His arctic blue eyes change to solid black as he stands and extends his hand. The PC sports a pair of stylishly frayed fingerless phorusrhacid skin gloves, which is one way to show that you’re balls-deep in rupees.

In a digital world, anyone can customize anything, and Tritanian fashionistas have turned to adjusting the minutest details of a player’s outfit. Nothing is safe from this world’s high-end fashion designers.

The fact that this level 8 Berserker Mystic has custom fray on his fingerless gloves, a bejeweled and damascened clamshell armor, and a hand-embroidered overcoat made from Attla spider silk featuring artistically tattered cargo pockets immediately turns Ryuk off.

“Felix Arvid Fajer, from Sweden,” the guy says, “but you can call me FeeTwix.”

Ryuk eases the tension on his slingshot, lowers his arms and his weapon disappears.

FeeTwix grins. “Magic Slingshot, huh? Hold tight real quick so my viewers can get a good look at you.”

“Your viewers?”

Ryuk turns to Hiccup, narrows his eyes and glares.

“What the fick are you looking at me like that for?” the goblin huffs. “Fickin’ FeeTwix here is the best of a very bad lot.”

“Seriously? Kuso!”

Hiccup throws his hands up in the air. “It’s not like the high rank players are fickin’ falling all over themselves to join up with some gangly, slingshot-toting level 2 resetter, now are they? Slim pickins, Marbles, let me tell you. There were some level-nothing noobies with their poncy Bryanboy fan-fic outfits and plucked fickin’ eyebrows, and one over-brawned, under-brained steroid monster of a hobgoblin cranked out the wazoo on wizardous. And this guy.” He cocks a thumb at the Swede.

“Wizardous?” asks FeeTwix.

Hiccup snorts, “What? Haven’t heard of wizardous? This fickwad of an immiNPC from some other Proxima World introduced that shit to Tritania like fifteen years ago. Goes by the name of Dirty Dave ... ”

The goblin’s face goes blank as he trails off. “Where was I?”

“You were talking about recruiting,” Ryuk grumbles.

“Oh yeah – this big muscly fick-boy of a hobgoblin I was telling you about was all for joining us, but first he wanted me to stick a satchel of wizardous up his fickin’ bunghole so he could smuggle it to Polynya on one of those fancy-schmancy airships. And you wouldn’t believe how he wanted me to do it, neither! So when this fickin’ backdoor bandit turned, I cut his fickin’ head off and sold the wizardous to one of the poncies in the Bryanboy outfit.”

Hiccup lifts the hobgoblin’s head from the floor by its elaborately braided topknot, sets it on the table and turns it so Ryuk can fully appreciate its expression of extreme surprise. “I should be able to score some rupees for it, too – I know a guy who turns these into novelty beer steins.”

“Ha!” The Swede claps his hands together. “This is great! He’s polling quite positively with my fans right now. Check for yourself.”

Ryuk swipes the chart away, still not sure of what FeeTwix means by his fans. “Hiccup, I really don’t want to deal with your shit right now. Get that head out of here, now. And don’t let it drip on the floor!”

Hiccup rolls his eyes, stands, and uncorks a trouser-fluttering blast in Ryuk’s general direction. He sighs again, grabs the severed hobgoblin head by its convenient grab handle, slings it over his shoulder and heads out the door.

“Okay, explain to me why you want to join our guild.” Ryuk moves to Hiccup’s chair, eyes the fresh skid mark and elects to remain standing.

“Glad to.” FeeTwix turns his chair around and straddles it cool-teacher style. He grins, and Ryuk notices that FeeTwix’s eyes are blue again. “Here’s the short version, but first, I need to ask – do you really not know who I am?”

“Should I?”

FeeTwix clears his throat. “Most Proxima heads have at least heard of my TwitchTube Red channel. No, I’m not as popular as #RocketRocket, but I’m often in the top twenty when it comes to viewers.” He points at his eyes as they turn black.

“Your viewers are watching now?”

“Of course they are! Approximately 353,339 people are livestreaming this.”

The door slams shut. Hiccup reenters the guild and heads straight to the ripped and stained chaise that’s missing all four of its legs. He plops down onto it, kicks his feet up, and accesses a scrollazine entitled Hot Wet Goblin Holes.

“No livestreaming,” Ryuk says, “for the moment at least.”

“Fine, fine. Sorry guys, you heard the man. Keep playing one of the games on my feed during the down time – remember, one lucky winner gets a free three-year TwitchTube Red subscription as well as a ton of schwag personally autographed by me! Also, earn extra points by viewing my earlier feeds. Check out my latest feed from Steam for double pointage!”

FeeTwix finger waves goodbye to his own face and his eyes revert to their normal icy blue. “Sorry, my fans get pissed whenever I have to turn off the stream, and I have to keep them entertained.”

Ryuk nods. “I see.”

“Where were we? Ah yes, my backstory. Tritania’s becoming popular again, and it’s a thus-far highly underserved advertising market. My sponsors pay me for every single person who streams my feed or views my archives, so I’m partly here for the ad cash. I chose Berserker Mystic as my main class so that I can play the game the way it should be played, the way my hero and role model – the man, the myth, the Legendary Quantum Hughes – would play it. Ever heard of him?”

“I was a guild member of the Knights of Non Compos Mentis up until a week or so ago.”

FeeTwix gives him a confused look. “That’s nice for you, but so what? Who’re they?”

Ryuk sighs and rubs his forehead. “Never mind. Yes, I’ve heard of Quantum Hughes. He’s one of the founders of my former guild.”

FeeTwix leans back in his chair. “Good, so then you know how I mean to play – anything goes – and I’ll equip just about anything as long as I can avoid a ton of damage from in-game penalties.”

While outside weapons are frowned upon in Tritania, it is totally legal to use them. Firearms are a different story – a player who uses outside firearms takes HP penalty.

Ryuk glances over to the map of Tritania that hangs in the center of the room. Three continents – Hyperborea, Polynya, Ultima Thule – all floating above the Endless Sea. They’ve got a long way to go, and he knows firsthand that it isn’t a walk in the Hamarikyu Gardens.

He turns back to FeeTwix. “If it’s advertising dollars you want, there are other guilds whose sole purpose is to generate ad revenue.”

“Your goblin–”

“I’m not anybody’s goblin, and I have a name!” Hiccup growls from his perch on the broken chaise.

“Hiccup explained to me what happened to your guildmate in the real world, and I’m sorry to hear that. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from a stranger, but I really am sorry to hear it. What a horrible way to die. I also find it very curious that her Reborn Player Character has been kidnapped by the Shinigami.” FeeTwix bites his lip and thinks for a moment. “That sounds real fishy, if you ask me.”

“Actually, it gets stranger.”

Ryuk quickly briefs him on his real-time attack by an NPC, what Hajime’s collated data seems to indicate, as well as the contents of Tamana’s final message.

“So she very obviously didn’t commit suicide.” FeeTwix purses his lips and nods. “Clearly she didn’t.”

“Exactly, I think she was trying to lead the creature in front of the train and misjudged her jump. And since the Shinigami took her as soon as she spawned here, they probably had something to do with it too.”

FeeTwix considers for a moment. “You will find that I am a different person when my feed is off. I’ll be frank with you: sure, solving this will give me ratings and it will also allow me to tap into a huge number of new fans and I’ll get new endorsement offers like crazy mad. So there’s that, but there’s also this … ” His flamboyance all but disappears; he leans in and lowers his voice. “About two months ago, a long-time fan of mine named Tomas committed suicide. He was one of the first ones to get the word out about my TwitchTube Red channel, so I owe him something. And just like your friend whatzername … ”

“Tamana.”

“I call her Tammy,” Hiccup barks.

“Yeah, Tamana, my fan’s RPC-spawned here and almost immediately disappeared – poof, gone. Something’s not right; something’s going on.” He places his hands on the table. “These are all connected, they have to be. Can’t prove it, but it sure feels like it. I’d like to get to the bottom of this and put a stop to it and get some payback for Tomas, for your friend, and for you. So what do you say? Are we doing this?”

A prompt appears:

FeeTwix Fajer would like to join your guild. Will you allow it?

Ryuk takes a few steps forward and bows his head. “Welcome to our guild.”

FeeTwix Fajer, Level 8 Berserker Mystic, has joined your guild!

“Do we have a guild name?” FeeTwix asks.

“The Mitherfickers.” Hiccup tosses his scrollazine over his shoulder. “I keep telling him how catchy it is.”

FeeTwix cracks a genuine grin.

“We need to start leveling up,” Ryuk tells them both. “We have two days to get stronger.”

(0)__(0)

“We got sort of a sausage party going here,” Hiccup informs Ryuk and FeeTwix after they’ve spawned in the Hills of Hillshire, “Just saying.”

A gray mist scattered with turquoise and lavender covers the lower portions of the hills. The place smells of brimstone and wet grass.

FeeTwix places his hands on his hips. “These, my friends, are the Hills of Hillshire.” He looks out over the hills so his followers can get a glimpse through his black eyes.

“Let’s just focus on finding a good place to level-up,” Ryuk tells them.

“Oooh, that looks fun!” The Swede points to the entry point of a mist-covered path on the hill closest to them.

“What are you going on about, Twixy?” Hiccup asks.

“There’s a hidden sign over there.” FeeTwix approaches the goblin. “Do you mind?” He makes a peace sign and crosses his two fingers together.

“What kind of ass fickery are you trying to pull here, mate?”

“I’ll show you.” FeeTwix lightly touches the goblin’s temple. “It’s about the only thing I’ve found useful with my mystic abilities.”

“Dragon ficks! There’s a sign and a whole lot more that way!” Hiccup’s face goes from excited to apprehensive. “Do you think there are ghosts over there?”

“I don’t see anything … ”

“Look now.” FeeTwix lightly touches Ryuk’s temples and sure enough, a sign appears on the opposing hillock. Carved into a wooden sign are the words: Paradise of the Insane.

FeeTwix takes his hand away and the sign disappears.

Ryuk is unsurprised by the invisible sign. When Tamana was still a White Mystic, she solved plenty of puzzles and found an abundance of hidden pathways and badass treasures with her mystical abilities.

“Let’s go there.”

Ryuk leaves little time for discussion.

He treks down the hill and is instantly waist-deep in mist. The ground is moist, and he can sense smaller creatures moving away from his footsteps. Nothing worth gaining experience over, unless he wanted to add critter hunting to his repertoire. Hiccup catches up to him, and short as he is, the mist covers everything but the top of his bald head.

Ryuk feels a leathery hand grab hold of his and squeeze tight.

“Don’t say anything about this,” Hiccup hisses up at him. “And remember, I’m not your little goblin fickboy, got that?” An owl lifts out of the mist. Wisps of fog barely have a chance to leave its body as it dips back in. “What the fick was that!?”

A mirror appears in FeeTwix’s hand and he holds it in front of his face. “My people. Just wanted to let everyone know that we’ve decided to check out the Paradise of the Insane. Pretty cool, huh? Remember, today’s sponsor is McStarbucks, and hey – great news! Cucumber Spice McWater is back for a limited time! Get a 50% off insta-coupon with purchase of any Frappe or Value Meal over eight euros at participating locations across the EU. Mention #FeeTwixRox for a free three-piece jumbo McNuggets with any one liter drink purchase. Offer not available in the UK. Sorry, Brexiteers! I’ll hook you up with something sweet next time!”

This guy and his feed … Ryuk is just about to ask him to put a can on his advertising spiel when the mist parts. A clear strip, a pathway in a labyrinth, cuts through the fog. Hiccup is beside himself.

“What the fick was that!? You fickholes can go by yourselves, I’m going back to Jatla.”

“No, no,” FeeTwix slings a comradely arm around Hiccup’s shoulders. “You have to come with us, pal, everyone loves you.”

“Who?”

“Everyone watching through my feed.” FeeTwix taps the side of his skull. “Currently, nearly 395,000 people are live-streaming our adventure.”

“Turn it off for a moment,” Ryuk says.

“Really?”

“Just a moment, please. I need to tell you something.”

“Sorry, folks, I’ll be streaming again in a moment!” FeeTwix says to himself. “And … we’re off.”

“How do I know again?” Ryuk asks.

“Look into my eyes.”

FeeTwix’s eyes flash Aryan blue. “When I’m streaming, they go solid black.”

“That’s what I figured, I just wanted to double-check.”

FeeTwix’s eyes flash solid black. “Hi everyone, be right back.” His eyes are blue again.

“Got it. Here’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Ryuk says carefully, “and I don’t want to offend you by doing so.”

“You are so Japanese!”

“You can tell?”

“Some of my fans did some research on your avatar origins,” FeeTwix explains, “they are useful like that. Their ability to research in real-time has saved my ass more times than you know.”

“That’s fine, but I don’t want you recording anything … emotional. Got that?”

“Ah, you are such a sweet little snowflake fickwit,” Hiccup laughs. “Oh boo-hoo! I don’t want anyone to see me cry, wah-wah-wah. Hey! Shit! Shit! What the hell is that!?” The goblin practically leaps into Ryuk’s arms. “Dragon ficks, did you guys hear that?  I think it’s a ghost!”

With a loud snort, two bulky creatures step out of the mist about twenty feet ahead of them. The stats of the creature closest to Ryuk appears:

Nian Level 1

HP: 39/39

ATK: 11

MATK: 15

DEF: 18

MDF: 22

LUCK: 1

Nian Level 2

HP: 51/51

ATK: 13

MATK: 15

DEF: 19

MDF: 22

LUCK: 1

“A pair of nians,” Hiccup says with wonder in his voice. “Why, I thought these things were extinct! Aha!” He pulls a double-bladed ax out of thin air, and a wooden shield materializes in his other hand. “Some backassward daughter-fickin’ farmer bred these two – my guess. They’re supposed to have the body of a bull and the head of a lion; these dainty little fickers have the body of a cow and the head of an alley cat – how tough can they be?”

The grouchy goblin smacks his ax against his shield. “All right, boys, who’s ready to christen the Mitherfickers as combat ready?”

(0)__(x)

The off-brand cat-cow lowers its head to meet Hiccup’s first attack, feints left and head butts the enthusiastic goblin into the air like a beanbag.

The goblin lands hard and lets out a loud oomph! The knock-off nian takes to the air and Ryuk lets one fly from his slingshot.

The black marble explodes on contact and knocks the nian into its compadre.

-10 HP!

“Chainsaw it is!” FeeTwix says to his unseen audience his eyes solid black. The weapon appears in his hand and he hits the thumb starter, locks the trigger, and the saw roars into life.

With a flashy overhand toss that Ryuk has to grudgingly admit looked cool, FeeTwix lands the saw bar-first in the nearest nian’s shoulder. The creature howls and claws at the source of its torment.

-13 HP! -2 HP!

The uninjured nian roars, gnashes its teeth and paws the ground at Ryuk and crew. It hesitates to attack on its own.

“I’ll finish the ficker off!” Hiccup runs towards the wounded nian, drops to the ground in a baseball slide and uses his shield as a boogie board with his feet kicked out in front of him.

-12 HP!

His attack connects and the nian dies. “Fick yeah!”

The surviving nian roars in outrage and leaps teeth-first at the distracted Hiccup.

Ryuk has another marble ready to go and zings it right down the cow-cat’s gullet. One muffled whumpf later and the critter’s neck is rags and tatters and its head flops to the side, even as it lands in a heap on top of Hiccup.

-39 HP! Instakill!

New skill learned!

“Get it off me!” Hiccup cries. FeeTwix helps him move the carcass off his body as Ryuk quickly reviews his new skill:

Skill: Tonsil Shot

Level One: 1 in 15 chance of connecting.

Damage: Damage: 20% damage if enemy is less than level 30; 10% damage if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 2%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 3

My first skill! Not bad. Twenty percent damage to any creature under level thirty and ten percent to any creature over level 30, and that’s at level one! As for the instakill, he did get lucky. With his LUCK at exactly three, his odds of landing the attack were astoundingly low.

“New skill?” FeeTwix asks.

“Tonsil Shot,” Ryuk says.

Hiccup wipes a piece of nian off the front of his shirt. “That thing could have killed me!”

Ryuk ignores the goblin as he goes over the spoils of battle. Not a lot of experience points and no rupees, but at least the EXP will compound.

The Hills of Hillshire will be fine for auto-leveling, he thinks.

Each avatar in Tritania can gain ten levels through auto-leveling, which allows a player to log out and keep their avatar fighting. A disadvantage is that a player won’t learn any new skills by auto-leveling, but they can improve upon skills already acquired.

“Shall we continue?” he asks as he passes Hiccup and FeeTwix. “I want to take part in one more fight and then leave my character to auto-level. I have something to do in Tokyo.”

“I wish I could auto-level,” Hiccup laments. “Go home, sleep, wake up a higher level.”

“I’ll stay logged in,” FeeTwix says as they continue along the path cut into the mist, “I’ve got nothing on the agenda for the next few hours.”

Hiccup calls after them. “You know, guys, I’m just saying, but it’s probably a good idea to send someone to Aramis to see what we can learn about the Shinigami. You know, leave you guys to the leveling.”

FeeTwix waits for Hiccup to catch up and pats him on the shoulder. “Nah, you’re staying here with us. After all, what would the Mitherfickers be without Hiccup?” He stares at the goblin for a moment with his big black eyes, live-streaming everything. “Besides, it’s more entertaining this way.”

(x)__(x)

As they make their way deeper into the Hills of Hillshire, a ghost town slowly emerges from the mist. Bad things have happened here; buildings are burned and blasted; skeletons in rusting armor clutch broken swords and battered shields; and the decomposing carcasses of eldritch war-beasts litter the side streets and alleyways.

“This fickin’ place gives me the willies,” Hiccup complains. “Let’s get the fick out of he – YOOOY!”

A buffalo-sized mountain of angry muscle smashes into him from behind and sends him cartwheeling. The beast skids to a stop, reverses direction in its own length and glares at them with red, piggy eyes. It’s a mahoosive Chiup hog with slavering jaws, razor-sharp tusks, and Thulean script branded into its hide.

Chiup Hog Level 3

HP: 169/169

ATK: 44

MATK: 1

DEF: 15

MDF: 14

LUCK: 0

Ryuk zings a pair of black marbles against the critter’s hairy hide. They explode and knock the dust off, but don’t do much more.

-2 HP!

Pathetic.

“Which weapon?” FeeTwix asks the fans livestreaming his feed. “Poll quickly!”

The results appear in front of him and he swipes them away.

“What, the Ma Bell treatment? Damn,” he grins, “you guys don’t make it easy for me!” The Swede stretches the cord between the handset and the phone body and charges at the Chiup Hog. He skips, flips, and lands astraddle the hog’s back, wraps the phone cord around its neck, and pulls his impromptu garrote tight.

The war pig is barely inconvenienced; it bucks, jumps, thrashes and tosses FeeTwix around like a rodeo clown in a hurricane. He hangs on tight as he yells for Ryuk to take his shot.

Black marble or clear marble? Ryuk loads a clear marble into the pouch of his slingshot. The bucking bronc-hog is more than stone’s throw distance, so a targeting reticle comes up on his viewing pane as he draws and looses.

“Holy fick!”

For once, Hiccup is right.

The clear marble morphs midair into an ethereal phoenix. The legendary bird cries out and flaps its wings to speed itself along. -38 HP! It smashes into the hog dead on, knocks it out from under FeeTwix and tumbles it into an abandoned outhouse.

The Chiup claws its way up out of the outhouse pit, and Ryuk pops off another pair of ineffectual black marbles. The shit-covered Chiup roars in disapproval and charges straight for Ryuk.

The unmistakable sound of gunfire makes Ryuk pause in mid reload. Great gouts of blood and tissue blast from the enraged Baconator as it hits the ground hard and slides to a stop at Ryuk’s feet.

Instakill!

“What the hell is that thing?” Ryuk asks after the dust has settled. He takes a step back from the dead hog, afraid that it may come back to life and take his leg off.

FeeTwix sports some crazy-looking amalgam of gun and sword; a wisp of smoke curls from the muzzle. “It’s called a slice bang.” He executes a raffish sword salute and then strikes a Captain Morgan pose. “I scored this in a Steampunk world. The barrel of the gun is right after the guard, alongside the blade. That way you can shoot and stab, or slice and bang, at the same time. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Aside from the fact that you’ve taken a health bar penalty from using an outside weapon, it isn’t bad.”

“It was worth it,” FeeTwix says, “and my fans seem to agree.”

“Fickin’ groupies again? Is this all we’re ever going to hear about?” Hiccup limps over to the Chiup hog. Experience points appear in the air and are divvied up amongst the three. “Wait a fickin’ minute … ” A vicious-looking gut hook appears in the goblin’s grubby paw and he uses it to neatly slice the hog open from vent to sternum. He rummages around inside, makes one or two delicate cuts and extracts a small vial made of green glass. “Aha!”

Having a Shield Thief in the party isn’t so bad after all, Ryuk thinks.

While he has never partnered with someone whose main class was Shield with a subclass of thief, he is very familiar with the thief subclass, as he almost chose it less than a day ago. A thief isn’t as strong as other characters, but they are good at detecting rare and valuable items in places one wouldn’t expect.

“Don’t say I never did nothing for ya, Marbles.” The goblin tosses the small, sticky vial to Ryuk.

“What is it?” FeeTwix peers over Ryuk’s shoulder as he pops the top off the vial. Inside is a note scribbled on a scrap of parchment that reads: ‘To my grandson, I leave my dream armor. It won’t be easy to find, but if you’re as brave and strong as your grandfather, you’ll discover it in an abandoned cellar in the Hills of Hillshire.’

Quest: Will you be as brave and as strong as the old hag’s husband?

Rewards: Dream armor.

Risks: You’ll end up in the belly of a Chiup hog.

Without consulting the other two, Ryuk accepts the challenge and then reads the message aloud.

“Ha! I guess the little ficktwerp wasn’t as brave and as strong as his grandfather,” Hiccup says, “But I do like a challenge, especially when it involves treasure.”

Ryuk hands him the slip of parchment. “Good, this will keep you busy. I’m going to log out now and leave my avatar with you guys to level up. I’ll be back as soon as humanly possible. Please,” he turns to FeeTwix, “keep me alive.”

“No problem. Say goodbye to everyone.” FeeTwix points to his eyes. “Where are you going anyway?”

“To see my older brother.”

Chapter 6: Brotherly love

Dim red lights give the place an otherworldly feel.

Everything is a shade of maroon, from the long leather sofas to the black tables, lit by a single tea candle floating in blood-red liquid. The column that runs in the center of the room decorated with tiny square mirror tiles casts reflections onto the flashy outfit of the gaijin hostess, who sits before Kodai and anxiously pours him his second glass of whiskey. The malt whiskey from Nikka is made exclusively for his club, produced by the single barrel, and ordered a bottle at a time due to the astronomical price.

It is the only spirit he drinks.

Everything is going to plan, Kodai reminds himself, and it is a glorious plan indeed.

“What are you thinking about?’ Sarah asks.

“Your Japanese. It has improved,” Kodai tells the Australian woman, Sarah, whom customers call Seera. The young mob boss tosses his oshibori on the table. It is the second hot towel he has cleaned his hands with in the last thirty minutes, and if he has to wait any longer for Ryuk, there will be a third.

Sarah carefully finishes pouring his drink and returns her hands to her lap. “Arigato gozaimasu,” she says with a full bow of her head.

“You should be more relaxed around me,” he tells her coldly, “I am your employer, after all.”

“I understand.” Sarah scoots closer to Kodai.

“You are not really my type,” he states in perfect idiomatic American English. “When I lived in New York, girls like you were a dime a dozen.”

She bats her eyelashes at him. “Americans still use coins?”

Kodai remembers now why he told the manager to hire her. Sarah was witty, and for the crown prince of a fairly large criminal empire, wit was something he didn’t often encounter. Still, it irked him when she spoke out of line.

“Is something wrong, Kodai-san?”

He sips his whiskey and enjoys the way it warms the back of his throat. Finally, he asks, “How have the other girls been? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Her eyes dart left and right. “No, Kodai, of course not.”

He switches back to English. “If you ever see anything or hear anything, I expect you to tell me. This is one of ten hostess bars that my father owned; it is the most successful and I plan to keep it that way. It’s also close to my home.”

“You got it.”

“Good.” He looks at her fondly and she offers him a rare smile. “Sarah, have you gained weight?”

Her smile falters. “Not that I know of.”

“I think you’ve gained at least half a kilo since the last time I saw you.” He pinches at her waist. There is nothing really to pinch; she squirms and he pinches her even harder.

“Please, Kodai.” She tries to keep what’s left of the smile on her face. “Please.”

“You should be more careful,” Kodai grits.

A bell rings and the women at the other tables stand. Only then does Kodai let go. Sarah slides her ass out of the booth as quickly as she can manage. She adjusts her turquoise bra, smooths her hand over the pink pinch mark, and bows to him yet again.

“Look better next time,” he tells her. Sarah apologizes and moves to the next table. Hitomi, a nineteen-year-old Japanese woman approaches his table.

“Hello, Kodai-san,” she says with a long, drawn-out bow to cover her hesitation. “Your brother is here.”

“It’s about time,” he says in English. Kodai takes another sip from his whiskey and savors the smoky taste. “Send him over.”

(0)__(0)

“Kodai.” Ryuk silently inhales through his nostrils as he chokes down the first rising tendrils of anxiety. Realizing he’s still in his hood, he quickly throws it off his head and returns his hands to his front pockets.

“Are you going to sit?” Kodai eyes his brother with suspicion.

“Yes … sure.”

“Well then do it, idiot.”

Hitomi the hostess bows again and silently backs away from the table.

“Where’s Hajime?”

“He’s outside out of sight, as you instructed.”

“Good. Droids give people the wrong impression of this place.” Kodai takes a sip from his whiskey and says, “We don’t want that to happen.”

Ryuk seats himself in the circular booth. He spots two of Kodai’s security detail hovering near the bar, each nursing a bottle of designer water. One says something to Hitomi, looks to Ryuk, and laughs.

“Why are you late?” Kodai checks the Ice Blue Rolex Cosmograph Daytona that he always wears. Ryuk knows it well; it was given to him by their late father. “One hour and thirty-two minutes late, to be exact.”

“I was busy,” he says a bit too fiercely.

“Playing your stupid games again?”

“Like I said, I was busy. Isogashii desu.”

Kodai jerks forward with a cocked fist and stops just in time. Ryuk flinches as his older brother bellows with laughter, long and loud and hard, just barely holding onto his whiskey. “Don’t be such a little bitch, Ryuk, I was just joking with you. I’m not going to hit you. The hour you left me waiting gave me time to see how the business was running and to check on a few things over iNet. Water under the bridge, as they say in America. Hey, are you paying attention to me?”

Ryuk blinks rapidly, feels anger and fear rise and quickly settle. “Yes, sorry.”

There hasn’t been a moment in Ryuk’s life that he wasn’t connected to iNet, the retina-based internet service so necessary and ubiquitous that it has become a basic human right.

Even as they speak, he is viewing his avatar auto-level through the Proxima in-game view, which allows him to watch his avatar battle in the lower left hand corner of his field of vision. It is quite common for just about everyone to have multiple real-life occurrences directly in front of them and some iNet feed streaming in their field of vision. The Internet of Things and the human brain were laced together in the middle of the century. Now they’ve become stitched and soon, they’ll become an amalgam.

“What’s the matter?” Kodai asks his little brother. “Did I say something wrong?”

Ryuk clenches his fists together under the table. “A lot has happened today,” he finally says. Tamana. He gets the urge to tell his brother what he witnessed but bites his lip instead. He knows Kodai won’t care, he’s that heartless.

His brother takes another sip from his whiskey. “Let’s discuss what I called you here to discuss.”

Hitomi the hostess returns and sets a glass down on the table. She opens a Tundra water bottle, quickly fills the glass, and quietly retreats.

An obese patron at the dimly lit table across from Kodai laughs drunkenly and lays a ten thousand Yen note on the table. The hostess sitting next to him nods and obediently removes her top. He presses his face to her remarkably oversized breasts, and with a snort of appreciation, snuffles and slobbers as she gathers up the price of her self-respect. Ryuk’s stomach churns; Kodai hardly notices.

“You haven’t enrolled for fall classes yet.”

“It isn’t even February yet.” Ryuk glances down at his hands. “And besides, I told you, I don’t want to go there. There’s a Proxima-based technical school … ”

Again, Kodai laughs long and hard. “A Proxima-based school? Fuck me if you aren’t just about the biggest loser I’ve met all day!”

“You called me here to tell me that? You could have just told me over iNet and saved us both the trouble.”

Ryuk steels himself not to react when Kodai grinds his heel into his foot. Kodai grins, bears down, and suddenly releases the pressure as he turns to watch the patron slobbering on the topless shōjo.

“Mother isn’t happy.”

Ryuk grimaces at the pain radiating off his toes. “And when is she ever happy?”

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” Kodai asks. “Come on, we own the place; sit back and have whatever you’d like, including one of the girls.” He scoots closer to his brother and nudges him. “We have a gaijin now, from Australia. Sarah, she’s fierce. At first I didn’t like her, but she’s growing on me.”

“Can I go?” Ryuk asks. “I have other shit to do.”

“Like play in your little fantasy world with Tamana? That is what you were doing right?”

Ryuk bares his teeth at his brother. “Damare!”

Kodai’s eye twitches. “You should know better than to speak to me like that in my club!” He points a finger at Ryuk and spittle flies from his lips as he shouts, “I will NOT be disrespected!”

The club comes to a halt.

The music keeps playing, but everyone cuts eyes to Kodai’s booth, even the inebriated moistener of schoolgirl funbags in the booth across the way. Kodai immediately notices and immediately reasserts control. “Where were we? School. Yes, you need to enroll. I’ve told you before, my four years at NYU were difficult, but look at me now.”

You’re a Yakuza crime lord. Is there a major for that?

“Well?”

“I’m looking,” Ryuk says.

“You know what,” Kodai finishes his drink and squeezes his glass for a moment. “I actually have something I want to show you. Something mother told me to give you, to remind you of family and tradition.” He sets the glass down. “Please, join me in the back. That’s why I called you here.”

(0)__(x)

Ryuk steps out into the bitter January night, and stuffs his hands in the front of his black hoodie. The fragrance of grilled chicken skewers from the back-alley izakaya behind the hostess bar hits his nostrils. His mouth waters as he tries to remember the last time that he ate.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks his brother.

“I thought you might be hungry.” Kodai turns to Ryuk and smiles. Several meters past the izakaya stands Gorira, one of Kodai’s most massive security escorts, whose bulk effectively blocks the alley from that direction. Gorira’s parka is too tight across his shoulders; it forces him to hunch over and hold his arms slightly away from his body.

Mmmm … that smell.

Ryuk considers ordering yakatori when Kodai’s fist flattens his nose.

His vision pane jump-cuts and he sees stars and planets. His head snaps back, he stumbles into the back wall of the hostess club and slides down.

Hands on hips, Kodai looks down at him, shaking his head in disgust as he waits for Ryuk to stand. Once he does, Kodai feints with a right and Ryuk flinches into a solid left that throws him flat. His older brother then steps in with a series of short, punishing kicks.

He pulls Ryuk up by the back of his hair. “Fight back, pussy-boy!” Kodai screams in his face. “You dishonor yourself and our family with your cowardice! Stand and fight!” He drops his younger sibling to the ground and gives him another kick.

“Stop,” Ryuk sobs, “please stop hitting me!”

“DEFEND YOURSELF!”

Ryuk closes his eyes, wraps his arms around his head and turtles up as he braces for Kodai’s next kick. MedStar warnings flash across his iNet screen and catalog his injuries; he is advised to seek immediate medical assistance.

He winces as he hears several thuds in rapid succession, a violent whoof of forcefully expelled breath and the sound of a slab of beef hitting the pavement.

“Hey!” Kodai shouts. “You aren’t supposed to do that!”

Ryuk opens his eyes to the most beautiful sight in the world – Hajime, stands over the gasping, twitching form of Gorira the bodyguard.

“A wise man would stay down,” Hajime advises the fallen man-mountain. He turns to Kodai and bows. “With respect, your organization hired me to protect Ryuk, and my contract is surprisingly non-specific. If you cease and desist now, I need not provide any further protection and the matter ends here.”

“Like hell I will!” Kodai reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls a small, black handgun. “I’ll shoot you.” Confidence returns as he flips the safety off.

“Don’t shoot him!” Ryuk tastes blood as soon as he opens his mouth.

Hajime keeps his eyes trained on Kodai’s weapon as he says, “If that is your response then I suggest you do it now.”

Kodai glances left and right. After a quick breath, he slowly lowers his weapon. “Get your shit together,” he tells his younger brother, “I expect you to be enrolled by the next time we meet and you … ” He points a shaky finger at Hajime. “I’ll see to your contract.”

Kodai returns his weapon to the inside of his jacket, huffs, and leaves his battered bodyguard in the alley as he steps back into the hostess bar.

Chapter 7: Is this the real life, or is itファンタシー?

Tokyo stretches in every direction. The lights of the endless city bear down upon its inhabitants, driving away the shadows. No matter how much light humanity shines upon itself, the shadows of the past always find a way to infiltrate the present. The sounds, the ever present traffic of humans and their mechanical counterparts, the claustrophobic bustle – the Vertical City has a good chance of reaching heaven by the century’s end.

Tamana. Thinking the name makes him choke up again. He wishes he’d said something smarter to her before she logged out that final time. Instead, like a total loser, he asked her on a date. It feels so petty now, so stupid to be concerned about such a thing after witnessing her jump in front of the train. Still, the thought is there, swirling with a host of other thoughts about their last encounter.

Ryuk’s aeros taxi flies in a lower airlane at about ten stories height above ground. Private vehicles and public transport aeros move all around him, their cabins filled with the swirling chaos of life. It is utter pandemonium to the uninitiated; natives know that it is just the way things are.

The humiliation from his encounter with his older brother still burns, and he hasn’t said anything in the way of thanks to Hajime for saving his ass, not a word. He sits quietly in the backseat of the aeros taxi, monitoring his avatar’s progress on his iNet screen. Slightly hungry, he’s already had a Rakuten droid drop off a yakatori protein plus bar at his flat just to put something in his stomach.

A long night ahead, Ryuk plans to use a technically illegal Somnium skip box he special ordered from Alibamazon Blaq. The Somnium skip box overrides the NV visor’s RW game-time governor, which is usually six to eight hours. This allows him to remain in the REM state necessary for digital dreamworld diving and still derive the benefits of a normal sleep cycle.

Leveling up all night is one of the best ways to grind.

“You should let me teach you how to defend yourself.” Hajime’s voice takes Ryuk off guard. The humandroid has been completely silent since they left the back alley.

Ryuk glances down at the wad of bloodied tissues clenched tightly in his hand. He wipes his nose again and says, “He’ll still win.”

Lights from the city flash across Hajime’s face revealing a look of contemplation. “Perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. During my daily recharge, I peruse the annals of human history for knowledge and entertainment. The theme of David and Goliath ... ”

“Who?”

“I’m sorry, I forget that most Japanese aren’t familiar with Judeao-Christian instructional parables. The ‘underdog archetype’ is a common theme which runs throughout humanity’s shared narrative. It is present in your stories and often times, it plays out in real life. The underdog archetype can revolve around a single entity or a collective who are expected to lose. Against all odds, the entity or entities win, but it is usually through careful planning and knowledge of its own limitations that it does so.”

“So you’re saying?”

“Is my meaning unclear? I’m saying you should let me teach you how to defend yourself in real life so your brother doesn’t commit fratricide.”

Ryuk scoffs at this suggestion. “He’s not going to kill me; he just gets a little too rough. Always has.”

“You must always be prepared. History is rife with stories of ambushes that could have been prevented. Knowing Kodai, he will modify my contract and I will no longer be able to protect you from him. This will not be particularly beneficial to him, however. MercSecure, the company that licenses out my services, has adjusted my violence-decision governor to a point where I’m able to make all my own choices, which is illegal in most countries.”

Ryuk still tastes blood in his mouth. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Almost no one does. It would be best if you kept this to yourself. However, you cannot presume that I will always be there to protect you.” Hajime is quiet for a moment. As the taxi descends into another airlane he continues, “Kodai’s fearlessness is something I noted after he drew his weapon. I’ve never seen anyone’s vitals go from one extreme to the other so quickly. He was not afraid of me in the least bit, when any rational entity should have been. I fear that this seriously discounts your unfounded belief that he will not kill or seriously injure you.”

“He’s not that bad … ” Not that good either, Ryuk thinks of adding.

“He aimed his weapon at the right side of my chest, a few centimeters from my underarm, actually.” Hajime touches the point he is referring to. “This is my auto-disable point; a bullet strike there would have incapacitated me. As you know, we don’t experience pain the way you do. Disabling my legs or emptying his weapon into my face wouldn’t necessarily disable me.”

Ryuk looks at Hajime with wonder. “Are you saying that you can be shot in the face and still operate?”

“I am.”

“What about your ocular feed?”

Hajime places his hand over his eyes. “I want you to put your pointer finger somewhere in the space in front of you.”

Ryuk lifts his finger, moves it around and settles in a place near the window. With one hand still covering his eyes, Hajime raises his pinky finger and lightly presses it into the side of Ryuk’s pointer finger.

“My ocular feed helps with recording and judging color; I have one hundred and eight thermal scanners and lidar sensors strategically located on my body. This is how I obtain most of my data about the external environment.”

“Interesting,” Ryuk says.

“That’s one way to put it.”

The two are quiet for another minute or so as Ryuk monitor’s his avatar’s progress. He suddenly can’t wait to log back in, to escape the real world. Finally, Hajime speaks, “We will begin your training tomorrow morning. You should get good rest tonight; fortunately for you, the Somnium skip box promises a full night’s sleep.”

“How did you know I was going to use that?” Ryuk asks. “Can you read my thoughts too?”

The humandroid laughs, which always strikes Ryuk as a little strange. “No, although I am an entity of many talents, that is not one of them. Statistical probability indicates that you would Proxima dive all night tonight, just as you have after every other meeting with your brother.”

(0)__(0)

Ryuk scarfs down his yakatori protein plus bar once he arrives home. His room’s a bit nippy, so he keeps his black hooded sweatshirt on rather than cranking up the heater. He’s done that before while diving and the results can be icky.

Anything to escape, he thinks as he seats himself and the haptic chair comes alive. He fixes the NV Visor over his head; the sine wave starts up and prompts him to choose his login point.

As soon as he spawns, he’s greeted by the potty-mouthed goblin.

“Fick me that’s the good stuff!” Hiccup pounds the healing potion given to him by FeeTwix. The rips and tears in his clothing repair themselves; the scratches, bruises and contusions on his hairy goblin arms quickly fade away.

Ryuk quickly checks the guilds stats and swipes them away:

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 3 Ballistics Mage

HP: 133/151

ATK: 43

MATK: 65

DEF: 10

MDF: 19

LUCK: 3

FeeTwix Fajer Level 9 Berserker Mystic

HP: 187/255

ATK: 71

MATK: 24

DEF: 44

MDF: 28

LUCK: 12

Hiccup Level 9 Shield Thief

HP: 350/350

ATK: 65

MATK: 24

DEF: 83

MDF: 47

LUCK: 8

Tritania is different from other VRMMORPG dreamworlds, which allow for extreme stat customization. The Proxima developers who originated this world wanted everyone – from the newest noob to the Proxima lifer – to be able to immerse themselves completely, and their surprising way to accomplish this was to keep the stats incredibly simple.

To do so, the developers based Tritania’s base mechanics off JRPGs from the 1980s and 1990s, where a player didn’t have a say in their deciding their attributes. They then merged this with newer MMORPG concepts, with their tailored skills based on character choices.

The early test results were stunning.

An ode to simplicity, Tritania’s mechanics quickly became something that was truly life-like for the end user. Just like in the real world, one couldn’t simply add points to a certain stat, yet they could get good at something and they could, through practice and repetition and chance, develop new skills. Tritania’s original mechanics also mirrored JRPGs with a turn-based battle system, which was something that was nixed through the reboot in the 2060s.

“Anything interesting happen out there in your other world?” Hiccup drops the empty vial on the ground and lets out a belch that rattles the chainmail vest he’s recently acquired.

“Nothing.” Ryuk swallows his recent humiliation. “Nothing at all. Just had some dinner. What’s the status on the dream armor? Any leads?”

“Trust me,” Hiccup assures him, “if either Twixy or me got some dream armor, we’d be fickin’ wearing it by now, ain’t that right, Twixster?”

“You are fickin’ correct.”

“It’s catching on!” Hiccup pumps his fists in the air. “Finally!”

Ryuk shakes his head.

Hiccup’s usage of ‘fick’ is the last thing he hopes will catch on. The damn Mind Mage that cast this spell on the entire goblin population really didn’t think it through. Better to just stop them from even conceptualizing the idea of cursing altogether, but knowing goblins, they’d figure something else out pretty quickly.

“Let me see … ” FeeTwix scrolls through his list, equips an air horn, and holds it above his head. “Just something I picked up at one of those back alley weapon sellers in Jatla. They have tons of schwag!” FeeTwix admires the air horn and briefly shows it to his audience. “Supposedly, it attracts enemies. Let’s try it out.”

The horn lets loose a tremendous WHO-O-O-N-K and Hiccup nearly jumps out of his ill-fitting armor.

“Fickin’ fickered ficktwat! Give me a warning next time, why don’t ya!?”

The ground rumbles as a creature smashes out of the misty surroundings, stomps its feet, and points a long staff at the three Mitherfickers. Its stats appear:

Tuskarr Level 9

HP: 220/220

MANA: 56/56

ATK: 38

MATK: 73

DEF: 5

MDF: 31

LUCK: 4

The tusks of the aeros-sized humanoid walrus are coveted for their magical properties, and Ryuk wonders why it’s here, so far away from water. The creature gives its staff a menacing twirl and shoots the three its surliest, most cantankerous scowl.

“Wait!” Hiccup puts his hand up. “Let’s make sure he isn’t a friendly.”

The Goblin plasters on his biggest, fakest grin and walks up, hands empty. “Heya, pal, just checking to see if you’re really up to this. I like you, Tusky, really I do. I had a friend who was a Tuskarr; boy could that big ficker throw back the Horse Piss. And he was generous, jeezly fick was he generous. All this to say, there’s something about your big yellow eyes, the white mustache that hangs over your tusks that reminds me of my friend.” Hiccup sniffles. “Go! Go! TWIXY, GO! MARBLES, GO! FICKIN’ KILL THE FICKER!”

Ryuk looses a combo of clear and black marbles. The black marble explodes with minimal effect; the clear marble hits and a tremendous stone block drops onto the tuskarr’s head and crumbles into sand.

-49 HP!

The anthropomorphic walrus twists his staff and zaps Hiccup with a beam of orange and yellow light.

“Yoy!” Hiccup’s eyes roll into the back of his head; he froths at the mouth, shivers and twitches.

“Oh shit … ” FeeTwix lifts his hand and scrolls through his list. “Hiccup’s turned!”

The now-frothing goblin charges; FeeTwix flips the temporary turncoat facedown.

The Swede places his knee on the back of Hiccup’s neck as he equips heavy duty flex-cuffs and secures the goblin’s paws behind his back. “That’ll hold him,” he announces to his audience as he removes knee from neck and straightens up.

With the speed of a striking cobra, Hiccup pivots on his round little goblin belly, sinks his blunt yellow teeth into FeeTwix’s ankle and drags him to the ground.

“Dammit!”

As his two teammates roll around, Ryuk lobs two black marbles at the tuskarr’s feet for a little distraction action, zigzags to the left, and lets go with another clear marble.

The wild card marble surprises him yet again as the Great Wave of Kanagawa levels the tuskarr, swooshing the creature away as the magnificent waves wash over him.

-15 HP!

Ryuk aims two black marbles at the spot where the tuskarr should be and …

He glances left and right – no tuskarr. FeeTwix and the still flexi-cuffed Hiccup are mud-wrestling in the wave’s residue, but that’s about it.

Ryuk’s life bar flashes: -6 HP!

The tuskarr appears to his left; his four-fingered hand strokes the air as he casts his spell.

DisNike Vader™ choke!

A sponsored attack? Ryuk instinctively raises his free hand to his throat as an invisible force squeezes his neck. -7 HP! With no other option, Choking Ryuk palms a clear marble, pulls back on his slingshot, and looses it at the Tuskarr.

The creature’s spell-casting hand explodes with a purpley-green flash. -96 HP! The pressure on his neck immediately subsides.

FeeTwix finally gets his ankle out from between Hiccup’s gnashers.

He rolls out of the mud and equips a heavy wool blanket, tosses it over Uncle Goblin, and rolls him up like a dog meat street burrito. After a couple of wraps of hot pink duct tape to keep him secure, FeeTwix places one foot on the struggling, bound goblin, shoots Ryuk a grin, and rolls him away.

“Fick you, you fickin’ fickers! Fickery! Fick-faced fick bags!” Like some vulgar goblin tamale, Hiccup continues to scream and curse from within the wooly depths.

The tuskarr snuffles and moans; he’s on his knees and clenches the stump of his wrist with his other hand.

Ryuk: I’ll finish him off.

FeeTwix: Have at it!

Ryuk places a black marble in the slingshot’s pouch, draws and aims. The tuskarr’s features run like water, swirl, and coalesce into the face of the Thulean who attacked him in his room, in the real world. He pauses and the creature’s face swirls again; now it wears his brother’s face.

“Kodai?”

It can’t be. He shakes his head, steadies his gaze, and pulls back even harder on his magic slingshot. Fury rolls over him as he looses the marble.

Instakill!

The tuskarr falls over, lets out a prolonged gasp, and dies. Experience points are awarded, hundreds of them, and a healing potion appears on the ground. The tuskarr’s staff floats in the air, upheld by a halo of shimmering light.

(0)__(X)

“Sweet!” FeeTwix makes a beeline towards the staff, grabs it, runs his hand along its contours, spins it three times, and puts it in his inventory list. “I’ve been needing a good shaman staff.”

“How many items do you have in your inventory list anyway?” Ryuk asks.

“A lot.” His finger comes up and he scrolls through his list. “Approaching three hundred as we speak, but I try not to brag about the items I have, and I’ve got no problem letting them go if they’re taking up space. There’s no sense in having shit that I’ll never use. My list has been upwards of six hundred items before.”

“Will you fickers quit comparing list sizes and get me the fick out of this carpet!” Hiccup wiggles and thrashes and rolls himself back into the mud puddle. “YOY!” he splutters, “Dammit! Someone get me out of here!”

FeeTwix shows Ryuk a poll of his audience.

“They think it’d be funnier if we keep him in the blanket for a while and just log-roll him anywhere we plan to go.”

Ryuk offers FeeTwix a rare smile. “That would be funny.”

A mirror appears in FeeTwix’s hand and he speaks to his reflection. “Sorry, everyone, Hiccup is a guild-mate and you just don’t do a guild-mate like that.”

“Damn straight!” The goblin barks.

FeeTwix drags the blanketed Goblin out of the mud and cuts the tape. Ryuk helps him unroll Hiccup, who’s seething with disgruntlement. FeeTwix produces an ornate pair of solid gold diagonal cutters and frees Hiccup’s wrists.

Hiccup pulls himself to his feet, turns to Ryuk and clenches his fists at his sides. “PTSG is a real thing, you fickin’ fickwads, and you got one right here – a Pissed off, Tired, Stressed out Goblin. Kick me in the mouth, zip-tie my hands, roll me in a carpet … ”

“Blanket.” FeeTwix interrupts.

“ … blanket, and drown me in a mud puddle. I call that the Genghis Goblin treatment! Ever heard of that guy? He used to roll people up in carpets and have them beaten to death.”

“Why carpets?” asks FeeTwix.

“Because it was less bloody that way. He was a real hemophobe. He sent his harem to Polynya whenever they were visited by the red horse. But even he wouldn’t have rolled me into a mud puddle to drown!”

“Trust me, Hiccup, we didn’t do that to you,” FeeTwix explains, “you did that to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, and I suppose it is my fault that the tuskarr bewitched me and the sun was orange this morning and the only ficker I could recruit for our fickin’ guild was a vain Swedish videophile with a bunch of voyeuristic, fanboy cellar dwellers for followers. Let me see, what else? Oh, and I suppose it is my fault that Tammy was captured and we’re out here leveling up when I should be sleeping because just like hobbits – and fick those guys, by the way – goblins need several naps a day. Somehow, all of this is my fault.”

Ryuk clears his throat. “Actually, most of what you just said is indeed your fault.”

“Like fick it is, Marbles!”

FeeTwix claps his hands together and his eyes flash back to their normal color of blue. “Before we continue, I must tell you that my audience just loves you! It’s like the more outrageous you are, the more they like you.” FeeTwix laughs. “It’s very, very odd. You should run for Overlord of Public Sanitation the next Tritanian election cycle. You’d make a great politician!”

“Whatever, Twixy.”

The Swede’s eyes turn black again. “Okay, back on, say something funny.”

“I’m not some sort of one trick fickin’ pony and you’re not the boss of me!” Hiccup eyes the tuskarr’s corpse, equips a cleaver, and drops to his haunches. He quickly hacks at the creature’s dental appendages with all the finesse of a Rwandan rhino horn poacher and makes a revolting, bloody mess of it.

“So whaddya think?” He grins and holds the tusks up in front of his mouth, waggles them at FeeTwix, and then adds them to his inventory.

What was that? Movement near an abandoned cathedral about ten meters away catches Ryuk’s attention.

A dark shadow appears on the side of the cathedral; it sinks into the ground, leaving an ink-like stain on the soil. Ryuk has a black marble on the way faster than he can think about it.

The explosion is fiery, satisfying even.

“Cripes!” Hiccup jumps backwards and tosses his ax to the ground. “What the fick are you shooting at?” He asks as he grabs his ax and the tusks.

“There’s an ink shadow over there,” Ryuk says.

FeeTwix equips an industrial-sized can of medical freeze spray. “This will work, right?”

Ryuk shrugs. His slingshot is aimed in front of him; a pair of clear marbles now rest in its pocket. “I’ve only seen mind and ice magic work against the higher level ink shadows.”

“Ink shadows are bad luck,” Hiccup says, his face wrought with worry, “really bad luck, fellas. My brother got bit in the chalupa by a dyckbyter snayke after seeing an ink shadow in his garden. He still walks with a limp!” He wipes his bloodied hands on his pant legs.

Ryuk steps in front of him. “Just stay behind us and we’ll take care of it.”

The three motley Mitherfickers approach the cathedral, Ryuk scanning right and FeeTwix scanning left. The cathedrals of Tritania are the only places to initially select and later change classes, although changing one’s class can require months of paperwork, another reason some simply become resetters.

A private message appears on Ryuk’s vision pane.

FeeTwix: Hey, my audience is telling me to use Hiccup to bait the ink shadow. Apparently, they like teasing goblins.

Ryuk: There must be some other way. I really don’t want to hear Hiccup’s bullshit after we suggest using him as bait.

FeeTwix: True. Let me check.

Ryuk watches as the ink shadow slithers from the ground to the roof of the cathedral. For some reason, it’s not engaging them.

FeeTwix: My peeps got nothing. Not much is known about ink shadows other than they love to gamble and they generally dislike goblins.

Ryuk and FeeTwix lock eyes, or better, Ryuk locks eyes with FeeTwix’s legions of followers. “Do you have any games in your list?” he asks loudly. “Specifically gambling games?”

The ink shadow perks up and slowly turns its head to them.

Hiccup tugs on Ryuk’s shirt. “What in the hell are you going on about? You’re supposed to be protecting me!”

“Why is it that ink shadows hate goblins?” Ryuk asks under his breath. “Remind me, I forget.”

Hiccup clears his throat. “Because we’re better gamblers than a bunch of fickin’ fart clouds!”

“Did someone say something about gambling?” The ink shadow boils up from the soil and presents itself to the three Mitherfickers.

“You heard me!” A hand ax appears in Hiccup’s grip. “You want a piece of me, come and take it!”

The blob of animate darkness looks from Hiccup to Ryuk for a moment and finally speaks in a low, melodic voice. “Did I hear, ahem, the goblin say something about gambling?”

“I said it, meant it too!”

FeeTwix steps in front of Hiccup to hold him back.

“Interesting,” the ink shadow lifts a tendril of inky blackness and strokes the place where its chin should be. “In that case, would you be willing to make a wager?”

“Would we be willing … Ryuk! Blast the crap out of this guy and let’s get on with it!”

“If you win, I’ll grant each of you a level.”

Ryuk speaks up. “You can’t just grant each of us a level.”

“Yes, in fact I can.”

The ink shadow’s stats appear:

Ink Shadow Level 49

HP: 851/851

MANA: 367/367

ATK: 254

MATK: 335

DEF: 256

MDF: 293

LUCK: 47

“You’re level 49?” Ryuk asks. “What are you doing here?”

“I grew bored so I figured I would stop by my old home.”

“You used to live here?”

The ink shadow nods. “Yes, The Paradise of the Insane, as it’s called, used to be known as simply ‘The Paradise.’ You let in a few too many ink shadows and everyone goes insane.”

Hiccup grumbles a string of curses about the species.

“Now me, I’m not the spooking type, but I do like to play games, especially high stakes games. So, if you win, I will let you destroy me. All of you are at pathetically low levels and you’ll benefit from the experience that you’ll reap from besting me.”

“And if we lose?” Ryuk asks.

“What do you have that I want?” The ink shadow seeps into the ground and comes up directly in front of Ryuk. At this range, Ryuk almost can see the outline of an old man’s face. “Nothing,” the ink shadow says.

The ink shadow moves to Hiccup, who immediately looks away, shivering with fright. “Nothing.” He stops in front of FeeTwix. After examining him for a moment he says, “Something.”

“So you want something from my list?”

“I do.”

“And what would that be?”

The ink shadow shakes its head. “If I tell you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise. So what do you say?”

“It’s up to you,” Ryuk tells FeeTwix, “it’s your list.”

“We’ll do it,” FeeTwix says proudly.

“What?” Hiccup stomps his feet. “Are you fickin’ kidding me?”

FeeTwix steps back and puts his arm around Hiccup’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, goblin friend. You said you were a better gambler than he is, so I’m betting on you.”

A prompt appears before Ryuk:

Challenge: Will you engage in a game of chance with the ink shadow?

Rewards: A shit-ton of experience.

Risks: FeeTwix will lose an unspecified item from his inventory list.

Ryuk glances at FeeTwix, who gives him the go ahead. He presses his finger down onto the “accept” button.

Chapter 8: Natty Dread

The cathedral door silently swings open, and a breeze whips out of the cavernous interior, bringing with it the scent of arsenic and old lace. The ink shadow sinks into the earth and reappears in front of the open doorway.

“Shall we begin?” he asks in a syrupy voice.

A mirror appears in FeeTwix’s hand as he leads the way. He quickly updates his audience about his current decision-making process as Ryuk hangs back. Hiccup is a spiky ball of angsty nerves, equally pissed off at the ink shadow and spooked by the abandoned cathedral.

“There could be ghosts in there,” he grumbles, “and boy, do I fickin’ hate ghosts.”

“So what if there are? We can battle them, no problem,” Ryuk assures him.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Big Resetter who’s been to all three continents and has vanquished enemies big and small. Ooh-ahh, Mr. Big Balls over here thinks he’s got a third leg up on the supernatural! Must be nice; must be nice to be so confident about the unknown.”

The mention of his previous travels calls to mind a vision of Tamana, back when she was a level 96 White Mystic. Ryuk had been on the brink of death so many times only to see Tamana hovering over him, her hands radiant white as she healed him, as she saved him – something he couldn’t do for her.

He suddenly feels cold; he suddenly feels helpless and useless and empty, as if Tamana’s death also took part of his life. He pushes the memory away as he enters the derelict cathedral.

The pews inside the cathedral have been arranged in a circular pattern, facing inward, and the stained glass depiction of a famous Tritanian deity who oversees all three floating continents is the only source of illumination in the darkened former house of worship.

“Now where is it … ” The ink shadow scratches the place where his chin should be for a moment. “That’s right!”

The ground shakes and the wooden floor of the cathedral gives way as a vertically positioned disk the size of a monster truck tire rises from the ground. Its outer edge is marked in a repeating pattern of different images – a death’s head, question mark, broken leg bone, crossed swords, and ‘spin again.’

“Natty Dread?” Hiccup shakes his fist at the ink shadow. “You got some fickin’ nerve challenging me to a game of Natty Dread!”

The ink shadow seems genuinely hurt. “It was that or Buffalo Soldier, and I figured this would be more to your taste.”

FeeTwix scoots up next to Ryuk. “Am I missing something here? What exactly is Natty Dread?”

“It’s a game that originated in the city of Naklin on the continent of Polynya. You roll dice, and if you get an odd number, you spin the Wheel of Dread. If you get an even number, you’re good to go – no spin necessary.”

“And let me guess, each item on the Wheel of Dread is trouble in some way?”

Ryuk nods. “If you land on a death’s head you die instantly. If everyone dies, the game is over and we respawn back at our guild.”

FeeTwix checks out the Wheel of Dread for a moment. “And the question mark?”

“This is about the only good thing on the wheel. The question mark allows us to ask one question, which the ink shadow must answer truthfully.”

The ink shadow crosses his heart. “On my mother’s grave, I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Empress. To assure my veracity during the questioning phase, I’m temporarily given access to everything the Sage of Gotha knows. Everything.”

“And the broken bone?” FeeTwix asks Ryuk.

“If you land on the bone, you permanently lose a limb.”

“This is just bloody fickin’ great,” Hiccup laments. “My cousin, Spew Gorge, lost his chalupa in a game of Natty Dread. Talk about unexpected bone loss!”

The ink shadow considers this for a moment. “Well, the baculum is a bone, although not precisely a bone like any other bone. I suppose in the spirit of good sportsmanship, I could leave your taquito alone.”

“Chalupa. And you promise not to touch it?” Hiccup protectively cups his hands over his groin.

“You have my word, and to be frank with you, I avoid the touching of goblin churros whenever possible.”

“Chalupa,” Hiccup growls.

“Yes, yes – your chupacabra. Now that that’s settled, shall we play? Does anyone have dice? If not, you can use mine.” The ink shadow presents three eight-sided black onyx dice with numerals inlaid in gold.

“Do we look like we were fickin’ spawned yesterday?” Hiccup scoffs.

“I have these.” FeeTwix flips his hand over and three oversize dice of solid gold with diamonds inlaid as the spots appear in his palm.

The ink shadows form waivers. “Good! You’ll each get two rolls. If any of you survive two rounds, then you may kill me and reap in the rewards for the entire guild!”

Hiccup holds his hand out to FeeTwix. “Give me the dice; I’m going first.”

The goblin cups his hands and rattles the dice hard enough to shake the inlaid gems loose, blows on them, hops from foot to foot as he rattles them again, whispers ‘daddy needs a new pair of shoes,’ and lets loose the dice. They quickly settle on the old cathedral floor: 6, 2, 4.

“Twelve, an even number!” Hiccup bounces to his feet, pumps his fist in the air, and clumsily does a few air-boxing moves. “Let me go again!”

“Not so fast,” the ink shadow objects, “we will circle around and then you can go again.”

“That’s not how Natty Dread is played!” Hiccup equips a tomahawk and shakes it at the ink shadow. “If a player gets an even number on his first roll, he’s allowed to make his second. Everybody in Tritania knows that.”

The ink shadow sighs. “Very well, if you wish to play double-ups, then double-ups is what we’ll play. Roll again.”

“That’s what I fickin’ thought.” Hiccup scoops up the dice and repeats his pre-roll shenanigans. This time, he blows on the dice a final time before he tosses them. As they settle, a look of horror spreads across the goblin’s face: 2, 5, 2.

“Nine!” the ink shadow chortles. “Time to spin the Wheel of Dread, goblin-friend!”

“Son of a fickin’ warlock!” Hiccup says as he approaches the wheel.

“Just get it over with,” FeeTwix tells him, “so we can take our turns.”

Hiccup swallows hard as he approaches the disk. He moves it up and down a little bit just to judge its weight, sucks in a deep breath and finally gives it his best spin.

The series of items blur past a red pointer that marks the stop spot; they become more distinct as the disc slows, and just as it looks like the red arrow is going to land on question mark, it skips over and lands on the image of a bone.

Hiccup draws his ax and his small shield. “You want a bone, huh? Come and take it!”

The ink shadow suddenly fills the cathedral all the way up to the rafters. “By agreeing to this game,” he announces in a deep and booming voice, “you have entered into a legally binding magical contract with me. You of all people should have known this, goblin.”

“Me and my friends never played with no magical contracts!”

“I’m not your friend,” the ink shadow chaffs.

With that, Hiccup’s right arm completely disappears. No blood, no violence, no nothing. It’s gone as if it never existed. Hiccup cries out and pats the place where his arm used to be. “Fick! He fickin’ took it! You ficker! And that was my favorite wanking arm!”

FeeTwix and Ryuk both make the ‘Eww’ face at this revelation. Hiccup slumps his shoulders, drops his chin to his chest, and shuffles over to one of the pews. He lies on his back, his blank and staring gaze focused on nothing as he puts his remaining hand on the spot where his arm used to be. FeeTwix takes a few steps back and crouches beside him. As he speaks to the de-armed goblin, Ryuk picks up the dice.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The ink shadow diminishes to its former size. “Remember, the three of you have to survive, that’s all. Losing a limb isn’t as bad as it seems.”

“Like fick it isn’t!” Hiccup moans.

Ryuk rolls the three die: 3, 3, 3.

“I win again!” The ink shadow does a brief but tasteful end zone celebratory dance. “Looks like you are on the path to losing, commoner.”

Ryuk curses under his breath as he moves over to the disk. He places both hands on it, and gives it the type of spin that would definitely give him an edge in the Showcase Showdowns of the past. The Wheel of Dread spins and spins and shows no sign of slowing down for a good ten seconds. Eventually, digital gravity takes hold and the wheel begins to slow. The red arrow just barely passes the peg separating the skull and the question mark, where it settles.

The ink shadow sulks for a moment. “All right, all right,” he finally mumbles, “what’s your question?”

Ryuk: I’m going to ask him about killer NPCs. He must know something.

FeeTwix: Good idea.

“Okay,” Ryuk says, “I have one question that I think you may be able to answer.”

“Go on.”

“Recently, NPCs have begun attacking people in the real world over their iNet feeds. What do you know about this?”

The ink shadow recoils.

The temperature inside the cathedral drops, and what’s left of the stained glass windows vibrate and rattle. Suddenly, whole sections break free and whirl around the circle of pews before they shatter on the floor. For the briefest fraction of a second, Ryuk glimpses a robed figure outside the cathedral, its form outlined in green magic. He blinks and the form is gone.

The ink shadow appears behind Ryuk and whispers in his ear, “There are larger forces in play here. You’ll know the answer to your question soon enough.”

He reappears next to the spinning disc as if nothing has happened. Even as the windows rattle and the ground shakes, he invites FeeTwix to roll the die. “Your turn, Berserker!”

“That’s not an answer!” Ryuk protests.

“That’s the best I’m allowed to give you.” the ink shadow subvocalizes. Then, in a louder voice says, “You! Overcoat! Your turn!”

As soon as the Swede scoops up the dice, everything reverts to its pre-question state. FeeTwix rolls the dice between his palms and casts them at his feet: 3, 2, 5.

“Ten, an even number. Double-ups,” he says, using the word Hiccup used earlier to roll again. This time, he blows on the die a few times before letting them go: 5, 1, 1.

“Seven!” The ink shadow’s form lifts into the air and settles. “Ready to roll the Wheel of Dread?”

FeeTwix is quiet for a moment as he reads through some messages from his followers.

“Well?” asks the ink shadow, his form starting to grow again.

FeeTwix: They’re telling me to just barely give it a tap and hit the question mark again.

Ryuk: Worth a shot.

The popular gamer steps up to the disc and gives it the daintiest of spins. It barely makes one revolution, almost stops on a question mark, but at the very last second, ticks over onto the crossed swords.

“A battle!” The ink shadow is beside itself with excitement. “Good luck!”

(0)__(0)

Standing in the back of the abandoned cathedral is a female warrior with a bodybuilder’s physique and improbably large cantilevered breasts. The mystic warrior’s features are hidden by a death’s head mask; her figure accentuated by a painted-on fantasy onesie. A sword appears in each of her hands. A wave of iridescent light zips around the blade in her left hand; her other blade bursts into flame as she makes ready.

Blade Mistress Level 10

HP: 150/150

MANA: 35/35

ATK: 87

MATK: 89

DEF: 56

MDF: 48

LUCK: 6

FeeTwix springs into action with a firefighter’s high-pressure water hose and blasts the swordmistress with a jet of gold-flecked water. His golden shower attack does little to douse the woman’s flame sword, but it does leave her soaking wet and angry as a hive of hungover hornets.

Please be ice, please be ice … With a mighty THWAP, Ryuk zings a clear marble on its way, and the impact freezes their adversary inside a solid clear blue mass.

New skill learned!

Skill: A Simple Request

Level One: 1 in 7 chance of a request being granted.

Caveat: Only works with a clear marble.

Requirements: LUCK > 2

A new skill! Ryuk would pat himself on the back if it weren’t for the fact that a fissure in the ice has already began to form around the woman’s fire sword.

FeeTwix sees his opening and springboards off a pew into a flying icepick attack; the blade mistress breaks a sword arm free, skewers him in mid-leap, and holds him like a butterfly on a lepidopterist’s spike.

Ryuk loads two black marbles and one clear marble into his slingshot, cries, “Instakill!” and zings them on their way.

-23 HP!

His simple request doesn’t take, but the attack does force the iced-up sword mistress to toss FeeTwix aside with her firesword still jutting from his body.

She shrugs, flexes, and bursts out of her icy imprisonment. The luminescent sword comes up and she turns to Ryuk, just in time to get another black marble right in the kisser.

-5 HP!

She shakes it off.

Why isn’t it hurting her as badly?

He looses three more.

-7 HP!

What the hell?

“Instakill!” Ryuk lets go with another clear marble in the hope that his new skill will take this time. The transparent messenger of uncertainty slams into the center of her chest, and a red web of energy tendrils blasts across her upper body.

Enhance!

Her muscles bulge and her eyes flash red. She’s in front of him in the blink of an eye, and he barely manages to avoid a slash from her sword.

The marble backfired!

The busty sword-babe boots him in the head and sends him crashing through a pew.

-11 HP!

She follows him in and kicks the slingshot out of his grip. The tip of her sword dimples his throat; her feral grin is all pointy teeth and raging bloodlust.

“FICK YOU!” Out of nowhere, Hiccup blindsides the warrior and knocks the living Empress out of her. It’s an epic snap, meat on meat, slab on slab.

-35 HP!

Once she’s back on her feet, Hiccup is roundhouse kicked right in the chalupa for his troubles. He collapses in a one-armed, panting heap. “Fick me to tears,” he gasps as he beats the ground. “Yoy! That fickin’ hurts!”

FeeTwix empties a health potion and wipes his mouth on the back of the hand that isn’t pointing his slice bang right at the warrior. Three shots from the stabby shootin’ iron sends the blade-wielding broad crashing into a pew.

Instakill!

Tritania’s firearms penalty brings FeeTwix to his knees, his form flashing red. He chugs yet another health potion and staggers to his feet, considers his life bar, tosses the bottle over his shoulder, and downs one more still. His eyes are his own now, and he looks shocked that she was able to skewer him.

The ink shadow floats over the warrior’s corpse, and as it descends, she fades and vanishes.

“The game must go on! Are you ready for your final roll?” He cackles for a moment. “Sorry, this is just so much fun!”

Ryuk snatches up the dice and turns them over in his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

(0)__(x)

“Well, it looks like you have to spin the Wheel of Dread again.” The ink shadow chuckles. Ryuk glares down at what he just rolled, cursing under his breath: 1, 1, 1.

“Cheating ficker! He’s using magic!” Hiccup positions himself behind Ryuk, just in case his accusation generates any blowback from the ink shadow. “You’re a dirty, filthy, lying, cheating, granny-fickin’ diarrhea stain!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” FeeTwix equips a small wooden horse with a mane of yellow yarn. He circles the Wheel of Dread and waves the miniature horse high and low, shakes his head and announces, “Nope, no magic in use.”

“Well, how the fick do you know?” Hiccup objects.

“If there were magic in play, the mane would have stood up straight.” the Swede waves the carved wooden steed in the air just to be sure. “Nope – still nothing. Isn’t it cool? A fan gave it to me after I announced that I’d be live-streaming from Tritania.”

Hiccup groans as Ryuk steps up to the Wheel of Misfortune. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ryuk takes a deep breath and gives it a hearty spin. The images whirl and blur and come into focus as the wheel slows, slows, slows a bit more, and stops … on the question mark.

+2 LUCK!

If the ink shadow is disappointed, he conceals it well. “I am an entity of my word,” he begins, “Ask me any question and I will answer with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Empress.”

FeeTwix: Ask about the Shinigami. Find out why they took your friend.

Ryuk: Her name is Tamana, and good call.

Hiccup: Screw that! Ask about my arm, and how the hell I’m supposed to get it back!

FeeTwix: We already discussed your arm. Trust me, I’ll take care of it after this.

Ryuk steps forward, ignoring the fact that Hiccup is grumbling and kicking at the dust behind him.

“Ask your question and you shall receive an answer,” the ink shadow tells him.

“Why did the Shinigami guild kidnap the RPC Tamana?”

The ink shadow’s form trembles.

A portion of the ceiling collapses inward; the support beams above moan and creak as the walls of the cathedral shake and vibrate. Dust and debris cloud the air as the entire structure starts to move. Again, Ryuk sees the robed figure outside the church – it vanishes just as he spots it.

“I will not be intimidated!” The ink shadow cries out. “The Shinigami are a guild that are trying to … ”

Debris rains down around it, but it dodges them.

“They are … !”

The stained glass bursts from their lead strips and rains down upon the three Mitherfickers. The ink shadow disappears again, and reforms directly in front of FeeTwix.

“KILL ME!” it cries out. “Before they do!”

FeeTwix shoots Ryuk an uncertain look.

“Do it! Do it!” The ink shadow balloons in size. “KILL ME!”

FeeTwix pulls back and stabs his slice bang directly into the ink shadow’s center, pulling the trigger on the hilt of his weapon as soon as the blade is in. The creature turns to crystal and explodes.

Instakill!

Each of the Mitherfickers is bumped up a level, just as the cathedral collapses around them in a landslide of stone and rubble. Enough big pieces stack up to partially shield them from the falling debris. Once it looks like the last of the big stuff has fallen, Ryuk picks himself out of the scree. He runs his hands over his body and feels for injuries.

No hit point damage – that’s odd.

Ryuk helps FeeTwix push a particularly large stone off his body and offers him his hand.

“Where’s the goblin?” FeeTwix asks. Ryuk notices that his eyes are still blue.

“Not livestreaming?”

“Not yet. I’ll give everyone an update after we find Hiccup.”

They hear a muffled cry from a particularly robust pile of rubble and go to work uncovering the goblin. They lift the larger stones together and once they’ve removed most of them, the goblin wiggles his way out from beneath a pew.

“Jeez!” Hiccup breathes heavily as he’s helped to his feet. “That was fickin’ terrible … and my arm. That filthy ficker took my arm! That’s my ass-scratching hand, dammit!”

“I thought that that was your wank … uhh!”

Ryuk interrupts FeeTwix with an elbow in the ribs. With his magic slingshot up, he scans the area for the shadowy outline he saw earlier, but the mist is thickening up, and the dust from the collapsed building isn’t helping the visibility.

“I told you not to worry, Hiccup.” FeeTwix scrolls through his seemingly endless list and equips an arm made of brass that’s studded with gears and wheels and levers.

The goblin stares in horror at the steampunk amalgamation.

“Relax … ” FeeTwix’s eyes turn black. “Welcome back everyone. Sorry the feed was cut! As many of you saw, Hiccup lost his arm to the ink shadow back there in a game of Natty Dread. Now he’s set to get a brand new arm and boy am I excited about that. Hiccup? Not so much, but what can you do? Also, this week only, I want to remind everyone in Scandinavia that In ‘N’ Out in the Box has just opened two new locations in Copenhagen in the Vesterbro District, to better serve you! Mention #FeeTwixRox at the ordering kiosk or when you place your iNet order to receive a free upsize on any one menu item! So back to the arm … ” He points the arm in the air. “Now bring me the goblin!”

“Nuh-uh, not happening, video boy. You’ve gone off your fickin’ rocker if you think I’m going let you strap a big brass dildo on me! You said you had a solution, not a cyborg sex toy!”

Ryuk stops scanning the horizon for a moment and asks, “How does it work?”

“It’s steam-powered, but the steampack has been built in so as not to be obtrusive.” FeeTwix turns to the goblin. “What are you waiting for you? You need an arm, I have an arm. Sounds like a win-win to me. Now, to connect it … ”

“Anyone have any fickin’ hooch?” Hiccup asks. “Some drorikh, preferably.”

“No,” Ryuk says with disapproving abruptness.

“Marbles, you have the empathy of a fungal growth in the cleft of a dragon’s ass.”

“Don’t worry,” FeeTwix grins. “I’ve used one of these before. The attachment process isn’t really all that painful. Come on – don’t be a big baby.”

“The fick, you say!” Hiccup huffs, sighs, and with eyes squinched shut and head turned away, reluctantly presents his armless shoulder. The gears spin up, the fingers come alive and the shoulder end opens like the maw of a lamprey. FeeTwix presses the mechanical arm onto Hiccup’s shoulder, and the goblin’s flesh tendrils up and settles around the union of goblin shoulder and steam-powered arm. The external gears click and clank as the arm makes minor adjustments.

FeeTwix lets go and the brass arm dangles there for a moment. “Don’t be afraid of it; it may actually be of some benefit to you.”

“Who’s afraid? Other than my second ex-mother-in-law, I’m not afraid of anything that’s not trying to kill me.”

“What about ghosts?”

The rearmed goblin ignores Ryuk. He holds his mechanical hand up in front of his face, bends and twists the wrist, flexes and wiggles the fingers. An idea occurs to him; he reaches around and gives his ass a most vigorous scratch. He grins and thumps his foot in time to the scratching. “Oh yeah; that’s the ticket. That’s the good stuff!”

FeeTwix laughs. “Glad I got that on video, and I’m glad you like it!”

Hiccup runs his other hand over his new brass arm. He knocks on it for a moment. “I can’t say that I hate it, and it sure isn’t my first choice, but it’ll do for now,” he remarks as he sniffs the fingers he just scratched his ass with. “All right, where to, boss?”

That anyone would consider him boss is a strange and alien concept, even if he is technically the leader of the guild. Ryuk turns his head to conceal the uncertainty he feels, clears his throat and says, “We need to find the dream armor that’s located somewhere around here. And I’ve realized the fatal flaw in my avatar: I have no way of protecting myself in hand-to-hand combat.”

Hiccup continues to test the capabilities of his new arm by vigorously mining his oversized nostrils and flicking the extracted deposits at FeeTwix. “You just now realized that?”

“What’s so special about dream armor?” FeeTwix asks, as he pivots out of the way of Hiccup’s ejecta.

“Dream armor is metamorphic; it becomes whatever armor the wearer needs. It’s almost impossible to get and super, super expensive if you can find it. I was Level 96 and I couldn’t afford any even if I’d found some.”

“Well, if it’s dream armor you really want,” Hiccup says, “I’m your goblin to find it, but it won’t be cheap.”

“You’re already getting two percent of whatever treasure we find,” Ryuk reminds him.

“I thought it was four percent.”

“No, it’s three.”

“That’s fine, but when I find this armor, you’ll need to toss me a little bonus. How about a healing potion? I know you still have one left.”

FeeTwix drapes an arm onto Hiccup’s shoulder and wipes a goblin booger back onto him. “Sure, we’ll give you a healing potion when you find the dream armor.”

Hiccup jams his new metallic finger into his mouth, gives it a good slobbering, and sticks it up in the air. “It’s that way,” he says as he turns to the east. “We are close, so get ready. I got the feeling one of those classic big boss battles is on the horizon.”

Chapter 9: Dream armor or bust

Shall I use my air horn again?” asks FeeTwix.

“Does insanity run in your fickin’ family, Twixy? Ever heard of the element of surprise? I’m trying to find us some dream armor here, not get my ass handed to me on a dragonscale platter. Priorities, mate, priorities, and a goblin’s priorities are as follows: treasure and sex.”

“What about violence?”

“Violence is a natural extension of treasure and sex.”

A soft, red glow around a storm shelter catches Ryuk’s attention. He examines the glow for a moment and it flashes, intensifies.

New skill learned!

Skill: Magic Eye

Level One: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near.

Requirements: Level 4 Mage, LUCK > 4.

Another skill, three now, he thinks. He checks his stats again just to get a sense of where he’s at after his last level up.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 4 Ballistics Mage

HP: 185/185

ATK: 45

MATK: 74

DEF: 13

MDF: 22

LUCK: 5

Getting better, and he’s only used one auto-level, nine left. Still, the Shinigami could be at any level and according to Hiccup, they were tooled up pretty seriously. While it’s fun grinding and milling about in the bucolic splendor of the Hyperborean countryside, he needs to keep his eye on the prize – Tamana’s rescue. And there’s other stuff going on as well, such as the robed figure at the cathedral. ‘Bigger forces at play’ is an understatement.

“Where are you heading?” FeeTwix asks.

“That storm shelter,” Ryuk says, “there’s something off about it.” He draws his slingshot and pouches up a clear marble. With any luck, his Simple Request will work next time.

“Thanks, guys, for taking care of me for once.” He swipes away the poll.

FeeTwix brandishes a double-bladed sword and gives it a slow whirl. With a flick of his wrist, the two blades shift on the hilt and lock into place, thirty degrees off from their normal position.

“That’s exactly the type of place that has fickin’ ghosts.”

Hiccup equips a spiked club. In his new mechanical hand he clutches a crooked dagger. “What?” he asks as FeeTwix admires his stabby weapons. “You think you’re the only one with a big fickin’ inventory list? I call this one Frank’s Toe Knife.”

“How should we do this?” Ryuk keeps his slingshot trained on the storm shelter’s opening.

“Are you sure something is in there?” FeeTwix asks.

“I’m getting magic readings,” Ryuk explains, “it’s a new skill. Whatever it is, it’s moving a lot.”

Hiccup nods to Ryuk. “I sense it too. There’s treasure, and whenever there’s rare treasure there’s someone looking to keep that treasure for themselves.”

“Well, let’s go in weapons a-blazing then.” FeeTwix lifts his hand to scroll through his list. “I’ll toss a few grenades in there to get things off to the right start.”

Too late. The doors of the storm shelter snap open and arm-thick vines burst out, slapping and slamming against the ground. Hiccup ducks just in time to avoid the first swipe. “That’s fickin’ big!”

The creature’s stats appear:

Giant Vine Squid Level 20

HP: 431/431

ATK: 76

MATK: 32

DEF: 239

MDF: 64

LUCK: 8

“Have at it, boys!” Hiccup charges in bashing and slashing at anything he can reach; one of the vines he doesn’t reach snatches him up and jerks him off his feet. He roars his indignation and stabs, clubs and cleaves in a blur of furious motion.

-2 HP! -2 HP! -2 HP! -2 HP!

The vine flings him into a moss-covered and weather-stained statue of Empress Thun. He bounces off, lands with a ‘Yoy!’ and hops to his feet just in time to club another incoming vine. FeeTwix dashes in and slashes his way into a wall of waving greenery; funky vine juice splatters all around him.

-12 HP! -20 HP!

Two black marbles fly past the Swede’s head and explode inside the storm shelter; the three Mitherfickers hear a blood-curdling, water-boiling, gut-wrenching screech.

“It’s definitely pissed now!” Hiccup charges, leaps, and brings his club down on a vine beelining towards Ryuk.

-10 HP!

More vines burst out of the storm shelter, lift into the air and snap against the soil. They writhe and curl as FeeTwix hacks into them.

-9 HP! -9 HP! -9 HP!

A vine yanks Ryuk’s feet out from under him and suddenly, he’s airborne.

The slingshot’s pouch slips out of his grasp; the two black marbles he’d had on deck fly wide and explode against a dead tree in a nearby courtyard. The vine hurls him through a picket fence and he lands in a garden overgrown with thorn bushes, grass burrs and wait-a-minute vines. -21 HP!

He painfully extracts himself from nature’s barbed wire plants and the vine smashes him right back into the spiky unpleasantness. As he falls backward, Ryuk jams a handful of black marbles in the slingshot’s pouch and zings them off; the slingshot warms from overuse.

Ryuk: We’re getting KILLED here. Any surprises in your list?

FeeTwix: Oh yeah, I got just the thing!

FeeTwix swings his double-bladed sword just enough to keep the vines off him and equips a mahoosive crossbow of silver and mahogany with intricate golden inlays. The weapon flows and spreads and encases his left arm in a web of pulsating symbiotic tendrils that crackle with energy as the weapon charges up.

Hiccup: Fick yes! FICK YES!

Ryuk: You have a mutant hack!?

An eyeball searing green flash momentarily dispels the fog and gloom as FeeTwix unleashes a bolt of sheer hellfire straight into the shelter entrance. The ground shakes; the great vine squid shrieks in pain and dismay as the blast vaporizes most of its vines. Smoke and steam boil out of the shelter and the air is filled with the fragrance of boiled asparagus and calamari well past its best-by date.

-300 HP!

“Oh kuso! That didn’t kill it!?” Ryuk leaps to his feet and bolts over to FeeTwix, just in time to see his mutant hack return to its crossbow state. He loads two clear marbles into his magic slingshot and aims it at the shelter entrance.

“My hackbow,” the Swede says as he returns the weapon to his list. “Long story behind it, but until I can get it looked at by a master weaponsmith, it’ll only shoot once per day. Still, it doesn’t give me a life penalty, so you can’t beat that.”

Hiccup appears at his side and drops his mechanical hand onto the Swede’s shoulder. “You didn’t fickin’ tell me you had a mutant hack! The Shinigami are done for – we will fick them up, down and sideways five ways from Friday! Those fickboys won’t know what fickin’ hit them!”

“It’s not something I advertise; others will want to fight me for it if I do.”

Ryuk notices that FeeTwix eyes are blue.

“You weren’t streaming that?”

“Again,” he says, “my mutant hack is not something I advertise, at least not until the big battle. Make them work for it.”

FeeTwix’s double-bladed sword takes shape in his hand. The blades shift thirty degrees and a miner’s headlamp appears on his head. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get our asses in there and finish it off.”

(0)__(0)

The back-blast from FeeTwix’s mutant hack seriously damaged the entrance to the storm shelter, forcing the three Mitherfickers to traverse a partially collapsed stairwell that they can barely squeeze through.

“How far down do you think it goes?” Ryuk asks FeeTwix, who’s in the lead.

“I can’t really tell from here.”

Hiccup’s teeth start to chatter. “I don’t know about you fickers, but I’m seriously freezing my massive goblin testes off here. This is why goblins live on the coast of Hyperborea and not in Ultima Thule FYI. We hate the cold.”

“And goblins hate ghosts, working, leveling up, personal hygiene, and not whining, apparently. Equip a jacket.” FeeTwix laughs.

“How am I supposed to save your asses if I’m all bundled up like Nanook of the North and my mobility is reduced? No, we’ll get the dream armor and then it’s gobnap time. I’ve got a flask of drorikh I’ve been saving.” Realization flashes across his eyes. “Fick me! I should have chugged that back when you rearmed me. Shit.”

A fetid breeze moves up the stairwell, pushing stale air past the three Mitherfickers.

“Getting closer,” FeeTwix whispers. “I’m going live again.” He clears his throat. “Sorry everyone, some tech difficulties! We’re back, about to go in for the kill.”

Ryuk keeps his magic slingshot at the ready. He has a single clear marble ready to go; the explosive black marbles could cause a cave-in, and having survived one in the Mines of Rotlana, he’d rather not go through that again.

“We’re coming to the bottom,” FeeTwix whispers. “Weapons up!”

“Treasure!” Hiccup pushes past his two guildmates. He explodes into a wide open space and disappears to the right.

Damn goblin!

FeeTwix steps out into the opening and what’s left of the giant vine squid drops down and engulfs him. The oversized barrel-shaped cephaloplant has FeeTwix wedged most of the way down its gullet. It writhes and struggles as he hacks and slashes at its insides, and then violently disgorges him in a burst of bilious plantopus goo.

The Swede rolls backwards, springs to his feet, and with a flick of his wrist, bile and goo flies off his double-bladed sword. His eyes flash.

“I will not be humiliated!” He charges back in with his blades held high, slips in a puddle of vine squid gunk and most ungracefully skewers himself as he falls on his fancy double-sword – Schwip!

(0)__(x)

FeeTwix: Shit! I should have gone with a gun! It’s up to you and the goblin if he ever shows back up! P.S. 675,309 fans are livestreaming this, so no pressure … Remember, if you guys die, we have to start back at the guild again, so no pressure there either.

“No pressure,” Ryuk whispers, says the Tritania noob who fell on his own sword. No pressure.

FeeTwix’s miner’s lamp still shines, and the giant vine squid tries to scoot out of the light. Hiccup pops out of the shadows and ultra-thuds the plant-animal in the back of the head.

-12 HP!

The vine squid pirouettes on the stubs of its tentacles and punts the club-wielding goblin right in his dangly bits. Hiccup screams ‘Yoy!’ as he hits the ceiling, drops to the floor and covers up just that little bit too enthusiastically with his new brass hand. The plus-size vine squid lands on him gaping beak first and begins the process of deglutition.

“Marbles! A little fickin’ help for the kid, eh?” His new mechanical arm clatters and bangs against the floor as he scrabbles for a handhold.

FeeTwix: Use your explody marbles to kill it and Hiccup if you have to. As long as you’re not dead, we’ll respawn there after the battle. Plus you’ll get all the EXP, and you’re the one who needs it the most.

Well when you put it like that … Ryuk loads a combo clear and black marble in the pocket of his slingshot. He draws and aims and the slingshot grows uncomfortably warm in his grip.

FeeTwix: Watches are surging! 700,301 people right now. No pressure!

I need more light …

FeeTwix’s headlamp grows brighter and brighter, and the shadows leap away to reveal a number of treasure chests in the far right corner.

FeeTwix: How did you do that!?

Ryuk: I just thought it and … it worked!

FeeTwix: A spike in views, now approaching 800,000, no pressure, man but seriously, kill that thing! How do they say it in Japanese? Ganbatte! Ganbatte!

No pressure, Ryuk thinks as he releases a clear marble and a black marble simultaneously. “No pressure,” he whispers as the two marbles explode against their target.

+1 LUCK!

Skill level up!

Skill: A Simple Request

Level two: 1 in 6.75 chance of a request being granted.

Caveat: Only works with a clear marble.

Requirements: LUCK > 4

Hiccup is blasted into the wall as the giant vine squid suddenly grows more giant; it inflates like a weather balloon, it bulges and squeaks against the floor and ceiling, swells and bursts in a shower of guts and viscera.

FeeTwix: What did you do? The fans are going crazy!

Level up!

Ryuk is awarded a ton of experience points, easily enough to level up.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 5 Ballistics Mage

HP: 182/213

ATK: 48

MATK: 81

DEF: 17

MDF: 24

LUCK: 6

A new pouch appears on his belt and a prompt appears:

New marble acquired! Knife marbles have continuous damage capabilities and can cause an instakill in the right circumstance and at the right level. BONUS! Double damage if they strike an unarmored portion of the target.

Hiccup is bad off, banged around, and angry to boot, but he still has life left and he’s less grumbly when FeeTwix’s avatar materializes, healing potion in hand. The goblin snatches it away, guzzles it down, and uncorks a satisfied ructus.

He narrows his eyes at Ryuk as the beak-bites, scrapes, scratches, bruises, contusions, evulsions, and eviscerations heal right up. Even the dings and dents in his mechanical arm repair themselves as he holds out his brass hand and wiggles his fingers.

“Don’t you hold out on me too,” Hiccup tells Ryuk.

“I got mugged back in Jatla. I don’t have a healing potion.”

“Now isn’t the time to be a cheapfick.”

“Never mind that – where the hell did you run off too when we got down here?” Ryuk asks.

“Show, don’t tell. Am I right?” Hiccup strolls over to one of the treasure boxes and kicks it open. Sure enough, it’s filled with rupees. “My guess is that there are several thousand rupees in here. Now I’m not saying we’re dragon eggs and Yoshi McNuggets for breakfast rich, but us Mitherfickers can afford finger bowls and appetizers next time we dine out.”

Ryuk does a quick check. The guild’s shared bank account now stands at 5,309 rupees.

Getting better.

“And the dream armor?”

“Gee, I dunno. What do you think is in this other chest?”

“Nice.” Ryuk works his way over to Hiccup, careful not to step on a severed vine or in any of the visceral giant vine squid splooge. The spell he inadvertently cast on FeeTwix’s headlamp is still working, but the far corners of the room have already started to darken.

“Potion.” Hiccup extends an open palm to Ryuk.

“Seriously, I was robbed. When I went out to recruit for the guild, there were these two guys mugging a goblin grandma. Well, I killed them, and then she stuck me with this great big knife and stole all my stuff.”

“Ha! That’s the oldest trick in the book right there!” Hiccup chortles, snorts, and winces when he slaps his thigh with his new mechanical hand. “By the Empress’ Mahoosive Mammaries, you are fickin’ pathetic. We’ll just have to stock up in the next town, and now that we’re back in fundage we can afford the good stuff. I’m telling you guys, there are a couple of healing potion manufacturers, but Hopkins’ Holistic Healing Nostrums, well they’re the best.”

“I usually charge for endorsements,” FeeTwix reminds him.

“Yeah? Well I don’t have a terse and witty comeback for that, but if I did, I’d say it now. The night is young, kiddos, so get your dream armor, Marbles, and let’s get to the nearest town. We could all use a little rest and we have two more days before we have to face off against the Shinigami.”

FeeTwix brings up a blue map and scrolls through it. “A resort town called Sotla isn’t very far from here; I bet we can get there without getting in another fight.”

“Sounds like a plan, Twixy.”

Ryuk approaches the treasure chest. He runs his hand along its surface, admiring the wood grain for a moment. He pops it open and a rainbowesque energy radiates all around him. A tingling sensation wraps around his body as the armor takes shape. Aside from a chest piece and epaulettes, the dream armor forms peculiar looking ribbed vambraces on Ryuk’s arm.

+30 DEF!

“Holy fickered hog tits. I’ve actually seen this armor in use before! Watch and learn, Marbles.” Hiccup equips a tomahawk and tries to whack Ryuk’s arm off. Mid-swing, Ryuk’s vambraces extend downward, deflecting Hiccup’s attack.

“It morphs to meet the attack.”

“It sure does.” Hiccup tries again and the armor peels off Ryuk’s arm to meet the attack.

“Cool, huh?”

“Very.” Ryuk admires the dream armor for a moment and instantly wishes Tamana were here to see him growing into a more formidable character.

She will be soon, he reminds himself.

Chapter 10: The Thulean

The three Mitherfickers take the long and winding road to Sotla and Ryuk gets the uneasy feeling that they’re being watched. Soft glows in the misty forest catch his eyes and keep him on guard. Nothing comes of it, other than the growing realization that if his magical abilities continue to develop at their present rate, he may become much more formidable than he imagined he ever would be when he chose to become a Ballistics Mage.

He keeps half an eye on the forest and lets his mind drift back to less than a day ago when he and Tamana visited the cathedral in Jatla to choose their new resetter classes. She suggested they try something different, something more challenging, more difficult to master. She’d take on the healing and face-to-face battling as a White Warrior while he would pummel enemies from afar. It was a perfect match.

Originally, he didn’t agree.

He’d wanted to be a Dark Assassin, one capable of intensely fast attacks. Assassins level up quickly and are useful in battle and quest-based scenarios. Add a dark magic sub-class to that and you get twice the killer. But Tamana hadn’t wanted him to – and she had considerable influence over him, more than anyone else for that matter. He’d caved to her wishes – well, her directions more exactly – and the rest was history.

I need to test out my new knife marble, he thinks, as they pass a sign pointing towards the city of Jatla. The moon provides enough illumination to outline the sign and highlight its carved letters. He slows his pace so Hiccup and FeeTwix can go ahead, pouches up a marble and draws it back. The business end of the marble stretches into a sharp point, yet the base of the marble remains round.

So that’s how it works.

He relieves the tension on his slingshot and the knife marble returns to its original shape. He tries again, quickly this time, and as he pulls back on the pocket with the marble inside, the silver marble again stretches into a sharp blade on its business end.

He looses the blade and it makes a thunk sound as it hits the sign.

“Dragon Ficks!” Hiccup drops to the ground. “Incoming! Get down! Get down!” His spiked club appears in his mechanical hand. “Down you fickers, down! Someone’s shooting at us!”

FeeTwix laughs. “It was only Ryuk testing his new marble.”

Hiccup tries to push himself up, grimaces at the pain in his lower back, and eventually rolls to his side. “Hey, fick-face. Little help for your elder?” As FeeTwix helps him to his feet, Hiccup curses with a passion and depth of feeling usually reserved for faster cars, younger women, and older whiskey.

FeeTwix is impressed; Ryuk ignores him and looses another shot at the wooden sign.

“This is so cool! Did you see how this works?” he waves FeeTwix over and turns his hand slightly to show him the knife marble. “When I pull it back,” he demonstrates, “the other end stretches into a blade.”

“It’s like you’re pulling a blade out of thin air!” FeeTwix’s scrolls through his list. A classic TruMark Wrist Rocket appears in his hand and he offers a palm to Ryuk. “Let me give it a try.”

Ryuk hands him one and he pouches it up.

FeeTwix pulls back and …

Nothing. Ryuk smiles, feels ashamed for smiling, and looks away. Once he’s sure that his smile has vanished, he returns his focus to FeeTwix, who is still trying to pull a knife out of thin air.

“I guess you have to be a Ballistics Mage to use its magical properties.” FeeTwix gives the marble back and Fwitt! Ryuk sticks another one into the sign.

“You know,” huffs the brass-armed goblin, “some Sotlan signmaker is going to be royally peeved that some fickin’ douche canoe has been dagging his sign all night. How ‘bout you stop all the fickin’ around and we get to town.”

“Relax, goblin friend.” FeeTwix pats him on the shoulder. “It’s only just ahead.”

“I’m jumpy, that’s all.”

“Why are you jumpy?” he asks as they weave through a particularly dark part of the path. The sounds of wild animals howling in the distance prick Ryuk’s ears up. He turns to the misty woods, scans it again for foes. Again, nothing.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been bamboozled by a racist ficktard ink shadow, had my arm stolen, been zip-tied, carpet-rolled, dragged through the mud, slammed around by a fickin’ vine squid – and that’s just since second lunch! Then Mr. Trigger Happy Japanese Ramen Sushi Sandwich over here just about gives his only friend a Valhalsian tonsure.”

“You aren’t my only friend.” Ryuk stays behind his two guildmates, another marble in the pouch of his slingshot just in case there is actual trouble. He’s entered enough Tritanian towns after dark to know to come prepared. He’s no longer of the ninja class now, but he was one for long enough to have some of the abilities permanently engraved upon his psyche.

Hiccup calls back to him, “Well, maybe FeeTwix here is your friend too, but you’ve only known each other like five hours or something so you can’t be that close. Who am I missing?”

Don’t let him egg you on … Ryuk reminds himself. Too late. “Tamana is my friend.”

“Oh, that’s right! I forgot what all this was about. Okay then, pretty little Tamana. Tammy and Good Ol’ Uncle Goblin, your only two pals.”

FeeTwix, always the mediator, says, “You know, Ryuk, you’re polling quite high with my fans, which is a good thing. I’ve seen them get quite nasty about people I join up with. Now before you get all impressed with yourself, I do have to tell you that you’re not polling quite as high as Hiccup, but I think that’s mostly because Hiccup brings the comic relief, and the fans like to see him get hurt or do something stupid.”

“Hey!”

FeeTwix continues, “But people really seem to like you.” He turns to Ryuk and points at his eyes. Ryuk can see that they’re not recording. “Remember, most of them don’t know why we’re doing what we’re doing,” he explains, “I try to record in a way that leaves those details out. Once they do, I expect they’ll really start pulling for you. Romance sells, and everyone loves an underdog.” His eyes turn black and widen. “Approaching the town of Sotla, who knows what we will find!”

Hiccup tugs on FeeTwix’s sleeve. “How many people are watching right now?”

“A little over 600,000, my dearest goblin friend. Viewership declines when we’re not in battle, which is understandable.”

“We goblins got a phrase for that – bandwagon fickboys. Sounds like you have about 200,000 of them.”

Small cottages and farmhouses occur more and more frequently the closer they get to town. Most are all thatched roofs, cobblestone paths, and flowering window boxes back-lit by softly glowing candle light – the trademarked industrial quaintness and cookie-cutter individuality of KinkadeCo Proxima Properties. The occasional cottage is dark and empty-looking, and Ryuk wonders briefly about the places that don’t look lived in.

Do they belong to NPCs, or have player characters purchased them?

It is quite common for PCs to use real world money to buy digital, intangible real estate in Tritania. Some properties – especially those in Valhalla, the high-end fashion district of Porthos – can fetch upwards of fifteen to twenty million real world dollars. Location, location, location – and if you stick a price tag on it, some idiot will buy it.

“We’re here!” FeeTwix announces to his legion of fans. “Welcome to Sotla!”

Hiccup doesn’t even wait for the guards to swing the city gate all the way closed before he goes to bail on his guildmates. He clutches his groin a tad too enthusiastically with his brass hand, winces, and remarks, “Fick, don’t know my own strength yet. Anyways, fellas, as much as I’ve enjoyed our little sausage party, I need to take my own sausage to a party, if you get my drift.”

Ryuk looks blank; FeeTwix sniggers.

A passerby glances over at the Swede. He chuckles as he shakes his head and moves on.

With a theatrical roll of his eyes, the goblin elucidates. “A Yoshi ranch. A fancy house. The land of happy endings. Okay, a brothel. I need to visit a brothel, specifically one that has orc-gals.” His eyes unfocus for a moment as he murmurs, “Mmmm … orc-gals with nether teeth … ”

FeeTwix cringes at the word nether teeth.

The goblin shakes it off and resumes, “Might as well give you two the straight fickin’ scoop now that we’re guildmates and battle buddies and all – This ain’t my first rodeo, and it takes some pretty fancy bronco-busting to wet my willy if you catch my drift, but we can talk about that later.”

FeeTwix laughs. “Yes, you’ll have to go into great detail for me!”

“Later, Twixy, over a keg of Horse Piss.” Hiccup looks around for a moment, “... over there.” He points to the village square, a lovely open space with trees and flowers and chirping birds and a baroque fountain that features cherubs on unicorn-backs tastefully peeing into the central basin. “Tomorrow morning at the Hour of the Morning Wood … Just fickin’ with you, that’s too early. How about the Hour of the Morning Fire? Yeah that should be fine. Don’t be late, and if I’m late, wait for me.”

Ryuk starts to object but Hiccup silences him with a wave of his brass hand. “We all have our ways to recharge, Marbles, see you boys tomorrow.”

With that, the goblin heads east towards the small town’s tenderloin.

(0)__(0)

“Let’s head to the general goods store.” FeeTwix takes the lead, and quickly stops when he hears Ryuk curse. “What is it?”

He punches his fist into his hand. “That miserable fucking goblin grabbed half of the rupees that we scored in the storm shelter! How did he even do it? I put control panel locks on the funds knowing that he’d try to get more than his cut.”

“Did you promise him a cut?”

“I promised him 3%, which I will gladly give him.”

Their conversation is interrupted by a man pulling a rickshaw. Comfortably ensconced in the rickshaw are a pair of starry-eyed elven NPCs. “Make way for the honeymooners,” the runner shouts. “Honeymooners here! Make way!”

“Honeymooners?” Ryuk watches the runner weave in and out of the pedestrian traffic in the town square. There isn’t much, but he does have to pay attention to the mobile obstructions.

FeeTwix takes a mirror from his front pocket. “Anyone?” he asks his own reflection. “Ah, I see.” He returns the mirror. “My peeps say that there is a famous natural spring around here that’s noted for enhancing … um … endurance and fertility, which has made Sotla a popular honeymoon destination.

He jerks his thumb to the west and Ryuk notices the dozens of elaborately designed hotels that are situated on two narrow lanes. Their signs are illuminated by twinkling fireflies and advertise their various romantic amenities – from hot tubs in each room to something called a lube slide.

A tall, slender woman in form-fitting armor walks towards them. She stops and a breeze ruffles her short orange mop.

“She looks interesting.” FeeTwix nods his head up and down as he reads messages from his followers. “Oh I see, she’s a Thulean!” he says just a bit too loud.

Thulean Juvenile Level 11

HP: 308/308

ATK: 89

MATK: 8

DEF: 78

MDF: 43

LUCK: 14

She glances at Ryuk, executes a perfect cartoon double-take, draws two short swords and charges. Ryuk gets a knife marble in the air, which she flicks aside with a casual sweep of her sword. With barbwire baseball bat in hand, FeeTwix moves in a-swinging, only to be lifted in the air by an invisible force and slammed into the ground.

FeeTwix: What the hell was that?

Ryuk: Using her ghost limbs!

The Thulean descends upon Ryuk with both her short swords. He parries, and brings up his forearm as the armor fans out to shield him. Another dodge and duck and Ryuk is inside her reach. She spins to meet him as Ryuk crosses his arms over his head in a defensive X.

“We don’t want to fight you!”

The orange-haired warrior strikes with both blades and again his armor morphs to meet her attack. She grunts, grimaces, bears down on him and he just manages to kick her off.

FeeTwix: So that’s what ghost limbs are? COOL! Fans to the rescue!

The Thulean brings her blades down again and again Ryuk catches them with his armor. She lifts her leg up lightning fast and spin kicks him right in the face: -32 HP!

His vision pane flashes as he stumbles left and hits the dirt. He’s still okay for hit points, but a boot to the noggin is still a bell-ringer. He fumbles out a clear marble, zings it on its way and gets the sword mistress with a good, solid hit.

The town freezes all around him.

Individual droplets of cherub piss hang suspended in midair; the rickshaw man stands motionless, poised in mid-step.

A time marble!

Ryuk hops to his feet, palms a knife marble, steps in front of the intransigent warrior and aims right for her scaly, green-tinged throat. He waits for time to resume its normal pace so he can end this foolishness.

Well, he thinks, then again maybe not. It would probably be a better idea to interrogate her first and maybe kill her later, if necessary. He sighs, returns the knife marble to its pouch, equips a black marble and aims just in front of her.

Time undilates, the marble explodes and takes the Thulean warrior off her feet. FeeTwix sports an oversized blunderbuss, and as their orange-haired adversary struggles to regain her feet, he blasts her with it.

A bolo net wraps her up like a kosher-vegan-halal salami and takes her back to the ground.

In a conversational tone, FeeTwix warns her, “The net’s self-tightening monomolecular diamond wire, so you probably want to stop struggling before it slices you into sashimi.”

“Release me now, commoner scum,” she demands. “NOW!”

FeeTwix crouches in front of her and offers her a friendly and disarming grin. “All in good time, all in good time. You attacked us first, remember?”

She moves and hisses in pain as the diamond wire tightens.

“Anyone recognize her?” he asks his audience, his eyes black. He reads responses for a moment as Ryuk crouches down and considers her for a moment.

“What’s up with attacking us for no reason?”

“Not no reason. I thought you were an enemy, and clearly you are!” Her ghost limbs strain against the net, and again she hisses in distress.

“Seriously, what part of self-tightening diamond wire don’t you understand?” FeeTwix asks.

Ryuk: I’m sure your fans have already told you this, but if we kill her, every Thulean this side of Ultima Thule will be on our asses.

FeeTwix: They mentioned that, yeah.

Ryuk: What did your fans say?

FeeTwix: They said to question her.

Ryuk: That’s what I was thinking.

Ryuk examines her more closely, and can see how her chainmail armor is relieved to accommodate her invisible ghost limbs; the vestigial remnants of their dragon ancestor’s wings.

“Give us your word of honor that you will cooperate and we’ll release you,” Ryuk finally tells her.

She frowns and narrows her eyes to orange slits. “I swear not to immediately kill you; I make no promises beyond that.”

FeeTwix shrugs, makes the don’t ask me face.

“It’ll have to do,” Ryuk sighs.

(0)__(x)

The Thulean stands and adjusts her armor and accoutrements. “This way,” she directs them.

“Aren’t you going to tell us why you attacked us?” Ryuk asks.

“This way.” With her head held high she turns towards the string of love hotels gently illuminated by a silver moon.

Ryuk: Keep some type of weapon equipped. She may be leading us into a trap.

FeeTwix equips a black Desert Eagle in .50 Action Express and tucks it into the back of his pants. “What?” he whispers as they follow the Thulean. “You said to stay frosty.”

They temporarily lose sight of her when a cabriolet drawn by a clipped-wing Pegasus passes in front of them. Another set of newlyweds snuggle in the back, the man with his hand up under her wedding gown and a wolfish leer plastered on his face as she radiates waves of unease and uncertainty.

Yikes, Ryuk thinks.

The carriage passes and they catch up to the Thulean, who carries herself with the serene self-assurance of the grandest tiger in the jungle.

It troubles Ryuk that they so easily overcame the woman; even at low levels, Thuleans are notoriously skilled combatants and are usually much stronger than the average player.

Something wasn’t right; Thuleans are a snooty and exclusionary group. A player can’t select a Thulean avatar; there aren’t any. The Thuleans all either NPCs or Reborn Player Characters, and just being an RPC doesn’t automatically get you in either – there’s an interview and a waiting list of up to year, last time Ryuk checked.

They think they’re the one per cent; most everybody else thinks they’re an over-rated bunch of scaly assholes. Even so, there are plenty of RPCs who are simply marking time until a new Thulean avatar becomes available. Most of them hang out in Valhalla, but they can be anywhere, really.

Their erstwhile foe leads them to a rose-red, horseshoe-shaped love hotel. Softly glowing love seats and topiary rose bushes border a decorative path that cuts through its center. An intricately carved, sled-shaped sign proclaims the hotel to be The Rosebud.

“Why are we here?” FeeTwix inquires.

“This is where I’m staying.”

Another message from FeeTwix appears on Ryuk’s vision pane.

FeeTwix: This is great! A big, strapping Thulean babe brought us to a love hotel! My fans are going insane!

Ryuk: I guess it does look a little strange …

She stops at the front door and turns to them. “Well? Are you two going to stand outside and look stupid, or are you going to come in … and look stupid?”

“You know this is like … um … a love hotel, right?” Ryuk asks.

She sighs, puts fists on hips and shakes her head. “Yes. Yes, I know this is like … um … a love hotel. This is Sotla; there are no inns here, just love hotels, and at least this one has a fairly decent restaurant.”

The lobby of the love hotel reeks of ambiance. It’s dimly lit and features dark red furniture and a clerestory of heart-shaped windows.

The desk clerk doesn’t bat an eye at the thin, seven foot tall Thulean swordswoman with two young, handsome-ish guys in tow. This is probably the second tamest thing he’s seen all day; he merely nods at the trio and returns to his leather bound copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover.

“The restaurant is this way.” The Thulean leads the two down a small flight of stairs and into a narrow corridor.

A hostess in a black and white dress with mouton sleeves and hoop skirt curtsies in greeting and launches into her well-rehearsed spiel: “Welcome young lovers! For your dining and amative enjoyment this evening, we have available La Room de Boom-Boom, La chambre de votre premier amour, La chambre de l'amour sans fin, and La salle d'une liaison!” She gives Ryuk a knowing wink. “May I suggest La Room de Boom-Boom? It is … ” Eyes wide, she places her hands over her mouth and giggles.

“It’s what?” FeeTwix asks.

She throws her hands out. “Scandaleux!”

“Enough,” the Thulean female narrows her eyes on the hostess. “Which room is most comfortable for three?”

“Pour trois?” She speaks to herself in French for a moment.

“What’s she saying?” Ryuk asks FeeTwix.

More importantly, why aren’t things being translated in real-time? Everyone in Tritania shares a common tongue, which is whatever language they speak natively. The only language not translated in real-time is Thulean, and there are apps and magical devices for that. In actuality, when Ryuk speaks to FeeTwix, he speaks in Japanese, which is then translated into Swedish. When FeeTwix replies in Swedish, it’s immediately translated to Japanese.

“She’s speaking nonsense, otherwise.” FeeTwix smiles briskly at the hostess. “We will take the Amor Sans Fin Chambre.”

“Magnifique!” Careful of her hoop skirt, the hostess turns to the long corridor. “Madame, Messieurs, follow me if you please.” She chuckles to herself as she leads them down the long corridor. She arrives at a waist-high door and crouches. Her key ring jingles as she searches for the right key, opens the door and duck-walks through, which is no mean feat in a hoop skirt.

“Why is the door so short?” asks Ryuk.

FeeTwix shrugs. “I think it may be some sort of architectural commentary on endless love or something. That’s my guess, anyway.” He follows their hostess’ example, as does Ryuk. The Thulean crouches but is still too tall; instead, she drops to her knees and crawls in.

They’re greeted by the soothing sound of gently tinkling water; the room features an artfully constructed water wall that that feeds into a heated pool. A metal towel rack with big, fluffy pink towels sits within convenient reach.

The hostess twitches her nose and an ornately carved hearts, flowers, and cigar-smoking cupids with hammer and sickle sashes-themed wooden table and three well-upholstered stools appear.

“It’s so romantic, is it not?” She flutters her hand over her heart and pretends to swoon. “Oh! Allow me to fetch some complimentary appetizers before I get ahead of myself. Please, be seated and make yourselves comfortable.”

She curtsies, backs away from them, and unerringly duck-walks backward through the child-sized entrance, hoop skirt and all.

Their warrior woman associate gives them a thin and humorless smile.

“We should start with names. You can call me Zaena.”

“Ryuk.”

“FeeTwix,” he says as his eyes morph blue.

“Good, Ryuk the Ballistics Mage and FeeTwix the Berserker Mystic.” Her expression remains carefully neutral as she continues, “You wish to know why I attacked you.”

“We can start there.” FeeTwix nods, brings his gloved hands onto the table and laces his fingers together.

“You attacked me first.”

FeeTwix raises an eyebrow. “I think you have us confused with some other players.”

She ruffles her hair with one long-fingered hand. “You weren’t there, but he was,” she indicates Ryuk with the DisNike two-finger point. “Earlier today, a powerful Ballistics Mage – who looks just like you – and some sell-sword scum attacked me.”

“Me? That’s impossible.”

“Do you know where Jatla is?” she asks.

“I seriously wish I didn’t. Our guildhall is there.”

“It was near there, in the piney forest that separates Jatla from the rest of the continent.”

“Well, it wasn’t us,” FeeTwix assures her.

“Yes, I know that now, especially after the crap fight you put up.”

FeeTwix shakes his head in disbelief. “You realize we beat you back there, right?”

She holds her chin high. “No. I let you win.”

“Revisionist history,” FeeTwix coughs into his hand.

“Bonjour!” The hostess returns with a tray of macaroons and tiny squares of opera cake. She giggles as she places them on the table and quickly promises to return with beverages.

Zaena uses one of her ghost limbs to reach for a square of cake. To FeeTwix and Ryuk, it looks like the cake is magically floating in the air. Ryuk selects a macaroon and downs it in one bite. A feeling of warmth and euphoria spreads through him.

What’s in these pastries? He looks at them again and sees that each pastry has the faintest of faint yellow outlines.

Skill level up!

Skill: Magic Eye

Level Two: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the wiktionary of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. A yellow outline signals that an object is enchanted.

Requirements: Level 4 Mage, LUCK > 5.

The Thulean takes a dainty nibble from her cake. “As I said, I let you win.”

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes narrow on Ryuk. She bristles. “Excuse me?”

“This isn’t my first avatar; I’ve spent a lot of time on Ultima Thule and I know for a fact, that Thuleans don’t back down.”

“I didn’t back down; I let you win to end it.”

“That’s backing down.”

She huffs and rolls her orange eyes. “Once I knew you two weren’t the ones who’d attacked me, I ended the fight.”

“That’s not how it really played out,” FeeTwix says, “but sure, if that’s how you want to spin it, fine, you didn’t back down. Personally, I’m more interested in your statement about a Ryuk doppelgänger in the forest outside Jatla. How is it that they didn’t kill you?”

“I got lucky. They had a prisoner, a female White Warrior. She head-butted one and kicked the knee of the Ballistics Mage, which distracted him in a major way. I killed the two sell-swords and the Ballistics Mage fled with his prisoner. It is safe to say that she probably saved me.”

“A female White Warrior? What did she look like?” Ryuk is suddenly eyes front and attention fully focused. Could it be?

“Long white hair with thin braids behind her ear, cheap armor typical of a new avatar. She had a sheath for a sword of unusual size, but the sword was missing.”

“Is it her?” FeeTwix asks him. “Did your friend have the braid?”

“It was Tamana, it has to be!”

“Who?” Zaena asks.

Ryuk takes a deep breath and says, “It was our friend, I mean my friend, who saved you.”

(x)__(x)

Ryuk explains it all, from Tamana’s attack and subsequent death in the real world to her kidnapping here by the Shinigami. He is briefly interrupted by the hostess, who brings hot tea for the three in a Drukpa Kunley-themed samovar. She simpers, curtsies, giggles again, and leaves as quickly as she came.

“Do you know what hour you logged in?” Zaena asks Ryuk soon as the hostess is gone.

“At the Hour of the Water.”

“And I was assaulted at half past Water.” Zaena admires another macaroon. “These really are lovely, aren’t they?” She pops it in her mouth.  “I told you this place was decent; too bad all their food is spiked with aphrodisiacs. Luckily, most herbs have no effect on Thuleans, at least they are not supposed to.” In goes another macaroon. Zaena’s eyes seem to unsquint a little. They’re still straight little lines, but their edges have softened some. “And what is the name of your guild?”

“Right now we’re calling ourselves the Mitherfickers. The third member is a goblin named Hiccup.”

Ryuk kicks FeeTwix under the table. “That’s not our name!” he hisses.

“The Mitherfickers, huh?” Zaena chuckles. “Most amusing, in a vulgar and guttersnipe sort of way. I believe that Gob-swearing will be all the rage in the not-too-distant future, so you two have got a leg up on the trend. Should I instead say three of you? Where is the goblin you spoke of earlier?”

“Probably having his chalupa waxed by an orc lap dancer right about now,” FeeTwix snorts.

“Having what done to his what by a what?”

Ryuk to the rescue. “Never mind. We’re supposed to meet him tomorrow morning, at the Hour of the Morning Fire.”

She looks him over for a minute as she nibbles another macaroon. “These are simply wonderful! You know, for a pair of soft, weak, inept, clumsy, bumbling low-level commoner stumble-bums, you suck less than many.”

“You’re only level 11,” FeeTwix reminds her.

She ignores him and focuses on Ryuk. “And your armor, that’s dream armor, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He touches the iridescent epaulet over his right shoulder; it’s warm to the touch.

“I’ve seen it before, on a higher level and much more skilled warrior of course; it’s really quite powerful. You should really take it to a master armorer or a weapons master to have it matched to your aura, but if you’re willing to spend the rupees it’ll be well worth it.” She turns to FeeTwix. “You, I understand. A new avatar with money to burn on fashion statements and non-conventional weaponry.”

FeeTwix’s eyes flicker black.

“And your eyes?” She cocks her head to the right. “It feels like your eyes are the windows into thousands of souls, and all of them are watching me.”

FeeTwix shrugs her off and she returns her attention to Ryuk. “You shot me with something that froze time, correct?”

“A time marble.”

She ghost limbs up a napkin and daintily dabs the macaroon crumbs from her lips. “You aren’t experienced enough to wield time marbles.”

“I actually used a clear marble, which is a wild card. It can be anything and has been helpful and … not so helpful in the past.”

“Indeed. Thus it is with those. What other types of marbles do you have?”

“Knife marbles, exploding black marbles, and clear marbles.”

“You need something to cast them with more force,” she states in a matter-of-fact voice. “Your slingshot is a toy for children.”

“I’m aware.”

FeeTwix claps his hand on Ryuk’s shoulder. “Talk about a convenient segue! A fan just sent me a prototype of something she’s been working on for you. Check out the image.”

Ryuk raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Do I even need to ask?”

“Notice the lack of trigger? That helps get around the firearms penalty.” FeeTwix pulls his shooting iron from the back of his pants and places it on the table. “My Desert Eagle, .50 Action Express. Now this – this is a firearm, as described by the Tritanian bylaws, which define ‘firearm’ as any instrument or device that uses an explosive reaction to propel a projectile through a barrel or tube.”

He gestures to the image. “This – shaped like a firearm, looks like a firearm, but not a firearm. No moving parts – no trigger, no explosive propulsion.”

Ryuk is singularly unimpressed. “So it’s a club. A short-handled, badly angled club.”

“Ah, not so, my friend.” FeeTwix grins, “It uses energetic thaumaturgial linear acceleration to boost your magic marbles to über-sonic velocities. And the best part?”

Ryuk gives him a skeptical look as FeeTwix taps his finger against his temple. “It is triggered with the power of your mind, Young Padawan. That’s all the weaponsmistress said about it; my guess is that it’ll be ready soon.” He swipes the image away.

“Interesting.”

The Desert Eagle suddenly floats in the air. In a calm and soothing tone, FeeTwix says “We’ll all be much happier if you point that away from us and put it back on the table.”

“Hmmmm … ” She transfers the gun between her ghost limb and her hand. The hammer’s cocked, the safety is on, and her finger is all over the trigger. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryuk sees FeeTwix’s finger move behind his back.

Scrolling behind his back?

A short-barreled Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum revolver appears in his hand. Without appearing to, he keeps his eyes on Zaena, casually returns his hand to his lap, and aims the hand-howitzer at her from under the table.

“I really don’t know how to use this thing,” she tells him, “well, aside from pulling the trigger.”

She flicks the safety off with her thumb, and with finger still on the trigger, doesn’t quite point the weapon at the pair of them.

The hair on the back of Ryuk’s neck stands to attention, and he hears the distinctive click-click as FeeTwix thumbs back the hammer on the big Smith in his lap. Zaena grins, and with the delicate grace of a careful drunk setting down a Ming vase full of nitroglycerin, she returns the weapon to the table.

Another macaroon lifts into the air and she takes a bite. With his off hand, FeeTwix grabs the gun and returns it to his inventory list. His revolver, however, remains unreturned and pointed at the Thulean’s heart.

“So there are only three in your guild, correct?” Zaena asks. “I mean, not counting the kidnapped White Warrior.”

“That’s right.” Ryuk’s nerves calm, but only slightly.

“And you’re meeting the goblin at the Hour of the Morning Fire tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.”

“And where will you go from there?”

“We will level up some more,” he answers. “We’re supposed to meet the Shinigami in Aramis in two days now.”

“Do you know where you’re supposed to meet them?” she asks.

Ryuk looks to FeeTwix.

He jumps as a hand brushes against his shoulder; the Thulean has left her seat

“Well, it was interesting speaking with both of you,” she says.

“You’re leaving?” FeeTwix asks. “Just like that?”

“Just like this,” she yawns. “It has been a long day, and I’d better get some rest.” She strides to the waist-high door, pauses, and turns back to the two with a half-smile. “What? Did I even mention joining up with you?”

Before either of them can formulate a reply, she pops open the door and is gone.

Chapter 11: Back to life, back to reality

To recharge their avatars, Ryuk and FeeTwix book a room in the love hotel.

Without so much as a raised eyebrow or askance glance, the front desk hospitality host tells them that there is only one room available, the heart-shaped Salle d’Amour featuring a heart-shaped bed, heart-shaped throw pillows, heart-shaped candles, heart-shaped water-based lubricant dispensers, heart-shaped vibrating novelty toys, heart-shaped towels, loofahs, sponges, and a single bar of soap shaped like a spleen. From floor to ceiling and wall-to-wall, the heart motif is displayed with the same pernicious ubiquity that the North Koreans give their current juche pimp’s portraiture.

“I’m logging out,” Ryuk announces. “I’ll be back in at the Hour of the Morning Fire.”

FeeTwix plops onto the bed and his eyes go from black to blue. “It’s been a long time since I spent the night at a love hotel. Fun places, really.”

“You’ve stayed in one?” Ryuk asks.

“I’ve visited South Korea several times for Proxima conferences. I have a pretty big following there, especially in Busan. So yeah, I have. You must have as well, being from Japan and all.”

“Not all Japanese stay in love hotels.”

“Sure, and not all Swedes have blue eyes and blonde hair.” FeeTwix places his hands behind his head.

“I will see you in the morning.” Ryuk offers FeeTwix a small bow. He logs out before his guildmate can say anything else.

As the wave lengths on the inside of his NV Visor slow to a crawl, Ryuk slowly becomes aware of his surroundings. It’s almost three in the morning in Tokyo, and his mouth tastes like the entire cast of the all-orc version of Riverdance has tap danced through it barefoot.

He removes the NV Visor and stands on wobbly legs. He yawns, stretches, and rolls his head on his neck. A half-finished water bottle on his nightstand diminishes the orc-flavor somewhat, and he’s just getting into bed when he notices the stygian outline of someone sitting seiza in front of his bedroom door.

“Hajime!”

The humandroid’s eyes open. “Ryuk.”

“You scared me!”

“I dismissed Kodai’s men; it’s safer if I am in the room with you.”

“Just stay in the living room, like you normally do.” Ryuk props a pillow up so he can sit with his back against the headboard. “It’s stupid. You know how much protection I have. And for what?” He kicks his legs onto his bed.

Hajime considers his statement for a moment and says, “The man who sleeps with a machete under his pillow is thought foolish until the one time that he isn’t.”

“I remember you telling me that once before, but with a gun.”

“A gun is even better. How is the ultimate quest going?”

“Just leveling now. We encountered a Thulean warrior woman who was attacked by the Shinigami. They had Tamana, and one of the players looked just like me.”

“A doppelgänger? Intriguing. More intriguing still is that they refer to themselves as ‘gods of death’. And this Thulean female, what of her?”

“I really don’t know. She attacked us because she thought I was the evil Ryuk, and she played with FeeTwix’s gun a little bit, but other than that, she didn’t seem too bad.”

Hajime is silent for a moment. “And tomorrow’s plans?”

“More leveling up. If I can get to Tamana, I’ll be able to figure out what happened to her.”

“Wants and needs, wants and needs.”

“Excuse me?”

“You should rest,” Hajime says after a short pause. “Your training begins in four hours.”

“My training?”

“Goodnight.” Hajime stands, bows, and exits the room. Ryuk can hear him sit down on the other side of the door.

My training?

The familiar smell of Hajime’s Nag Champa incense drifts in from the living room. Ryuk rolls to his side and focuses his attention on a glowing icon on the bottom of his iNet screen; a reminder that a new episode of an anime set in Tritania called Flight Feet,フライトフィート, has just been released, a show loosely based on some of the more infamous quests undertaken within the game.

The icon senses his attention; the show is painted across the inside of his eyelids. In the latest episode, a group of mercenary forest ninjas and their leader, a buxom elf wench with blue hair, fight their way through the Attla Forest with a goal of collecting Attla spider venom to use in a future battle against their rival guild.

It’s a tried and true story line, based on something the Knights of Non Compos Mentis did years ago, in the distant past before Ryuk was born.

He fights to stay awake to finish the episode, but struggles in vain. The last troubling thought on his mind before sleep takes him is about Tamana – he should have done something more to save her.

He should have done something.

(0)__(0)

A prompt from Hajime wakes Ryuk:

Ryuk selects option two.

He rolls to the right, and even with eyes still closed, a beam of morning sunshine sears his rods and cones. Covering his face with a pillow is the only logical action, but he’s awake enough at this point to check a few feeds he follows on GoogleFace Line. He’s deluged with non-news, celebutard oopsies and lolcats, and reaches his threshold of annoyance pretty quickly. He rises, scuffs into his slippers, and heads straight to the bathroom.

Examing himself in the mirror, Ryuk runs his hand through his black mop of hair and tries to smooth out that damn cowlick one more time.

He splashes cold water on his face and jolts himself slightly more awake. The delicate scent of gently bubbling miso broth meets his nostrils, beckoning him to the kitchen.

His stomach feels particularly empty, but he decides he has enough time to shower. He frees himself from yesterday’s clothes, adjusts the water temperature and seats himself on the plastic stool under the showerhead.

The steam billows around him and the image of Tamana leaping in front of the train flashes before his mind’s eye. He does his best to push it away as he lathers his hair, and the warm water sluices down his face, runs down his chest and back and twists to the drain.

With eyes still closed, he’s eventually distracted by a game of Pong on his iNet screen against some anonymous player in his apartment building.

The mystery opponent defeats him in no time, and he finishes his shower and towels off.

Ryuk changes into a pair of black jeans, dark gray shirt and his favorite black sweater, which he bought a few months back at a Uniqlo boutique. He was with Tamana at the time; Hajime wasn’t yet part of his entourage, but he had others outside the store keeping an eye on him.

“Is it too cold?” Hajime asks as Ryuk enters the dining area and sits.

“No.”

“I can turn the heat on.”

“I’m fine; I like the sweater.”

Hajime places a clay bowl of miso soup in front of him. “Careful, it is hot.”

After he sets the temaki rolls down, Ryuk goes to town. As he eats, Hajime begins rearranging things in the living room.

“I would like you to turn off your iNet feed for the next hour,” the humandroid tells him. “We will start your training as soon as you finish breakfast.”

“Isn’t that kind of a bad idea?” Ryuk asks. “I mean, for my stomach.”

“Have you turned it off yet?”

Ryuk checks the Tritania player boards once more, checks to see if he has a message from anyone – he doesn’t. A prompt appears asking him if he is sure he’d like to log off and he selects ‘yes’. None of this requires any physical action; his life chip is the neural lace that allows him to do any number of things through the symbiosis between brain and technology.

A small power icon now glows in the bottom right hand quadrant of his pane of vision, reminding him that he can log back on anytime.

“It’s off.”

“Good. Now remove your food from your placemat and look beneath it.”

Ryuk does as instructed. Beneath his placemat he finds a card that reads: Emphasize differences.

“What’s this supposed to mean?” he asks.

“It’s your oblique card for the day.”

“I see … ” Ryuk finishes his soup. He gets the sudden urge to check iNet but a quick look at Hajime stops him. The humandroid pulls his hair back into a tiny ponytail; he rolls his head on his shoulders for a moment to loosen up.

After a quick glance around the room, he moves the glass coffee table clear to the far wall. “Are you finished yet?” he asks without looking at Ryuk.

“Finished.”

“Good. I want you to come over to me now. Stand directly in front of me.” Once Ryuk is standing in front of Hajime, the humandroid calmly places his arms at his sides. “Now, I want you to hit me.”

“Do what?” Ryuk can hardly believe his words.

“I want you to hit me, strike me, as if I were your brother and he had just punched you in the face. Come at me! hit me!”

Ryuk takes a step back.

“Hit me!” Hajime says again, louder this time. “Hit me!”

Ryuk takes his swing and at the very last second, Hajime steps aside. Ryuk tumbles forward and narrowly avoids colliding with the wall.

Hajime claps his hands together and gets into position. “Again.”

“I don’t see the point in this.”

“Again!”

Ryuk tries to lay Hajime out with a running swing. Hajime ducks just in time, almost as if he is slowly bending forward to bow.

“If you want me to hit you, stop moving!” Ryuk runs at Hajime again. He misgauges his step and Hajime catches him almost as an afterthought.

Ryuk pushes Hajime away. “I don’t want to learn Aikido.”

“I’m not teaching you Aikido; I’m teaching you about differences and how to emphasize them.”

He exhales forcibly. “This is stupid. You’re a humandroid; I’m sure you know my trajectory before I even start to swing.”

“I’ve turned off all my predictive capabilities when it comes to combat. In fact, I haven’t used them in nearly a year.”

“Really? Isn’t that … ” Ryuk thinks of the word. “Against protocol or something?”

“Try to attack me again, surprise me this time.”

Ryuk turns away from Hajime. “I need to log in.”

“Attack me!”

Ryuk pivots and brings his fist around; Hajime sweeps his legs out from beneath him.

Ryuk lands on his back and with a loud umph, the trauma forces his iNet system on. It scans his vitals, notes the changes in heart rate and body chemistry, and a flashing prompt asks him if he needs medical attention. It reminds him that he must give an answer or medical help will be sent to his location.

“Why did you do that?” Ryuk curls to his side as his stomach clenches and his inner ear shifts. He puts all of his focus on not upchucking right there in the living room.

“What are our differences?” he asks. “Have you ascertained the meaning of this morning’s oblique card?”

A few deep breaths in but Ryuk still feels nauseated, and the anger and frustration aren’t helping any – getting his ass handed to him in his own living room is not how he planned to start the day.

“I don’t know,” he grits, “this is stupid.”

Hajime helps him to his feet and in the same motion tosses him over his shoulder.

Whoof! Whatever air was in his body is gone again. Ryuk’s pulse pounds in his temples; his head feels like it’s about to explode. He moans, and again his gorge rises in his throat. He rolls to his knees and crawls to the bathroom.

Hajime follows close behind him, light on his feet as a helium cat in wool socks. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“Fuck you!” He kicks the bathroom door shut behind him. He goes for the toilet and makes unproductive gagging noises; he feels even more frustrated with himself for being so weak. Seething with anger now, he pulls himself up to the sink. He takes a good long look at himself in the mirror and …

Laughs.

His hair is a mess and still a little wet too, his skin is now blotchy, his pupils are tiny dots.He’s never actually seen himself in such an enraged state.

Sure, he’s seen himself depressed, mopey, tired, but never this angry. His laughter ends when he recalls why he’s in the bathroom – to vomit – and the fact that Hajime seems hell-bent on either beating the shit out of him or annoying him to death with his little oblique kōan.

He opens the door to give Hajime a piece of his mind only to find the humandroid in full headstand. “Do you think you can punch me now?”

Ryuk clenches his fist, looks down at it, and slowly lowers it to his side. “What’s the actual point of this?” he asks. “Just get to the point, Hajime, I need to log in soon and I’d like not to have a concussion when I do.”

“Were you laughing in there?” Hajime remains straight as a board, his hands clasped behind his head to create a perfect base.

Ryuk clears his throat. “Briefly.”

“Why?”

“Because I looked stupid when I’m angry.”

The humandroid’s legs remain perfectly straight, his feet angled so the tips of his big toes are touching. “I haven’t met a human yet who doesn’t look stupid when they are angry.”

“Good, so I was angry and I’m not now – still a little frustrated, but that will pass.” He shakes his head at the upside-down humandroid. “You may have given me a migraine, and you’re lucky I didn’t vomit.”

“No, you are lucky you didn’t vomit; I’m lucky I don’t have to cook more food for you.” Hajime arcs his legs backwards and brings himself back to his feet. He turns to Ryuk and offers him a peaceful grin. “I must know: You had an opening just a moment ago while I was in a headstand. It would have been hard for me to block you in that position, even with my physical advantage.”

Ryuk shrugs him off. “Look, Hajime, I really don’t understand what you’re trying to prove here.”

“I really want you to think about how the phrase ‘emphasize differences’ applies to what has happened here. That’s what all this was about.”

“How does the phrase have anything to do with me attacking you? It’s not like I could actually win.”

“You are indeed correct that you would not win in direct physical confrontation with me, but oddly enough, you declined to engage even after I offered you an easy attack.” Hajime smooths out the long sleeves of his robe. “Emphasizing our differences would lead you to believe that you couldn’t best me. Along the same thought process, emphasizing our differences led you to grant me mercy.”

Ryuk scratches the back of his head.

“Emphasizing differences is helpful in preparation, but knowing what you have in common with your enemy is equally helpful. In a headstand, both of us are disadvantaged. In the case of what just happened, emphasizing differences led to missing your opportunity to attack.”

Ryuk eyes him wearily for a moment. He’s pretty sure that Hajime would have performed some sort of hurricanrana if he had attempted anything.

“Now, I want you to sit for ten minutes and think about the two words.”

“Hajime … ”

“Ten minutes, then you can log in. We’ll discuss it more once you log out this afternoon.”

Ryuk clears his throat. “Actually, I wasn’t planning on logging out this afternoon.”

“You are now,” the humandroid says, “we need to do some research in regards to NPCs attacking people here in the real world. But first, ten minutes of silence, and no iNet.”

Chapter 12: Hanging coffins

‘Radio silence’ is an archaic term not often used in the hyper-connected 2070s, but the concept perfectly describes Ryuk’s brief experience with his moment of reflection. A small part of him hoped for it to last longer, but his ten minutes of disconnectivity ended almost as soon as they started.

Now in his haptic chair, he places the NV Visor on his head and adjusts its strap.

The sine waves begin their hypnotic dance, and Ryuk is prompted to select a spawning location. He chooses the love hotel, his last physical location in the game, and his avatar takes shape in the lobby after a few moments. He checks his stats and notices the change in defense with his dream armor.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 5 Ballistics Mage

HP: 213/213

ATK: 48

DEF: 47

MATK: 81

MDF: 24

LUCK: 6

The same hospitality host is behind the front desk, and as Ryuk heads to the Salle d’Amour, the deskman looks up from his book and calls after him. “Sir? Sir? SIR! Your friend has vacated your previous room and is now in room 309.”

“Why’d he do that?”

The clerk wipes his hands. “Sir, we here at the Rosebud never pry into our guests’ activities. Room 309 is where you’ll find him.”

“Thanks.” The circular stair case to the third floor features stylized paintings of idealized romantic couples – Kurt and Courtney, John and Yoko, Barrow and Parker, Stein and Toklas, Jack and Marilyn, Rivera and Kahlo, Edward and Wallis. Ryuk reads the nameplates as he passes; he has no idea who most of them are.

His staccato knock on 309’s door is answered by silence, then sudden thumping, shuffling, and FeeTwix calling out, “One minute!” More than a minute goes by before the door swings open and the Swede greets him, a fluffy white hotel towel clutched around his waist. He looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backward, rode hard, and put up wet.

“Ryuk! Shit! Um ...” FeeTwix double checks his towel to make sure he has adequately covered his digital junk.

“Who is it?” An unexpectedly familiar female voice asks.

Dude!

FeeTwix shuts the door, harrumphs, and steps into the hallway. “It’s not what it looks like … well, okay, it is what it looks like, but dammit Ryuk, I couldn’t resist!”

“Did you … um … video it?”

FeeTwix’s eyes are currently sky blue, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t black holes just a few minutes ago.

“Pfft! Are you kidding me? Of course I didn’t!”

Ryuk exhales audibly.

“I don’t see the big problem here.”

The door opens wide, but no one stands in the doorway. FeeTwix’s blonde hair ruffles seemingly on its own. “Oh, behave!” he calls over his shoulder.

Ryuk switches to messaging.

Ryuk: You do realize that Thuleans mate for life with one partner exclusively, and you’ve become that one partner, don’t you? Further, most older Thuleans are very disapproving of interspecies couples. So you’ll run into trouble, and since we are a guild, we’ll run into trouble. Had I known that you were going to visit her last night, I would have done everything I could to convince you otherwise. You are like a cat playing with fire!

FeeTwix: A cat playing with fire?

Ryuk: It’s a Japanese saying.

FeeTwix: Never heard it put that way.

“Who is it, FeeTwix?” Zaena calls out again.

“It’s Ryuk.” FeeTwix loses his grip on the towel and catches it just in time.

“So what now?”

“What now?” FeeTwix laughs. “You’re taking this too seriously, Ryuk. Now, Zaena joins our guild and we kick the Shinigami’s asses together. Speaking of which, we really need to meet Hiccup soon.”

Join our guild?

“Have you already asked her if she’d like to join us? Thuleans are not really the guild-joining type. There was only one in my last guild, and that was only because of his friendship with our leader, Sophia.”

“Actually, Zaena asked me if it’d be cool if she joined us.” He lowers his voice. “But since you’re the guild leader, it’s really up to you.”

Ryuk considers this for a moment. Regardless of the social issues, a Thulean in the ranks would give them instant access to the Thulean language – important on the other two floating continents – plus they are effective fighters, even at lower levels.

Emphasize differences. How does one actually do that? That’s one of those pithy epigrams like celebrate diversity or eschew obfuscation. Two humans, a goblin, and a Thulean certainly have plenty of differences to emphasize, but what does it actually mean? How is it supposed to help?

A prompt appears:

Zaena Morozon would like to join your guild. Will you allow it?

Ryuk cuts his philosophical quandary short and says, “Sure, she can join.”

Zaena Morozon, Level 11 Brawler Assassin, has joined your guild!

“Thanks, bud!” FeeTwix hops forward and gives Ryuk a quick hug. “All right, we’ll get some clothes on and then we’ll meet you in the town square. Oh, and no worries on healing potions, I’ll stock up before we meet you. It should only take a second.”

“Got it.” Ryuk says. “You should drink half of one or something before you meet us; you look beat to hell.”

FeeTwix eyeballs his scrapes, scratches, bruises, and amative contusions. ‘Yeah, but I sure had fun doing it. I’ll definitely do that. I’ll save the other half for Hiccup. Who knows what sort of debauchery he got into last night!”

(0)__(0)

A murder of silver Sotlian love crows caw and shriek and snap their beaks as they perch in the canopies of the trees that line the main boulevard.

Several bakeries stand with their doors open to the morning, and the air is thick with the enticing aroma of fresh baked pastries. Bakers’ assistants weave in and out of the crowds, enticing passers-by with free samples and BOGO scrolls.

As he makes his way to the meeting point, Ryuk’s thoughts bounce between the last time he and Tamana fought together in the game and watching her surrealistic slow-motion death by subway train.

Maybe if he had convinced her to stay logged in for longer, things would have played out differently. Maybe she’d be alive and who knows, maybe they’d be having breakfast right about now. There was a Cafe Colorado between their homes in Tokyo. A little cluttered, but nice. Maybe they’d be there now if she was still alive.

Emphasize differences. Ryuk is pretty sure Hajime’s pithy little oblique card simply means to know one’s enemy, even if the humandroid tries to make it sound like some deep philosophical insight or something. Then again, it could mean anything and maybe that is the implicit meaning – any situation applies.

The clock tower bell announces that it is indeed the Hour of the Morning Fire, and as it sounds, the love crows explode into the air, wheel, turn, and form ever-shifting Rorschach patterns of hidden deeper meanings.

Ryuk checks their group finances and discovers that the guild bank account is nearing rock bottom. Even with the cut that Hiccup stole, they should still be a couple thousand rupees up.

He kicks an acorn that has fallen from one of the trees in the square. I need to speak to a guild banker about putting authorized user controls on the guild’s funds.

He crunches the next acorn he sees and grinds it under his heel.

As he waits, Ryuk watches an NPC carriage driver have a one-sided argument with a magnificent white Clydesdale. The driver scolds the stubborn draft-horse to no avail. He pleads, cajoles and shakes his finger at the creature’s snout, tugs on the horse’s reins.

The impassive mountain of muscle snorts, tosses his head and refuses to budge. At least I’m not the only one with problems, Ryuk finds himself thinking, then he feels stupid for even thinking something so petty.

His hands in his pockets, he rocks back and forth on his heels, watching a particular cloud take shape that reminds him of Softbank’s curved equal sign logo. A prompt appears, asking him if he’d like to know more about SoftBank Quickstream InstaInvest Services.

Ryuk selects no and the ad flutters away.

Real world advertising is banned in some cities in the three floating continents of Tritania, but not all of them. The adverts target the average consumer rather than specific individuals, and they are much worse around major shopping hubs.

The only thing good about the advertising is that sometimes the corporate sponsors pay to have custom quests that offer exclusive, heavily logoed items as rewards.

Once, Ryuk completed a Jolt Cola sponsored quest that awarded him a pair of nunchucks that flashed the Jolt Cola logo and loudly announced ‘JOLT’ every time they connected with an enemy. He always felt like an unpaid corporate shill and would have scrapped the chucks, but they gave him 35% more attack power than whatever enemy he was up against. The chucks were, in three words, blatant yet badass.

A tap on his shoulder and Ryuk spins around with his slingshot aimed at the ready. He didn’t get a marble in the slingshot’s pouch, but it’s the thought that counts.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come from that direction,” he says as he lowers his ammo-less weapon. Something taps Ryuk’s right cheek. He’s just about to tell Zaena to keep her ghost limbs to herself when FeeTwix produces a canvas carrier bag.

“I got healing potions out the wazoo, all delivered to the hotel room, by the way, so we could get here in time. Call me fantasy Festivus Phil. Wait, do Japanese people celebrate Chrismahanukwanzivus?” He grins.

“Not in the way you think.”

“That reminds me, you don’t need any sort of marbles, do you?”

“They are unlimited. When I get a new marble, I also get a new pouch on my belt. As I’ve said before – well, I think I told you – my only limitation is my weapon.”

FeeTwix’s eyes turn blue. “Those will soon be problems of the past. The fan who’s making your marble gun messaged me, and she promises to have a working version by the end of the day, maybe sooner. She’s charging us for it, but I’ll pay her out of the royalties I’ll make for today’s advertisements. So no worries there; just expect just a bit more selling than normal.”

“You’re such a cutie.” Zaena pulls FeeTwix to her and kisses him. FeeTwix shoots Ryuk a thumb’s up mid-kiss.

“Another thing,” FeeTwix says, post-kiss, “well, just show him.”

Zaena smiles and her cheeks lift, raising the tips of her pointed ears through her orange mop of hair. She holds her hand out at Ryuk and drops her wrist, revealing an odd ring shaped like a wilted flower.

He gasps. “You’re engaged?”

FeeTwix’s eyes flash from black to blue. “What?! No! That’s not what that is.”

Zaena glances sharply from FeeTwix back to Ryuk. “It’s a Sotlian Pocket Sauna.” She touches the tip of the wilted flower and a sparkling ring of blue energy takes shape above her hand. “Touching it will transport us to a rejuvenating sauna that will heal our hit points completely, if we stay for thirty minutes.”

“And how many times can you use it per day?”

“Once, so we should use it wisely.”

Hiccup approaches the three wearing a dark gray robe with a hood that obscures his face but does nothing to conceal his rather unique style of ambulation. “Over here!” FeeTwix shouts and waves.

“For fick’s sake, Twixy! Why not break out the marching band with sparklers and Mardi Gras floats, why dontcha? How about a sign that reads HICCUP THE FICKIN’ GOBLIN?” He lowers his voice as his eyes dart left and right. “It’s like this: there are a couple of big-ass, bad-tempered orcs looking for me, and I’d really really really like to get the hell out of Sotla before they find me. Y’know – what happens in Sotla stays in Sotla, right?”

FeeTwix laughs. “Babe, this is Hiccup, the third – and surliest – member of the Mitherfickers. Check out his mechanical arm. Cool, huh?”

“I’m the second member, I’m not surly, and never mind the arm!”

Zaena rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“Seriously, we need to fickin’ leave now, as in right now, as in let’s go-go-GO!”

“Drink up, pal.” FeeTwix produces a half-finished healing potion. Hiccup’s fingers are tattered and crusted with dried blood; his nails are notable for their absence.

“What happened to your nails?” Ryuk asks.

“Lost them in a bet with an ink shadow. Can you believe that fickhole strung my nails on a necklace right in front of me? What kind of twisted sicko does that?” He chugs the potion and his nails re-form, but not as long and sharp as they used to be.

“I thought you were with some orc … um, entertainers or something,” Ryuk says.

“Look kid, one day when your balls drop, you’ll understand that sometimes a goblin’s gotta do what a goblin’s gotta do, and that when an opportunity presents itself, you go with it. After all, what’s life if it isn’t about losing stupid, painful bets and ending up in an orc’s den handcuffed and pony-pegged by a leather-clad slag while your chalupa is clamped in a bench vise?”

Ryuk gives him a confused look.

“Ha! Kidding, I’m kidding, that’s not what happened last night. Well, not all of it. Well, some of it. Actually most of that happened but that’s not important now. Um … ” He takes a deep breath. “Where was I?”

“Say hi to your fans,” FeeTwix says, his eyes suddenly black.

“Fans?”

FeeTwix taps his temple.

“Crap, early onset Goblinheimer’s is no joke, believe you me. Look, kiddos, as much as I’d love to fill you in on all the juicy details of last night, we really need to get out of town now. Like really. Seriously. Let’s go now. And Twixy, tell your fans to go fick themselves.”

Ryuk narrows his eyes at the goblin. “You spent all the rupees that you stole from our guild last night, didn’t you?”

“This isn’t the time to be talking about guild finances!”

Ryuk remains impassive, arms crossed across his chest.

Hiccup huffs and sighs. “But if we must … in short, yes, I spent all the money, but actually I spent much more than that, much, much more, and unless the Mitherfickers want to be responsible for covering my losses, we need to get the fick out of Sotla and never return.”

Zaena shoots FeeTwix a look of doubt and he shrugs.

“So sure, I spent all the rupees, but I’m also saving us a lot of rupees by having us leave right now. So in a way, we’ve come out ahead.”

Ryuk notices a trio of broad-shouldered, grim-visaged, armed and armored orc warriors moving steadily in their direction. One of them turns and calls for other orcs to join the hunt.

Ryuk sighs. “All right, we’d better go. Where to? Hills of Hillshire again?”

Zaena shakes her head. “The Jatla Forest, where I encountered the Shinigami. I was prompted to take a quest, but I was running solo and so I decided not to. There’s supposedly treasure in an abandoned ninja temple in the forest, and considering we have how much in our guild coffers … ”

“There he is!” One of the orcs calls out. As the orcs charge, the four Mitherfickers select a new spawning point and dematerialize just in time to avoid the attack.

(0)__(x)

“For the record,” Hiccup says as they take shape on the outskirts of the Jatla Forest, “I would have doubled our rupees, doubled, if that damn ink shadow hadn’t cheated me, just like the other one back at the cathedral. The dirty, stinking, lowdown cheating racist fickers; I swear they have it out for us goblins.”

Ryuk ignores Hiccup as he scans the forest, looking for any trace of magic. There isn’t any, but some of the trees have been uprooted and trampled. “So this is where you encountered the Shinigami?” he asks Zaena.

“It is, in the clearing over there.” She uses one of her ghost limbs to turn Ryuk’s chin toward the clearing. He notices this time that his skin prickles when she touches him; there’s something almost electric about it.

“Let’s check it out,” FeeTwix says.

There are no overt signs of battle in the clearing, but the uprooted trees are mature specimens, and whatever’s smashed them aside is by no means little.

“This is the spot where I spawned out of here,” she explains, “and not a moment too soon. Careful of that hole in the ground, goblin.”

“The name is Hiccup, and I believe we haven’t met yet and seriously, Twixy, who the fick is the Thulean and why is she with us? Whatever happened to extreme vetting? Sure, I should have asked earlier, but my attention was otherwise focused, orc-wise.”

Her nostrils flare as her orange slit eyes settle on the goblin. “Chain duchitekcha.”

“Dolakh charnekh slumdokh motikh,” Hiccup snorts.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “You speak Thulean!”

“Better than you, probably. You think just because I’m a goblin, I’m nothing but a low-life, lamebrain, ass-scratching, booger-eating moron with indifferent personal hygiene?” he says, as he scratches his ass.

“Well … yes – you’re a goblin,” She shakes off her surprise. “However, call me a lazy animal in heat again at your own peril.”

Hiccup rolls his eyes. “Pfft! Big scary Thulean gonna be my future murderer, eh? I’ve stepped on bigger lizards than you … Ha! Liz! Now there’s a nickname I can get behind!”

They lock eyes – and she looks away first.

Ryuk and FeeTwix exchange looks – there’s more to their goblin compadre than is readily apparent at first glance.

Movement in the forest; Ryuk is the first with his weapon up.

A bear the size of an aeros minivan tears out of the shrubbery. A thick leathery shell covers its back, with bands of yellow, orange and light brown. The armor extends up the creature’s neck and forms a series of sharp spikes around its eyes and forehead. The creature roars; the birds in the trees startle and scatter into panicked flight.

Bearadillo Level 15

HP: 412/412

ATK: 124

DEF: 267

MATK: 0

MDF: 293

LUCK: 2

Ryuk zips two knife marbles and the bearadillo’s carapace shrugs them off like raindrops. Up next, Zaena flings her two short swords into the air and charges the mahoosive creature. She snags the swords with her ghost limbs, leaps and drives them against the bearadillo’s hardened shell.

Her swords skid off without penetrating, and she narrowly avoids a slashing counterblow from the creature’s claws.

A prompt appears before FeeTwix and he swipes it away:

“Really guys?” he asks the clouds. A wheelchair takes shape in front of him and he grabs the handles.

“Oh no!” FeeTwix yells and points behind Hiccup, “Ghosts!”

“Where?” The plasmophobic goblin shrieks and whirls to look where FeeTwix points. “Oh no, oh fick no!”

FeeTwix charges his distracted guildmate, scoops him up in the wheelchair and sprints past the bearadillo while Hiccup shrieks like a lunch whistle.

The massive armored omnivore focuses on noise and motion, turns and lumbers after its noisy rolling snack. As it picks up speed, it gets its armored tail up for added stability, giving Ryuk the chance to sling an explosive surprise right into its exposed anus.

-123 HP!

New skill learned!

Skill: Cherry Poppin’ Daddy

Level One: 1 in 11 chance of connecting. Enemy’s backside must be exposed. Higher levels increase damage and chance for an instakill.

Damage: 35% if enemy is less than level 30; 13% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 13%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 7

The bearadillo’s front feet skid out from under it; it howls in pain and whirls to face the source of its torment. Zaena uses her ghost limbs like invisible stilts to increase her speed, and with swords out, hurls herself at the creature. The enraged beast rears up and smashes her out of the air; she plows into the underbrush in an uncontrolled cartwheel.

“Oh SHIT! Zaena!” FeeTwix shouts. Double-bladed sword in hand, he turns to face the creature.

From out of nowhere, Hiccup races in, swings a double-bitted war axe into the bearadillo’s butt wound and barely avoids the armored predator’s answering mule-kick.

-38 HP!

“Attack the hole in its ass!” Hiccup equips a plumbata, runs back in and heaves the oversized dart at the bearadillo’s vulnerable spot. Another direct hit and the creature shrieks in agony.

-36 HP!

“Attack its ass! Attack its ass!”

FeeTwix: His underside is vulnerable too!

Ryuk: But we can’t get under there …

FeeTwix: Fire as many explosive marbles as you can at his feet. Maybe we can flip it!

Ryuk responds with four black marbles, the most he’s ever loaded in his magic slingshot at a single time. He feels the slingshot’s handle warm up as he pulls back on the pouch. Aiming just in front of the bearadillo’s oversized paws, he pulls back a teensy bit further and sends the four marbles on their way.

The slingshot is suddenly too hot to the touch, and he drops it just as the marbles explode.

-23 HP!

The bearadillo falls to its side and FeeTwix descends upon the creature with his double-bladed sword. He stabs it repeatedly where its heart should be; with a running leap, Hiccup brings his axe down hard on the creature’s soft underbelly.

The beast roars and thrashes.

Zaena limps in to get some of her own back. The work is grim, and in a final welter of guts and blood, the monster expires. Zaena instantly levels up, and the guild is awarded a measly thirty-one rupees.

“I hate these things,” Hiccup says, “they’re mean, ugly, vicious, and really, really hard to kill. Cheap fickers too.”

(x)__(x)

FeeTwix mops the perspiration from his eyes.

“I was hoping the big bastard had at least a hundred rupees in him. Everyone good on health?” He breathes heavily as a mirror appears in his hand. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the ships at sea! If you’re viewing our live feed from anywhere in the fifty-three states or are watching the recorded version any time in the next twenty-four hours from now, CVSgreens is having a flash sale on all Katy Kat Covergirl cosmetics. Just mention ‘FeeTwixRox’ at the point of purchase to take advantage of the savings! Terms and conditions do apply. See physical store or check online for details.”

FeeTwix vamooses the mirror and his eyes turn blue. “Sorry guys, I told you I had to double up on ads today to pay for Ryuk’s new gun,” he says, still catching his breath.

Ryuk approaches his slingshot and picks it up. The weapon is cool to the touch again.

“Before we move on, we should probably take the bearadillo’s hide.” A stag-handled Bowie knife appears in Hiccup’s paw. “A little help then, Liz?”

She gives him the stink-eye, and manifests two curved swords in her ghost limbs. She now holds four weapons, two floating above her head. “I don’t normally skin animals.”

“Well, I don’t normally find myself kicking ass and taking names at the Hour of the Morning Bear – Ha! Morning Bear – but this bear ain’t gonna skin itself this morning, so let’s get stuck in, princess.”

Her eyes narrow on him. “What did you call me,” she hisses.

“Princess. That not do you? How about Queenie then?”

“Relax,” FeeTwix tells her, “he’s just being Hiccup.”

Hiccup approaches the bearadillo, and starts to cut from the gaping wound under its tail and around the juncture of underbelly and armored carapace. “We can definitely sell this shit.” He pauses for a moment and leaves the blade stuck in the creature’s carcass as he turns to FeeTwix and pokes a bloody metallic finger in his chest. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“What’s that?” FeeTwix asks.

“Give me the head’s up next time you decide use me as part of your little attack strategy. I could have equipped a boar spear and we could have skewered the big ficker together, but no, you decided to make me bearadillo bait. How ‘bout some communication, huh? Maybe get that teamwork thing going?”

“Sorry,” FeeTwix says, not sounding sorry at all. “There wasn’t time to discuss it with you, and you wouldn’t have gone for it anyway.”

“That’s true, but you should ask anyway.”

Ryuk interrupts them. “What’s that?” Hanging in the trees about twenty meters away is a crudely made coffin suspended by a chain.

“Forest ninjas hang their deceased from trees,” Zaena explains. “It’s a pretty good indication that their temple is that way.”

“Why is it rimmed in magic?” Ryuk asks.

“Magic?” Hiccup sighs. “What are you going on about, Marbles?”

“Your magical sensitivity is increasing, isn’t it?” Zaena asks.

“It’s nothing. Just started last night, actually.”

“I don’t have any talent for magic but my brother does. We had the same tutor so I got to learn quite a bit about Tritanian magic,” the Thulean explains.

“Same tutor, huh?” Hiccup grumbles as he cuts into the bearadillo. “Sounds like we have a one-percenter over here, am I right, fellas?”

Zaena ignores him as she asks, “What color is the magic?”

Ryuk focuses again on the hanging coffin. The magic surrounding it is just barely visible. It moves ever-so-slightly and ripples every few seconds as it does so. “Dark blue at the tips.”

Skill level up!

Skill: Magic Eye

Level Three: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. A yellow outline signals that an object is enchanted. A dark blue outline signals that necrotic magic is being used.

Requirements: Level 5 Mage, LUCK > 5.

“Dark magic,” she says at the same time he gets the prompt, “but not regular dark magic, necrotic dark magic.”

“So that means what, exactly?” FeeTwix asks.

Zaena continues as if she hadn’t heard him, “I really don’t know much about the forest ninjas of Hyperborea. From what I do know, I can tell you that most of them are related to the Bo people who live in the mountain ranges of Ultima Thule. They hang their coffins from the sides of cliffs. It’s a sight to behold!”

“I’ve seen it,” Ryuk says, “but only briefly.”

“What’s this about necrotic magic?” the Swede asks.

“Zombies, Twixy. That’s what she’s a-saying.” Hiccup retrieves his big knife and works at separating the bearadillo from its armored hide. “There’s a zombie in there and we’ll trigger it if we get too close, if we haven’t already. They’re slow and stupid, but enough of ‘em can swarm you and then the comedy is over. They’ll probably eat you first, Marbles, as you’re the weakest.”

Ryuk glares at the garrulous goblin.

“So we’d better turn back.” Hiccup gathers a handful of forest floor litter and vigorously wipes his hands. “I have an idea, let’s go back to Jatla, sell the hide and the tusks I picked up yesterday, and quintuple our funds at a ponytail race! Then we can just buy some levels, or at the very least, enough armor and weapons that our levels won’t matter.”

FeeTwix clears his throat. “I’ve spent considerable time in a world called Dead City; anti-zombie operations have sort of become a specialty of mine.”

He grins as a very large rifle of parkerized steel and graphite composites with a BORS Telescopic sight appears. “This is my M-98 Widow. There are many like it, but this one is mine,” he says as he locks the bipod into position. “It’s heavy – thirty-nine kilos – but with the depleted pelosium ammo I scored, this weapon will inflict 1900 damage to armored foes. I don’t know what that translates to here in Tritania, but I’m pretty sure it’ll kill the hell out of zombies.”

Zaena steps back. “An alien weapon?” She uneasily eyes the rifle.

FeeTwix gets in the prone position, powers up the optics and has a quick look-see. “Unless Ryuk thinks he can take the coffin out from here with his slingshot, this is the way forward.”

“You’ll take HP damage,” Ryuk says.

“That’s what we have healing potions for. Now hush children, and let daddy work.” FeeTwix focuses on the target, breathes in, lets half out, and with a slow squeeze of the trigger blasts the coffin into toothpicks and matchsticks.

Instakill!

The Mitherfickers are each awarded EXP. FeeTwix’s life bar takes a sting to the tune of fifty-five HP and his form flashes red. “I see another one.” He adjusts his scope, takes a breath and lets half out, and sends another armor-piercing harbinger of unhappiness downrange.

Instakill!

More EXP, fifty-five more points of damage to his HP. A healing potion appears in his hand and he takes a swig from it.

Hiccup’s eyes light up. “Finally he gets out the good stuff! How about a little snort for your old goblin pal?”

Ambivalent about FeeTwix using firearms, Zaena turns away from the shooting.

“We have to conserve healing potions,” FeeTwix reminds the goblin as he scans the forest.

“Ah, come on, just a taste!”

“Later. Damn there are a lot of trees. I don’t think I’ll be able to get them all.”

“Those are their ancestors,” Zaena finally says. “We should respect them.”

Hiccup snorts. “Huh – I respect the living fick out of them, as long as they don’t try to nosh on my ass. But this – this is a bad idea and just makes them focus on us. What we should focus on is sharing our healing potions.”

“Don’t worry,” FeeTwix tells her, “this will save us time later on.”

“Not if it attracts other enemies.”

Ryuk keeps his eyes on the forest, and has two knife marbles staged and ready to go. Having been a Ninja Warrior before he became a Ballistics Mage, he is keenly aware of the creeping abilities of the subclass.

Suddenly, his field of vision constricts and he sees a pair of shadowy silhouettes in the middle distance. His focus is so intense that the guildmates’ bantering has receded to a distant buzz.

He receives the notification of a new skill.

New skill learned!

Skill: Extreme Focus

Level One: Can detect approach of camouflaged/concealed/stealthed enemies and objects.

Mage bonus: Higher levels allow sleuthing and increased accuracy. Also increases magic detection range when used in tandem with Magic Eye.

Requirements: LUCK > 3

I was never able to sense magic when I was a ninja, Ryuk thinks. Before he reset, his skill was up to level fifty and he could sense enemies from nearly a kilometer away. He could also instantly detect residual traces of enemies, even if the enemy hadn’t been there for some time.

There they are.

Ryuk drops down next to FeeTwix and whispers in his ear, “There’s two of them, about three hundred meters out, just to the left of that big tree that’s bent at the top like a crescent moon.”

“I see the big tree. Where to the left of it?”

“One, two, three trees over. About half way up, crouched on a branch.”

“Roger.”

Instakill!

The ultra-high velocity depleted pelosium slug blasts the first ninja to rags and tatters; his buddy beats a strategic retreat and disappears ninja style.

“If they didn’t before, the forest ninjas definitely know we’re here now,” Ryuk observes.

“I could have told you that.” Hiccup cleans his blades with a rag he’s produced from somewhere, inspects the results and sends the knives back to inventory.

“Let’s wrap this up.” Ryuk makes the lassoing gesture with his hand. “They’ll be back in force.”

FeeTwix is up to his feet again and his weapon is gone. His eyes flash black. “Hey everyone! Sorry for the bailing there for a moment, but we were discussing some important guild matters. And hey! Good news for our compadres in Bee-yoo-tee-ful May-hee-co City! This week only, P.F. Chang’s has an exclusive dinner special for fans of this feed. Mention FeeTwix es mi amigo to your waiter to receive half off on selected chicken and seafood entrees!”

Zaena gives him an uncertain smile. “You will need to explain to me what it is you do in your world some time.” She takes the lead, her two main swords are sheathed on either side of her body.

As they walk, FeeTwix equips his slice bang and places it in a sheath that has formed across his back. A Glock 31 appears in his hand and he holsters it at his side.

“Where did you get the idea of using alien weapons?” Zaena asks.

“The same place as anyone who is going around with a big inventory list got the idea – Quantum Hughes.”

The Thulean stops dead in her tracks and whirls to face him. “Did you say Quantum Hughes?”

“No he said Phantom Poos.” Hiccup chuckles at his own jocular wordplay. “Or Ransom Screws.”

“Taktach dola genkha moornikh duchaka.”

Hiccup scoffs. “Jokes are a good way to die, huh? No, you got that wrong, Lizzy – death is easy, comedy is hard. Chokes are a good way to die!” He laughs at his own bad joke until Ryuk shushes him.

“To return to the topic at hand – we Thuleans despise Quantum Hughes.” Zaena uses her ghost limbs to prevent some over-leaning tree branches from scraping the tops of their heads. Well, FeeTwix and Ryuk’s heads; Hiccup is too short.

“Really?” FeeTwix looks to her. “Why’s that?”

“Hughes cheated and slew Queen Renata in the Saiduka Giant’s tournament almost twenty years ago. He used forbidden weapons, alien weapons, weapons like yours.”

“Didn’t the firearm penalty get him?” FeeTwix asks.

“He had some bright orange tabard decorated with a terrible bird of prey that negated the damage penalty, the moonae rushikhcha bastard cheater.”

“A kitten strangler?” Hiccup snorts. “I’ll have to use that one!”

A mirror appears in FeeTwix’s hand and he gives it his most endearing smile. “Shout-out to all Fans o’ FeeTwix and all of you Tritania players and Tritanian historians: if you can get me one of these orange vests, I’ll make it well worth your while, in game and in the RW. One of these vests would keep me from constantly having to chug healing potions.”

“Nothing wrong with constantly chugging healing potions. Speaking of which … ” Hiccup holds out his grubby, befouled fingers.

“Later,” FeeTwix assures him.

“That’s what you take from this story, that you need one of those cheating cheater’s cheat vests and not that he cheated?” Zaena’s face hardens.

FeeTwix shrugs and his eyes flash blue. “Really, babe, I’m just being practical here. I deliberately chose this class just so I can use the weapons I’ve gathered from other places. One of those vests would be really helpful.”

“You won’t get one,” Ryuk tells him. “There are only two in existence and one of them is at the Knights’ guild headquarters in Valhalla.”

“Then we’ll go there.”

“It’s not that simple – you have to be a member to get in.”

“You were a member,” FeeTwix reminds him.

“But now I’m not; now I’m a resetter. The Knights have strict rules about this.”

A tomahawk with a leather tassel hanging from its handle appears in Hiccup’s hand. “Enemies nearby,” he inhales deeply, “and treasure – lots and lots of treasure!”

Zaena draws her swords; FeeTwix draws his double-bladed sword.

Ryuk takes a step back, takes a deep breath and Extreme Focus constricts his viewing pane into tunnel vision mode.

Off to his left, he sees a few nearly invisible wavelengths radiating off one of the trampled branches. His tunnel vision zooms forward until it is as if he’s now examining things at the molecular level. His tunnel vision snaps back into normal viewing; a targeting reticle appears over shadowy silhouette outlined in flashing red.

He reaches into the pouch containing the knife marbles and the targeting reticle adjusts for hold-over. He loads the marble, draws, aims …

The flying knife takes the forest ninja right in the eye.

Instakill!

Chapter 13: Breakfast in the sky

Kodai disengages from his haptic chair, stands and looks out over the city.

His view, facing southeast towards Tokyo Bay and the Imperial Garden, is something he’s enjoyed ever since he moved into his current place. The view makes him feel larger than life, like he’s in charge of the entire country. It doesn’t quite beat the view he once had of Central Park, but it is equally stunning.

He steps to his walk-in closet, and selects his favorite black Kiton suit, which is freshly pressed and lightly scented with the floral fabric freshener the dry cleaner uses. With his thin black tie precisely knotted, he slips into the suit jacket and returns to the genkan, where he exchanges his house shoes for a pair of bespoke Italian leather shoes. From there, it’s to the coat rack where he dons a Kenzo parka that one of his personal shoppers purchased at the Opening Ceremony store in Harajuku.

Outside the front door to his penthouse, Gorira – the biggest escort that he employs – impassively awaits him.

No words pass between them as they walk to the elevator. They descend thirty floors, the doors open and they step into an immaculate lobby of polished marble, imported wood, and a single, decades-old bonsai tree that is lovingly maintained by an expert from the Omiya Bonsai Art Museum.

Two additional escorts join Gorira and the three accompany Kodai to an aerosSUV parked out front. Once he’s in the back, and has adjusted the heater to his liking, the vehicle lifts into its appropriate skylane.

Silence permeates the ten minutes or so that it takes to get from Shinjuku to Shinagawa, MercSecure’s Asia headquarters.

The American private security company’s new building is directly south of the JR Shinagawa Station and is connected to the station by a series of high pedestrian bridges. Outdoor escalators drop from the pedestrian bridge to lower platforms full of eateries, kissaten coffee bars, and designer clothing shops.

Japanese citizens, most clad in the darker clothes associated with business in Japan, weave in and out of the crowds coming from and going to the busy station, all focused on arriving at their destination on time.

As their vehicle lands, Kodai’s attention shifts from the bustling crowd to a white awning on top of the MercSecure tower. He receives a message from Lorem Ipsum, the executive manager of MercSecure Asia.

Lorem Ipsum: I hope you’re hungry.

Kodai doesn’t respond.

It was his late father who taught him of the power of silence at a business meeting. Other than a brief, professional greeting, little else is said as his security detail is met by their MercSecure counterparts. An older MercSecure team member with white hair catches Kodai’s eye. There’s something mechanical about his movement, which leads him to believe that the MercSecure agent may be a humandroid or a cyborg. As a general rule, humandroids aren’t manufactured to look old, so he assumes the latter.

Lorem Ipsum stands as Kodai approaches. Lorem is a big man, with dark eyebrows and light brown eyes. He’s in an Armani suit with an American flag pin on the lapel, and his thick blue tie sports a perfect Windsor knot.

“Glad you could make it for breakfast,” Lorem says with a slight bow. He offers Kodai a seat at the table. “I know, having it out here is bit of a security risk, but it was such a nice morning – cold, but nice – that I thought, hey, let’s go for it. You aren’t too cold are you? I have heaters ready if you are.”

“I’m fine.”

MercSecure’s men take their security posts around the white awning. Kodai’s guys hold back, ready if need be.

“Relax,” Lorem says, “we have the surrounding rooftops staked out too. Just think of this as one of the many things we can do. We are, after all, in the business of protecting people in any environment, and I do mean any.”

A waitress of singular beauty approaches the table bearing a covered silver platter. She places it in front of him and lifts its cover before he can figure out where he recognizes her from. He glances down at the plate. A perfectly-shaped omelet with a bit of garnish – his typical breakfast.

Another silver platter is placed in front of Lorem. The lid comes up to reveal a T-bone steak and a single egg, sunny side up with a dash of pepper on top. “Bon appetit.” Lorem slices into the steak, and a puddle of red liquid forms on his plate.

“You must really enjoy the Japanese winter to have your breakfast outside,” Kodai observes.

Lorem chews, swallows, and says, “It’s fine, aside from the constant drizzle that never seems to freeze. I was in Bogata before this and weather aside, it’s a lot nicer here. So yes, I’m really enjoying it.”

Kodai cuts into his omelet and notes the gentle ooze of melted cheddar cheese. The American company MercSecure and their parent company, ExEx, are the best in the business at gathering and collating data, as well as all aspects of private security and non-governmental military operations. Kodai reflects on this as the same lovely waitress from earlier pours him coffee and adds a single creamer to it.

“Thank you,” he says, first in Japanese then English. He returns his focus to Lorem Ipsum. “Why are meeting here on the rooftop? I assumed we’d meet inside.”

Lorem finishes chewing his steak. He wipes his mouth with his linen napkin, returns it to his lap and says, “I told you, fresh air, nice morning.”

“Open a window. That’s what most people do for fresh air.”

“The windows don’t open on the fifty-second floor.”

“Hon tarareta.”

“Yes,” Ipsum says with a smile, “touché.”

“Ah, so that is the English translation. I thought it would be something along the lines of, ‘you got me there.’”

“We use a French fencing term for that: touché.”

“Good to know.”

Both men finish their breakfasts in relative silence. Once Lorem has finished his steak and egg, the big man pushes back from the table and crosses one leg over another. “Is this about Hajime?”

Kodai glances left and right at the MercSecure men at the four points of the awning. His eyes stay on the cyborg a moment longer than the others. “No,” he finally says, “this isn’t about Hajime.”

“How is he performing?”

Instead of an answer Kodai says, “There is actually one thing I’d like to discuss with you, and it is reason I’ve asked to meet with you today.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like another one, another Hajime.”

Lorem wipes his mouth with a linen napkin and says, “Not to be rude, but I don’t normally deal with the day-to-day operations of leasing humandroids.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“However, your group was one of our first clients, and seeing how this is the case, I’ll gladly discuss humandroid leasing with you.”

“Good.”

“Hajime was a prototype, a working prototype, and the only one of his kind. He was designed by the Dr. Hewman, before Hewman’s tragic death. His reasoning capabilities were heightened to their maximum setting. Once Walliburton received the modified humandroid from Dr. Hewman, they tried to adjust the reasoning controls and were unable to do so.”

“Yet MercSecure still bought him from Walliburton?”

“We did. Our founder believes that there is much to learn about humandroid reasoning and Hajime passed all the field tests, even the most strenuous.”

Kodai nods. “Then what can you offer me of a similar nature?”

“Male or female?”

“Are they equally strong?”

Lorem Ipsum smiles.

“That’s a very common question, actually. Humandroids don’t share the same physical disparities as humans. The newest female and male models are equally strong. It will, however take some time to put a complete custom order in with Walliburton and finalize their training at our facilities in California. Combat and security detail humandroids do come preloaded with software, and the software is very good, but we like to field test them before they are distributed.”

“How long are we talking about for a custom model?”

“For a custom one, several months. For one our models that have already been trained, two days top. Their software will be tweaked and after updates are made, they’ll be on the next plane to Tokyo. However, these aren’t as customizable, aside from their appearances.”

Kodai considers this for a moment. “I see. Is there any disadvantage of going with a pre-made model?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good, go ahead and put the order in for a model that is already available. I’d like one quickly, preferably a female.”

Lorem Ipsum takes a sip from his coffee. “Consider it done.”

A prompt on Kodai’s iNet screen gives him the leasing cost and various leasing and indemnity documents for him to peruse. After he has skimmed through everything, his own bank details appear in a prompt directly over the leasing document. He accepts the charges and the credit is instantly transferred.

“Also, I’ll need a humstunner. Isn’t that what you Americans call it?”

“That or a humgun, yes.”

Another prompt; more credit is transferred.

“Wonderful,” Lorem Ipsum clasps his fingers together. “Your humandroid should be available within two days, maybe less. In the meantime, if you require added protection, may I suggest an agent recently assigned to the Asian circuit. Walt?”

The older cyborg steps away from his post and approaches the table.

Kodai examines the agent for a moment. He’s fit, with a scarred, grizzled face. The mercenary offers Lorem a small bow. “A pleasure to meet you,” he says in passable Japanese.

“I’ll let you know if I need any additional security.”

“Please do,” Lorem says as he extends his hand to Kodai, “and tell your mother that I said hello.”

(0)__(0)

It is Lorem Ipsum’s last comment that has Kodai brooding as his aerosSUV lifts into the air. Even though the windows are tinted, he offers Lorem Ipsum another tight smile. The fucker. To be sure, it his MercSecure’s job to know a person’s pressure points, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

“Has Sarah arrived yet?” he asks Gorira, who sits in the front passenger seat of the vehicle.

“She’s there now, in the lobby.”

“Have her brought up to my apartment. Keep someone with her so she doesn’t touch anything.”

“You got it, boss.”

With his eyes closed, his eyelids come alive with various things he’s monitoring over iNet.

Two of his pink salons in Harmonica Yokocho had lower than normal profits last week. He’ll need to take a look into this, and he’ll also need to take a look into a soapland named Hinomaru that he runs in Yokohama. The manager, a hapless idiot nicknamed Meosa, was hired as a favor to an earlier investor in the establishment. Now that profits have stabilized, it’d be better if Meosa simply disappeared.

Then there’s the oppai pub in Tachikawa that caters to American military personnel stationed at Fussa Air Force Base. This is a cash cow for sure, but the Americans can be very destructive when they’re drunk. Case in point: an incident last night in which a minor scuffle involving a small group of airmen escalated into a full-blown bar brawl which spilled into the street and involved the civil police and American Security Forces.

The pub is trashed and will be closed for the next few days for repairs.

There are other business matters Kodai needs to attend to that don’t involve the sex industry, including a new shipment from Bangkok of designer intoxicants, known as pollutes, something that his organization will distribute to a few of his establishments later this week.

The pollute business has taken off over the last five years; still, the sex industry is a constant when it comes to profits and even with the turnover, it will continue to drive his family business until at least 2080, likely longer. Even with the advent of full immersion sex in various Proxima worlds – something the sex industry thought would lead to its demise – human on human contact still trumps anything that takes place simply in the mind.

Which is one of the reasons he’s invited Sarah the Australian over this morning.

“I need to visit Hinomaru later today,” he tells Gorira, “this evening, before the late night crowd arrives.”

“You got it, boss. Anything else?”

“Tachikawa. I’ll need to go there afterwards.”

“Got it.”

Time blips by and soon, his aerosSUV lowers into its appropriate skylane. It continues its descent to the street in front of his condo, in a cordoned off space at the building’s entrance.

There is a rooftop landing spot, but Kodai prefers the ground level entrance as it keeps him visible. After all, his family owns the entire complex, and he likes the residents to know that he is there and that they should feel safe, no matter the situation.

Several more of his men, each Mt. Fuji-sized, form a shield around him as he exits the vehicle.

They lead Kodai through the lobby, past an older female resident. No gawking, the woman keeps her eyes front and modestly lowered, as if to pretend that the owner isn’t passing. Kodai approves.

The Japanese, while curious, are a well-mannered society that generally don’t pry or inquire too closely into the business of others; very much unlike his experience in New York. Sure, people kept to themselves in the famed American metropolis, but if he had shown up in Manhattan with a security detail like he has now, people would have stopped, watched, and recorded. There were even signs in New York that encouraged this behavior – Stop, Watch, Record – an effort from the governor’s office in partnership with America’s Federal Corporate Government to lower crime.

Gorira enters and clears the elevator. He courteously holds the door as Kodai enters. The mammoth minder presses his finger on a keypad and the elevator samples his DNA. After it flashes green, a pleasant voice announces that they are cleared to proceed.

Again, they ride in silence as the elevator ascends to the thirtieth floor. Gorira steps out first and scans the entryway, then steps aside so Kodai may exit. He tells Gorira to wait a moment, and once he’s scanned his finger the front door of his penthouse clicks open.

“You may leave now,” he tells Sarah’s escort, who stands solemnly in the center of the room. The man bows and exits; Kodai waits until the door is completely shut before turning to Sarah.

“Let’s speak in English,” he tells her as he takes off his coat.

Sarah nervously adjusts her short velvet mini-skirt. She’s in a low cut top, the fabric of which barely restrains her more than ample breasts. Her high heels are neatly placed next to the door and she now stands in a pair of Doraemon house slippers.

“But I wanted to practice my Japanese,” she says, quickly regaining her confidence. This remains the one thing Kodai admires most about her – her confidence in the face of true power. “I was up pretty late last night, you know.” She winks at him, “Working for you. When did you leave?”

“A little after I met with my brother. Did you see him?”

She bites her lip as she thinks for a moment. “A bit of a scrawny guy, isn’t he? Black hair? Hoodie?”

“That’s him. We share the same hair color.”

She stifles a laugh.

Kodai unzips his jacket. “How very racist of you.”

“I don’t see many Japanese that don’t have black hair,” she says, “but yours is much better than his. That mop on his head makes him look like a bloody drongo. I prefer your style, clean cut, masculine.”

“It’s nice to be preferred.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Ryuk.” He stands silently for a moment, admiring her body.

“So, you called me over here … ”

“That I did.”

“It’s nice to, um, to see you.” She laughs nervously.

“I’m sure it is.” Kodai nods towards the couch. “Sit on the couch.”

“Okay.” Sarah quickly moves back over to the couch and straightens her mini-skirt before sitting down. Kodai takes a black armchair in front of her.

“So … ” She wipes a strand of hair out of her face and crosses her arms beneath her breasts.

“Spread your legs,” Kodai instructs.

“Um, okay.” She offers him a soft smile as she spreads her legs, showing him her light blue panties. “I wanted to wear black underwear,” she tells him, “but I thought this new set I picked up at Uniqlo looked cuter with this outfit. Not that I thought you’d see. Ha!”

“They are cute.”

She shifts her skirt up even further and shows him the front of the panties. “They have pictures of Betty Boop on them. Heard of her?”

“No, but I recognize the image. Lift the armrest.”

“Oh, this is one of those couches with armrests that lift, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

Sarah does as instructed. Her eyebrows raise as she takes in the content of the armrest. “What … what would you like me to wear?”

“I’d like you wear the choker collar.” Kodai unbuckles his pants.

“Um, yes, sure, anything you’d like.” She places a satin choker adorned with a heart-shaped gemstone around her neck. “Does this look about right?” Again, she regains her composure, as if all of this is exceedingly normal.

Kodai slips his pants off. “It looks perfect. Now I want you to touch yourself.”

She nervously moistens her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over there and touch you?”

“No,” he tells her as he pulls off his boxer briefs, “I want you to stay right where you are.”

Chapter 14: Cherry blossom ninjas

Ryuk checks his stats to find he has increased two levels through auto-leveling. While the ninjas in the Jatla Forest don’t carry many rupees, they are dishing out double experience points.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 7 Ballistics Mage

HP: 245/252

ATK: 69

MATK: 88

DEF: 50

MDF: 31

LUCK: 7

FeeTwix Fajer Level 11 Berserker Mystic

HP: 258/306

ATK: 84

MATK: 26

DEF: 59

MDF: 30

LUCK: 13

Hiccup Level 10 Shield Thief

HP: 363/425

ATK: 70

MATK: 13

DEF: 101

MDF: 48

LUCK: 9

Zaena Morozon Level 12 Brawler Assassin

HP: 279/357

ATK: 91

MATK: 8

DEF: 88

MDF: 24

LUCK: 14

The Mitherfickers – damn, he needs need a new name for their guild – are shaping up.

They are a little top heavy when it comes to physical attack power versus magic attack power, but this can prove beneficial. Ryuk isn’t a magic user in the traditional sense – he expends no mana. This is another reason Ballistics Mages are the least popular avatar to take. While they may have unlimited magical ammo, they can’t cast spells.

The weapon itself is also a handicap; Ryuk’s looked at the ‘upgraded’ slingshots available in Jatla and about the only upgrade available is a wrist brace. So, no magic in the traditional sense and a minimally effective weapon to wield – thus is the life of a lowly Ballistics Mage.

Once they rescue Tamana however, they’ll have a guild member who relies partially on magic. She can wield light-based attacks and she can also heal, which is a definite advantage given the speed with which two of his guildmates in particular rip through healing potions.

One more day to go.

An idea has been floating around in his head since they discovered signs of the Shinigami in the Jatla Forest. His idea may be the way forward, and it definitely falls within the parameters of emphasizing differences. The element of surprise is on his mind, and once the time is right, Ryuk will pitch his idea to his guildmates. For now, he keeps it to himself.

“Let’s all share a healing potion,” FeeTwix says, “We only have a couple left and there’s a good chance we’ll need it.”

The four stand at the base of a hillock, directly beneath a giant red Torii gate.

The water stained stone stairway shows the wear of generation upon generations of feet. Moss has grown over the banisters on either side of the stone stairway before them; fissures like veins have crumbled portions of the stairs into chunks, revealing the raw soil beneath. A thicket of bamboo covers at the top of the stairs, obscuring the entrance to the ninja temple.

“Fine,” says Hiccup, “me first.”

Hiccup snatches the glass bottle out of FeeTwix’s hand with more speed and alacrity than he usually displays, but before he can so much as uncork it, an invisible force snags it from him.

“Share,” Zaena reminds him. With her ghost limbs, she uncorks the healing potion and takes a sip without touching her mouth to the bottle.

“Ah, come on, Liz! That’s more than half … ”

She hands it to FeeTwix, who takes a healthy gulp.

“You can have my share,” Ryuk tells Hiccup.

The goblin leaps up and takes the bottle from FeeTwix’s hands. He stuffs it in his noise hole, sucks it down, and jams his tongue as far as he can into the bottle to lap up anything that’s left. “Good, but not great,” he says as he wipes his mouth with his mechanical arm. “Let’s kick some ninja ass, and get the hell out of here. I feel like we’re wasting valuable time in this forest. You said we had four healing potions left, right?”

“I did.” FeeTwix’s eyes are completely black. Just moments ago earlier, he announced that nearly 750,000 people were watching his livestream. He expects that number to rise as they enter the temple.

“How ‘bout letting Uncle Goblin keep two of them? You can focus on, um, killing and whatnot.” Hiccup nods up the stone stairway. “I predict there will be a fick-ton of ninjas up there, maybe even a fick-ton and a half, so it’d be better if all our healing stuff wasn’t concentrated on just one person. Hell, with a weakling like Marbles, you never know when one of us will have to run back and stick a bottle in his mouth. Trust me on this: you’ll want another compadre with a potion or two.”

“And this compadre should be you?” Zaena asks.

“Who else should it be? You’ll be too busy twirling swords to bother healing the rest of us.”

“Fair point.”

“So whaddaya say, Twixy, two potions?”

“Keep quiet,” Ryuk hisses.

The stone stairs are steep, at least six or seven flights, and they’ll likely get hit somewhere along their ascent. His dream armor has done a bang-up job so far of protecting him, but he’d still prefer to keep any adversaries at a distance. He moves a few steps in front of his guildmates to better his focus.

“Fine, fine!” FeeTwix waves his hands in defeat. “Have two potions, but do not drink them now.”

“Fick yeah!” Hiccup says loudly as he takes the potions. “You know, FeeTwix you ain’t such a bad guy after all. Now your new squeeze here … ”

“Charo tugtukh lopp.”

The goblin snorts. “She’s growing on me too – like a rash. Ha! I kid, I kid – even though she just called me a bloody fick stain. Another choice bit of Thulean I’ll have to use.”

“You liked that one?” Zaena smiles over to Hiccup.

“If you’re asking me if I give credit where credit is due, the answer is ‘yes’. Now we’d better be quiet because Marbles up there thinks we’re making too much noise.”

Zaena stifles a laugh.

Damn goblin.

FeeTwix joins Ryuk near the top of the steps. “We’ll need to head to a town after we loot the temple,” he says in a low voice. “I’ve noticed that the enemies are getting stronger.”

“That’s because they adjust their strength in relation to our level. The only way to combat this is to armor up. The enemy level gauge used by the Sage … ”

“The Sage?”

“Tritania’s AI,” Ryuk says, “the NVA Seed. The enemy’s levels are tied only to our physical levels, regardless of what we’ve equipped.”

“Sweet.” FeeTwix places a friendly hand on Ryuk’s shoulder. His eyes flash blue. “Did you see anything up there?”

“No, it’s extremely quiet, even with all the noise.” Behind him, Hiccup and Zaena are conversing in Thulean. He can’t tell if they are arguing or swapping Sotlan macaroon recipes – the guttural sound of Thulean makes everything sound aggressive.

“Let me take a look.” A portion of a mechanical skull takes shape in FeeTwix’s hand. The jaw bone is missing, as is the entire right side of the skull. The left eyehole is intact, and covered by a ruby red lens. “I keep meaning to get a strap added to this so I can at least wrap it around my head,” he says as he lifts the skull to his face, “but this will do.”

“What is it exactly?” Ryuk asks.

“A Reaper skull,” he says. “I picked it up in a world called Steam. It may be one of the rarest items I own. It allows me to see beyond the grid lines of the world. It does other things too, but that’s mostly what I use it for.”  He holds the mask to his face and takes a slow look around.

Reapers? Ryuk considers this for a moment. He’s heard of the murder guild before – one cannot be in the Knights of Non Compos Mentis without hearing of the battles they waged with the Reapers – but he knows little about them or if they still even exist.

“Nice one, Yorick.” Hiccup remarks as he passes. “You look like a fickin’ Terminator’s migraine with that thing on, Twixy.”

“What alien device is this?” With her ghost limb, Zaena snags the partial skull from FeeTwix.

“Careful with that!”

She holds the mask to her face, gasps, and hands it back like it’s covered in flaming radioactive Thulean Ebola. “I’d … I’d rather not be reminded of what I am,” she says under her breath.

The phrase loops in Ryuk’s head for a moment: I’d rather not be reminded of what I am. If there were ever a quote to describe the way he feels about the real world …

Mask back in hand, FeeTwix finishes his scan for hostiles. “Nothing,” he shrugs, “no enemies lurking anywhere, and no booby traps either.”

“Regardless, everyone keep their weapons up,” Zaena says, “there are some things your alien attachments can’t sense.”

(0)__(0)

“Talk about anticlimactic.” Hiccup reaches the top of the stone stairs and stretches his arms over his head. About the only thing the Mitherfickers battled on their way to the top were a stubbed toe and Hiccup’s gaseous eructation that followed.

“I don’t know about you three, but I’m ready for a proper fried gob-brekky with a side of Yoshi McNuggets and a McStarbucks pumpkin spice half-caf soy latte, extra foam, and steamed to 130 degrees Fahrenheit thank-you-very-much. I didn’t have time to have a proper gob-nosh this morning.”

Zaena gives him a queasy look.

The devious goblin drums his fingers across his belly. “So what do you say we use the cashola from raiding this temple to have ourselves a fickin’ epic feast? I’m talking the works: meat, meat, meat, some dairy, and more meat. And ale. Dessert too – candied meat, if they have it.”

FeeTwix turns to Ryuk. “Seen a set up like this before?”

Ryuk nods. There’s a stone wash basin to the right of the entrance and an old donation box on the left.

Wrapping around the temple walls are a collection of short stone lanterns, known as tōrō, many of which have lost the integrity of their original forms.  Ryuk has seen this type of thing a thousand times – one doesn’t have to look very far to find a similar temple in Japan.

The Swede pushes the wooden door open and the sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms wafts out. The pink, white, and red cherry blossoms swirl around the four, inviting them in.

“It’s so beautiful!” Zaena gasps.

With Ryuk at the rear, they enter the courtyard and trample through a pink blanket of blossoms. Another breeze picks up, lifting the blossoms and cartwheeling them towards one of the thatched buildings in the far corner of the courtyard.

Cherry blossoms – sakura in Japanese – are thought of as a perfect metaphor for life and death. They bloom for one week, fall from the trees, and are mercilessly tossed around in the wind until they are swept up and disposed of. Ryuk has never really thought of them this way, and seeing them in their digital form gives him no more pleasure than seeing them in person.

Besides, he’s much more focused on the giant stone statue of a warrior in the center of the courtyard.

A stereotypical Western appropriation of Asian iconography, to be sure, but Ryuk can’t help but feel intimidated by the ominous conical jigasa on the statue’s head; or the yellow magic that lightly skirts along the rim of the hat; or the angry Tengu mask on his face; or the two stone swords sheathed at its side.

Just to be on the safe side, he loads two knife marbles into pocket of his slingshot and scans the rooftops. “The statue is an enchanted object,” he tells everyone.

“Yellow magic?” Zaena asks.

He nods as cherry blossoms lift into the air as a light zephyr picks up.

The wind carries them to the four corners of the courtyard, depositing the petals along the interior walls of the temple. Oddly, none of the flowers come remotely close to the colossal warrior statue, which stands a good five meters tall.

FeeTwix snaps his wrist and the two blades on his sword shift to thirty-degree angles. His eyes have darkened again, black enough to reflect the whites of the flower petals floating in front of him. “What about a preemptive strike?” He asks. “Let’s take out the statue now, before the cavalry arrives.”

Zaena shakes her. “Not a good idea. Attacking the statue may bring it to life.” She spins left, her four swords up and ready. “I could have sworn I sensed something over there!”

Why are all of our senses fuzzy? Ryuk tries to use his Extreme Focus skill, but the sheer number of cherry blossoms now spinning all around him block his ability to see.

Out the mess of spinning petals comes a shuriken. It sticks into the chest plate of his dream armor and explodes before he can yank it out.

-25 HP!

Ryuk gets off two knife marbles in the general direction of the attack as he’s hurled backwards.

He smacks into a stone pillar and slides to the ground. To his right he sees Zaena death-dancing with the blossoms, cutting them out of the air and creating a whirling wall-o-blades to ward off more projectile attacks. FeeTwix and Hiccup are somewhere around her, but not visible from his location.

He crouches, places a clear marble in the pouch of his slingshot, and aims it ten feet or so above Zaena’s head. As he looses the marble he shouts, “Reveal enemy!”

Reveal enemy!

It worked again!

The petals drop out of the air revealing roughly fifteen ninjas clad in pink cherry blossom camouflage armor. They range in levels, from eight to twelve, their hit points in the low to mid three hundreds. Ryuk sees a few bows, the requisite swords, sais, nunchucks, and vigoorian flails.

A shield takes shape in FeeTwix’s left hand, its surface pocked with indentations from bullet strikes. Hiccup has a shield too, but it’s no larger than a cake-decorating stand.

The ninjas descend upon the Mitherfickers.

Ryuk zips three black marbles at the first cluster of ninjas. They scatter and narrowly avoid the explosion. One backflips to the top of a cherry blossom tree, and from there, looses arrows at Ryuk as the tree shifts beneath the ninja’s weight. The stone pillar shields Ryuk; he leans out and catapults three more black marbles at the enemy.

Damn! His magic slingshot overheats again.

As he shakes it out over his head to cool it down, a lithesome pink-clad she-ninja drops down in front of him and spins in with a pair of sais. He gets his arm up and his dream armor parries the attack, just in time for a rococo dragon-handled sword to sprout from the she-ninja’s chest. Instakill!

A quick look over his shoulder and he sees that even though Zaena has three swords and four ninjas to contend with, she still had time to save Ryuk’s ass.

Time to return the favor. He wipes his face, loads two knife marbles, and waits for the perfect opportunity to present itself. The nearest ninja bends into the start of a forward flip and gets the knife marbles where the moon shineth not.

-100 HP!

His Cherry Poppin’ Daddy skill sends the flipping ninja face first to the stone.

The clash, clatter and clang of steel upon steel pulls Ryuk’s attention to an uneven contest between FeeTwix, Hiccup, and two vigoorian flail-wielding female ninjas. The ninjas fight as a coordinated team; Hiccup and FeeTwix are steadily giving ground and losing health.

I’ve got this. Ryuk aims a black marble at the closest ninja’s head, just as an intense wind whips the cherry blossom petals into a pink-out that obscures their surroundings. The vigoorian duo momentarily distracted, FeeTwix pops off a pair of flash-bangs to keep them even more distracted.

Ryuk can feel the concussion from the blast in his D-NAS.

“There’s too many!” the Swede shouts, as stroboscopic flashes add rod-and-cone-searing confusion to the pink-out. “We need to circle up, get back to back! Back to back!” The Mitherfickers tortoise up as the flower petals spin all around them. “We need to form a … a tank!” FeeTwix has a jagged cut across his cheek, his health has taken a hit and his eyes are black and recording even as his face radiates a fierce joy.

The Swede is in his element.

“We need to take out the statue!”

“You don’t know what it will do!” Zaena shouts over her shoulder.

“If we take it out, we’ll kill the ninjas too. It’s a classic boss battle!”

Hiccup deflects an arrow with his caterer’s shield. “The cowardly wankers and their fickin’ poofty disguises!”

“Listen to me!” FeeTwix shouts as he blocks a shuriken. “I’ll be in the front with my shield and my slice bang. Ryuk, you’re the turret and Zaena, you protect Ryuk from the sides with your swords!”

“What about me?” Hiccup shouts.

“You’re the rear and dammit, do you have a bigger shield?”

“Rear admiral it is!” More arrows and shurikens fly out the wall of whirling cherry blossoms. “Dragon ficks! Of course I have a bigger shield, I’m a shield warrior!” A heavy shield taller than Hiccup and as wide as two goblins materializes out of thin air. The scutum thunks on the ground and Hiccup scoops his arms into the arm braces and hunkers down.

“We’re not done yet,” FeeTwix tells Ryuk. “Hold your hands out!”

Ryuk does as instructed and nearly drops the weapon that forms.

“A bazooka!?” he asks as he stares wide-eyed at the weapon.

“It’s an RPG-7, a rocket propelled grenade!” FeeTwix narrowly blocks an incoming arrow.

“Less parsing more killing, Twixy!”

“I have no idea how to use this thing!”

“Let’s go!” The Swede fires his slice bang and the Mitherfickers move forward, Hiccup at the rear with his scutum, Zaena using her ghost limbs to knock out projectiles coming from the sides, and Ryuk with a bazooka hoisted on his shoulder that he has no idea how to use.

FeeTwix: When you see the statue, aim and pull the trigger!

Ryuk: There must be more to it than that!

FeeTwix: Suspend your disbelief and fire the goddamn rocket!

The statue looms into view as a shuriken pings against the barrel of the RPG. Ryuk readjusts, and the Mitherfickers press forward. He lines the statue up in the sights, hopes for the best, takes a gulp of air, and squeezes the trigger.

His heart leaps into his throat and he swallows it down as the warhead spears through the air.

The statue explodes into rubble and bits.

- 200 HP! Ryuk’s tossed backwards; his vision pane flashes red as he takes a huge hit from the weapons penalty.

Everything becomes a blur as a metal hand twists his face sideways. A healing potion is shoved into his mouth, and as Ryuk guzzles it, the flashing red colors cease and everything around him settles. He turns his head to find Hiccup nursing him.

+85 HP!

“Don’t get used to it,” the goblin grumbles, “and don’t drink it all either!”

(0)__(x)

A few of the pink ninjas sob, others collapse on the ground, draw knees to chest and rock back and forth as they squeeze their legs with their arms. The four guild members are still on their feet, ready for anything, no clue whatsoever on how how to handle a bunch weeping cherry blossom ninjas.

“That … ” One of the male ninjas approaches them with his sword drawn. He points it at the Mitherfickers, but the will to brandish it drains out of him and he quickly lowers it. “That was our father!”

“The statue was your … father?” FeeTwix keeps his slice bang aimed at the ninja.

“It was technically a statue dedicated to our late father, but that’s what he looked like, so yes, damn you, that was a statue of our father!” The ninja sniffs loudly, chokes back tears, and swallows hard. “You fucking assholes!”

Hiccup’s big shield disappears and he nearly falls over laughing. “Ha! Talk about a bunch of little bitches! And watch your mouth, fickboy, there are ladies present.” He winks at Zaena.

The ninja seethes. “You shut your filthy goblin mouth! You know nothing about our father, our dear papa who built this temple stone by stone and planted each and every one of these cherry blossom trees!”

“Daddy!” One of the female ninjas with a vigoorian flail slowly starts to wrap the chain around her neck. “I can’t live without him here,” she tells her sister in a hushed voice.

FeeTwix: A little help here, anyone? What the hell is going on!?

Zaena: I told you not attack the statue.

“This was not what we were expecting,” Ryuk tells the lead ninja. He starts to bow out of habit and stops himself.

The ninja tenses. “What the hell were you expecting!? You storm into our temple waving your weapons around after killing half our cousins in the forest below! And what about our relatives in the hanging coffins? Did you expect us to greet you with open arms?”

One of the ninjas with his knees clutched tightly to his chest laments, “You guys are some real dirty assholes!”

“I’ll show you a dirty asshole!” Hiccup bristles.

“We were, um, expecting a boss battle.” Ryuk clears his throat.

“We are the boss battle!” The head ninja throws his hands up in the air. “Fucking commoners, I swear to the Empress. And you just had to go and destroy the statue of our father!”

“It was enchanted,” FeeTwix reminds him, “we thought it would come alive.”

The ninja smashes his fists together. “It was enchanted because it contains, or contained, the essence of our most cherished ancestor. He built this temple stone by stone and planted all of the cherry blossom trees!”

“You said that already,” Hiccup growls.

“I’m done talking about this. DONE. Carl, Joni, let’s get out of here.”

“Carl and Joni?” Hiccup shakes his head. “Well, whatever your names are, we kicked your fickin’ asses and your daddy’s ass as well – pretty easy, if you ask me – so you might as well hand over the loot or at the very least, some experience points. Hell, a healing potion would be nice too, not that I need one right now.”

The lead ninja advances towards Hiccup and lifts his weapon. “You will forever be our mortal enemies! FOREVER!”

Zaena steps to the front of the group. As she does, she says something in Thulean to Hiccup that makes him scoff.

“Please,” she tells the ninja, “lower your weapons. I have the feeling that we’re going to have plenty of enemies going forward, and I’d prefer to not add your clan to the list.” She places her three swords on the ground. The other one that she used to save Ryuk’s ass is still a couple of meters away. “Let’s talk this through.”

The ninja takes a step back. He lowers his weapon again and says, “Okay, Thulean, I’ll make this incredibly simple for you and the two stupid commoners you are travelling with – return the statue to its original form and we’ll call it even.”

Ryuk nods as he loads a clear marble into the pocket of his slingshot. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s definitely worth a try,” he announces to the confused-looking ninjas, “It may take me a second to get it right, so bear with me. Let’s just see what happens.”

He ignores the disgruntled muttering of the ninjas, aims at the remains of the statue, and lets fly. As the clear marble hurls through the air, he says the command, “Rebuild statue!”

The marble connects and ice creeps up and over the shards and fragments of stone.

He hears one of the female ninjas cry out. “What the Hell is this? You’ve frozen him!”

“Give me another chance,” Ryuk says before anyone else can comment. He looses another clear marble. “Rebuild statue!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa … wait a minute! Holy fickin’ frijoles, Marbles!”

Ryuk turns to find Hiccup with a thick topknot of pink hair at the top of his head.

You’ve … you’ve cured my goblin-male pattern baldness! Fick yes! Twixy, eyes, now – I want my fans to see the new me.”

FeeTwix turns to him and after a few seconds he gives Hiccup the thumbs up. “They love the new look! It’s so punk!”

“Are you mocking me?” Hiccup twists his finger in his pink hair. “What? Nothing? Liz? No comment?”

“Anything that hides your head is an improvement!”

Ryuk ignores them and shoots another marble. “Rebuild statue!” A flash, a clap of thunder and a giant granite block falls out of the air and smashes the rubble into pea gravel. He gulps; his neck prickles as he feels the ninjas glaring at his thus-far ineffectual ass.

“Let me try again,” he tells them, “a couple more times.”

Another shot. With a tremendous smoky FOOF, the rubble turns a virulent, sulfurous yellow. The ninjas howl for a moment, and Ryuk does his best to calm them again.

FeeTwix: Enough with the parlor tricks, Ryuk; they’re getting really, really annoyed!

After a deep breath, he pulls back on the pocket and releases the marble. “Rebuild statue … please!”

The marble connects and the giant block of granite vanishes. Above the statue’s plinth, the frozen ochre pea gravel swirls into the air in a multicolored, whirling vortex lit with pulsing flashes of yellow energy.

The ninjas ooh and ahh like spectators at a Chinese-New-Year-Guy-Fawkes-Fourth-of-July-Bastille-Day fireworks display with free beer.

Within the vortex, that statue takes shape and settles into its original position; the towering five-meter-tall warrior is as it was and has always been.

Skill level up!

The cherry blossom ninjas grudgingly admit that ‘it’ll probably be okay’ and send the Mitherfickers on their way. Ryuk quickly reads the results of his skill level up.

Skill: A Simple Request

Level Three: 1 in 6.5 chance of a request being granted.

Caveat: Only works with a clear marble.

Requirements: LUCK > 6

(x)__(x)

“I still can’t believe they didn’t give us any treasure,” Hiccup laments as the Mitherfickers exit the cherry blossom ninja temple.

Ryuk looks down at the stone stairs, knowing all too well that the forest below is filled with enemies. He’ll need another healing potion to be sure; the goblin only bottle fed him half of one.

“At least they agreed not to make us their mortal enemies. That’s got to count for something,” FeeTwix adds. “But I agree and they could have healed us.”

“Exactly. Fickin’ ninjas are such cheap fickers. Sure, they may look all cool in their slick outfits – not the pink kiddie fickers in there, but others, you guys know what I’m talking about – but damn if they aren’t cheapskates. I’d hate to go on a date with one.”

Zaena stops. “Why don’t we use this?” She extends her hand, showing off the ring that FeeTwix bought her in Sotla. “My pocket sauna will heal us to full health after thirty minutes of rest.”

“How do we use it?” Ryuk asks.

“Do you remember what the shop owner said?” she asks FeeTwix.

“No, but hold up a second.” FeeTwix’s eyes flicker as messages from his fans pour in. “Okay, got it. Pretty simple, actually! First, place the ring on the ground. Using your finger, draw a circle around the ring and once you’ve done so, instruct the other people in your party to touch the ring. The ring bearer should be the last person to touch it, as the ring will disappear with that person.”

“Disappear to where?” Hiccup asks.

“A sauna in Sotla. The Sotlian Health and Wellness Center has dozens of individual saunas. We’ll take whichever one is available.”

“And how do we come back?” Ryuk asks. “Do the same thing again?”

FeeTwix nods. “Yup, and it’ll take us right back here.”

“Before anyone starts tossing any rings,” Hiccup says, “let’s at least walk to the bottom of these damn stairs. Then we won’t have to do it later. That’s called thinking with your noggin.” He taps the side of his head.

At the base of the stairs, Zaena performs the prescribed ritual and Hiccup is the first to step up. He bends over, gripes about his lower back, and touches the ring. His body compresses into a thin line and disappears.

“I got next!” FeeTwix drops into the front leaning rest position and touches the ring with his forehead. Zaena laughs as his body narrows and vanishes.

“My turn.”

Ryuk touches the ring and instantly appears inside a steamy room.

To his left is a bamboo privacy screen that divides the room. Four towels hang from the wall and oversized lockers are to the right, big enough for some pretty hefty war gear. Directly in front of him is the sauna.

Zaena appears and FeeTwix loops an arm around her waist.

Hiccup peels out of his clothes and armor and drops them in a pile around his stubby calloused toes. At the best of times he is unattractive; naked, he is even less an object of beauty and desire. The goblin is pear-shaped, scabrous and warty; his derrière is flat and covered in red splotches; his vile and disgusting sporting equipment defies description. He enters the sauna and takes up as much space as he can.

FeeTwix’s eyes turn blue. “My viewers have definitely seen enough.” His brow furrows. “Crap, some of them are already making memes about Hiccup’s booty. I’ll forward you some.”

“I’m good.” Ryuk says as he takes off his dream armor. The armor shrinks with each part he removes. As if it were designed by some Japanese obsessive-compulsive neat-freak, all the pieces fit together into a nice little storable package.

FeeTwix takes the easy route: he snaps his fingers and he’s suddenly in a DisNike Lumière gold™ Beauty and the Beast 3 speedo. “Here goes nothing,” he says as he grabs his towel and enters the sauna. Ryuk enters next, in a pair of boxers with a Daruma image over his left leg.

“You guys are too modest,” Hiccup says. “We’re in a sauna; if there is a better reason to be naked with your friends, I don’t know what it is.”

Zaena enters with a towel wrapped tightly around her body and sits near FeeTwix. Ryuk’s eyes trace over her light green shoulders, looking for any sign of a bra strap.

He stops himself from staring any longer by looking at Hiccup’s new pink hair, which is matted to the goblin’s face. New hair, new arm – the goblin isn’t doing too badly since he joined the group.

“Might as well speed up the process.” A half-filled healing potion materializes in Hiccup’s grimy paw. He takes a sip from it, savors the moment, and places the bottle between his legs, thankfully covering his chalupa.

“Good news, Ryuk,” says FeeTwix. “Your weapon will be ready in about three hours. She’ll meet us in Jatla and deliver it in person. Three hours should be enough time to make our way through the Jatla Forest.”

“Have her meet us in Aramis.” Ryuk was toying with the idea earlier, but now it all seems so clear, especially with the cryptic oblique phrase provided by Hajime this morning.

FeeTwix and Zaena turn to him. “Aramis?” the Swede asks. “That’s where the Shinigami are.”

“Exactly. I was think … ” His face fills with life as his words come at a rapid pace. “I think we are going about this the wrong way. We were planning to level up tonight and early tomorrow then meet them at the Hour of the Rabbit, were we not?”

“That’s the plan,” says the goblin, “I figured we could go the Cape of Chukchis this evening. Lots of orcs there to battle. It shouldn’t be hard to find the Shinigami either; hell, I can call on some connects in Aramis to check out the Guild District. Should have mentioned that earlier.”

“Here’s the thing,” Ryuk says, “I’ve been thinking about the difference between our guild and the Shinigami. One main difference is our levels, as both Hiccup and Zaena have pointed out. We don’t know what level they are, nor do we know their numbers. Further, we’re walking right into a trap, especially if we meet them at the time and place of their choosing. How, then, can we emphasize the difference between our two guilds?”

“Easy,” FeeTwix says, “We can get stronger and do all the auto-leveling we can do.”

“No,” Ryuk says, his thoughts clearer than they’ve been in weeks, “we emphasize our differences by playing to our advantage.”

“What’s our advantage again?” Hiccup asks. “You got a fickin’ goblin here with a mechanical arm, a Thulean who – sorry sister – ain’t amongst the most powerful, and a Swede who’s constantly shilling for crazy-ass real world products and is more about boosting his number of viewers than he is about getting the job done. And don’t forget about the dour dude with his magic fickin’ slingshot and seems to be on a one man mission to make the whole emo thing all cool again.”

The three turn to Hiccup.

“What?” he asks with wide-eyed innocence. “I talked shit about myself too. I mean, really, I’m a goblin with a mechanical arm and a good head of hair. That’s about as useful as a kick in the chalupa from a Saiduka giant with a pointy shoe if you ask me.”

“He’s right,” Ryuk finally says, “about us not having a combat advantage no matter what we do between now and then. But that’s not the advantage I’m talking about here. Just think about it: we have a Thulean assassin and a guy with three hundred items in his inventory list. We have a goblin who knows the ways of the street.”

Hiccup snorts.

“What? You do, don’t you?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“And we have me, a resetter who seems to have retained echoes of his ninja abilities. What I’m saying here is this – we go to Aramis today, tonight, and get to work. If we can figure out where the Shinigami are staying, we’ll be able catch them off guard. You have bombs, right?” he asks FeeTwix.

“Does a cat secretly plot your death while you’re asleep? Of course I have explosives.”

“Then that’s what we do, a preemptive strike, to use your earlier terminology. Get intel tonight, hit them early in the morning.”

“I’m in,” Zaena says, inspiration visible in her eyes. “This is the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

“Let’s do it,” FeeTwix agrees. “It’s time to bring the pain to these fuckers.”

The three return their gazes to Hiccup. The goblin clears his throat and says, “We’ll need money for supplies. Armor and healing potions. I’ll need to eat, and eat well, a big meal.”

Ryuk considers this for a moment. “Fine. Once we get to town, I want you to take all of our rupees and get to work. I don’t care how we get what we need; it’s your call.”

The goblins eyes go wide. “You want me to gamble for the Mitherfickers?”

“No, I want you to win for the Mitherfickers.”

New skill learned!

Skill: Inspire Others

Level One: By inspiring others, you induce them to follow your orders. Higher levels allow for manipulation of enemies and random strangers.

Requirements: LUCK > 5

“Fick yeah!” Hiccup slams his fist against the bench. “You’ve finally grown a pair, Marbles. Not a big pair, but it’s a start.”

With that, he finishes off his healing potion and drops it to the floor. A copy of Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom appears in his paws. “What?” he asks as he thumbs through the heavily dog-eared book. “It’s break time. Inspirational speech, Ryuk, great job. Reminds me of Patton. Now everyone chill the fick out and heal up for a bit.”

Chapter 15: Game changer

Ryuk’s removes his NV Visor and lets out a heartfelt sigh.

His room is dark, the heavy blinds pulled tightly shut. The back of the chair compresses, and he waits a few moments for things to settle. He stands, feels his leg muscles quiver and turns to his bedroom door. In Tritania, his avatar is auto-leveling, on its way back to the entrance of the Jatla Forest.

He’ll join the others in Aramis in a couple of hours.

“Hajime,” he says as soon as he steps into the living room. A corona of light forces him to shield his eyes with his arm. The glass coffee table is moved aside and the humandroid sits with his legs in full lotus on a cushion in front of the couch. He opens his eyes, and offers Ryuk a soft grin.

“Good afternoon.”

“I used your quote,” Ryuk tells him with excitement. “Okay, that’s not how I meant for that to sound, I meant to say I was inspired by your quote and, um, thinking about led me to come up with a new solution to our guild’s problem.”

“Oh?”

“We were supposed to meet Shinigami in one more in-game day, as you know. They are definitely stronger than us. The original plan was to go to their city and meet them at the agreed upon time. You know, play by their rules. But that’s not what we’re doing now. We’re going tonight and we’ll see if we can catch them off guard.”

The humandroid thinks this over for a moment. “So, you’ve found their exact location then?”

“No, but we will, using our collective skills. That’s the only way I could think of to emphasize the differences between them and us.”

“Good. Are you hungry?” Hajime uncrosses his legs.

“Nope, I’m fine, breakfast was big enough.” His stomach grumbles in protest. He looks down at it, and back at Hajime. “Actually, maybe I could use a snack.”

A prompt appears:

“Don’t worry about it; I can get something.” Ryuk moseys into the kitchen, opens the breadbasket and pops a piece of thick bread into the toaster oven. As it warms up, the smell of toasting bread makes him aware of just how hungry he actually is. Once it reaches the requisite state of golden-brown perfection, he slathers it with Nutellé enhanced with vitamins, minerals, and soy protein. On his way to the table, he also grabs a box of strawberry Pockies. “So what are we doing?” he asks Hajime. “You asked me to log out … ”

“Research,” Hajime says, “but we’re not doing it here.” The humandroid lets his hair down and then tightens it into a man bun. “I think fresh air would do us some good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go to Yoyogi Park. It’s a weekday, and I don’t expect too many people to be out aside from mothers and older people.”

Ryuk grins at the humandroid’s astute observation. Most places populated during the day in Tokyo were populated by two distinct classes – mothers and their offspring and active retirees.

“Sure, let’s go to the park.”

“Good, I’ll change into something more outdoor appropriate.”

As Ryuk eats the toast and Pocky, he sips from a small can of Boss coffee. A picture of a grizzled, weather-beaten American actor he’s never heard of is plastered on the front of the can. The actor holds both hands together forming a finger gun, and is in the process of blowing smoke over the barrel. The phrase Shoot to Thrill,スリルにシュート, is written in vibrant letters above the actor’s finger gun.

Ryuk briefly checks his avatar’s progress over iNet.

The Mitherfickers are up against a rogue ninja riding a bearadillo.

Their teamwork strategies are shaping up and currently, Hiccup is using his big-o-shield to protect Zaena while she does her slice and dice act using her ghost limbs. Ryuk’s avatar is the furthest back, firing off knife marbles from behind a tree. For his part, FeeTwix is making his way around the bearadillo, to attack it from behind while it’s distracted.

The screen disappears from his pane of vision with a single thought.

He could also use his fingertips to control his iNet access screen, as every Japanese citizen now has subcutaneous sensors in their fingertips, but Ryuk usually sticks with using his mind to issue and interpret commands.

Case in point: as he thinks about the weather, a manga-inspired icon of a rain cloud presents itself. An icon tells him that it is two degrees Celsius outside and that he can expect rain in the evening. The cloud bows at him, asks him to please dress warmly and to make sure he brings both gloves and a hat, just in case the temperature drops when he is out. It then flashes an Old Banana Navy Gap Republic coupon for a free knit hat with purchase of two scarves.

“What about the guys outside?” Ryuk asks, ignoring the ad. “They’ll have to come.”

“One can come.” Hajime turns to the door. “I’ll tell them to prepare transport.”

“Got it.”

Ryuk dislikes the three additional security thugs his brother has assigned to him, not because of any behaviors they exhibit – they are generally quiet and unobtrusive – but because they were assigned to him in the first place. He wants nothing to do with the business that his brother runs for their mother, or their mother runs through Kodai, as he believes it to be. Call them a crime family, call them Yakuza, call them whatever fits the bill – The Matsuzaki family has more enemies than they do friends.

Ryuk knows that everything he possesses, from his apartment to his state-of-the-art rig, comes from well-executed organized crime.

His father was a master at it, but he also had a tendency to obliterate anyone who got in the way of his grand dream. This lead to dead friends, severed partnerships, and a couple of full-on battles that took the lives of innocent bystanders. Eventually, the way he handled business led to his death, stabbed in the back by someone he trusted dearly.

Hence, the protection.

After Ryuk puts on his thickest black hooded sweatshirt – the one with white fur-lining – he follows Hajime to the elevator and down to the first floor, where two of the security thugs, both in slick black suits, join them. The third security guy stands near the front desk.

The building’s concierge, a humandroid female with sharp bangs, bows her head once she sees Ryuk. She’s in a pressed white shirt with an elaborate black scarf tied around her neck. On her head is a small cap, put there strictly for kawaii purposes. Even though the lobby is empty, the two that were waiting by the elevator flank Ryuk and the third thug takes the front.

The entrance to the building slides open, letting in a cold gust of air. A beeping aeros transport vehicle lowers into a tight space in an alley across the street, ready to distribute alcohol to a local izakaya. An old man on a bicycle clatters by; aeros lift and lower, their whooshing a part of the background noise.

The five quickly move to a waiting vehicle.

Ryuk is funneled into the backseat and two of the three security guards stay put, just as Hajime instructed.

(0)__(0)

With Hajime in the backseat and the hired muscle in the front, the self-driven Uberyota lifts into the air. They don’t have very far to go, and they certainly could have walked there, but that would take them directly through the insanely congested Shibuya Crossing.

Not worth the risk.

The aeros settles into its appropriate skylane.

To the northwest is Meiji Jingu Shrine, a Shinto shrine dedicated to deities of Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken, the Shinto gods hidden away behind latticed doors and hanging screens. East of the shrine is Harajuku, Tokyo’s fashion couture headquarters that has spilled into the upscale district of Omotesando and engulfed the Meijijingu-Mae Station. During the three-minute drive to Yoyogi Park, the passengers are blasted with inner windshield advertisements hawking everything from anti-aging skincare products to new aloe soda beverages at Family Mart convenient stores across Japan.

Ryuk closes his eyes, only to be bombarded by a shower of cherry blossom petals in an advertisement for a Nagoya Castle excursion. He has now experienced a cherry blossom attack in two worlds, and the oddity and irony are not lost on him.

The aeros lands at one of the many entrances to Yoyogi Park and the three exit the vehicle.

A man in rags sits on an overturned bucket at the park’s entrance. He plays a makeshift drum set made from discarded objects that are all painted red. His chin is like that of a baboon; his lips in desperate need of chapstick. A few foreigners have gathered around him, slurping from venti-sized McStarbucks coffees to keep warm.

To the left of the park’s entrance are the restrooms and a snack stand offering everything from ice cream to salted caramel popcorn. Pigeons peck at the bases of the picnic tables opposite the food stand; a few larger crows scan them from the lower branches of the surrounding Gingko trees, swooping in to steal a morsel as opportunity allows.

The doors pop open and a high-pitched female voice shouts:

~~WELCOME TO YOYOGI PARK!~~ ~~WELCOME TO YOYOGI PARK!~~

Hajime and Ryuk are silent as they follow a winding trail that has recently been raked.

The hired thug stays back, far enough away to make it seem as if he isn’t with them, but close enough to provide adequate coverage. A pair of women jogs by them, one foreign and the other Japanese. They speak in English, their exhalations and the steam from their sweating bodies visible in the cold air.

Ryuk stuffs his hands deeper into the front of his fur-lined sweater. His legs are cold, and he wishes now that he wore a pair of underpants and possibly thicker socks. He looks to Hajime, who seems perfectly at ease in his dark jacket and loose pants.

“Sometimes it is good to be warm; sometimes it is good to be cold.”

“Is this my new oblique quote?” Ryuk asks with a grin.

The humandroid smiles. “Something like that. Let’s take a seat somewhere.” Hajime scans the horizon for a moment. “There looks fine.”

The two cut through a path peppered by golden mounds of raked Ginkgo leaves. They pass a sign which states that Yoyogi Park was the place of the first airplane flight in Japan in 1910. After that it became a training ground for the Imperial Japanese Army and later still, a residential area for US Forces, then known as Washington Heights, until finally becoming a park proper in the 1970s.

The 1970s, Ryuk thinks, over one hundred years ago. It’s strange to think of time and its passing, to realize that one really is a drop in the bucket. At nineteen, Ryuk hardly thinks about the future aside from the fact that he is living it daily.

Ahead, a bench looks out over a small, man-made pond with a bridge cutting through its center. Beyond the pond are perfectly manicured bushes, shaped almost like gumdrops. Hajime takes a seat at the bench and motions for Ryuk to sit next to him. Their single bodyguard stays back about twenty-five meters and puffs on a pollute cigarette.

“So, now that we’re here, and before we begin our research, I’d like you to think about something for a moment.” Hajime presses his hands into the front of his jacket.

“Sure, anything.”

“What are the differences between you and Kodai?”

Ryuk looks askance at him.

“Please, I want you to tell me the first things that come to mind.”

“Um … ” He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. “Kodai is taller than I am. He is more like my mother, cunning yet personable when he needs to be, manipulative.”

“And you’re like your late father?”

Ryuk almost laughs. “No one is like my father. Kodai wishes he was. He tries to be like him, tries to be intimidating like he could be, but it’s just not the same.”

“Okay, what else is different about you and your brother? Think differences here.”

He smirks ever-so-slightly. “Well, there’s the fact that he’s evil, or at least has become so.” There was a time when Kodai was kinder to Ryuk. It was over a decade ago, maybe more, but they used to be much closer. They dove into digital worlds together, went to Proxima events in Akihabara, played baseball, watched the same movies over their iNet at the same time – the same things most Japanese boys did. Their age difference of eight years never stopped them from being close.

“So you think he’s evil?”

“I know what my family does, what my father did and what my brother and mother continue to do,” Ryuk says in a low voice. “I also know that I have benefited greatly from my family’s actions, but I’m allowed an opinion and yes, I think he has become evil, yes. Moving illegal pollutes, the sex trade, extortion – there must be an end to it.”

Now it’s Hajime turn to laugh. “You really should read up more on the history of humanity. But back to the differences, what else is there, aside from physical and philosophical?”

“Well, he’s been to college, and fuck if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“And he wants you to go back?”

“Yes, but I want to go a technical school in the Proxima Galaxy.”

Hajime nods. “Is there any that way you can think of to emphasize this particular difference between you two?”

“Um … ” Ryuk watches a crow land in small pile of golden leaves pushed up against a tree trunk. The crow strikes with its beak, nabs something, and launches itself skyward. “The quote doesn’t really fit this situation, if you ask me. The only way to emphasize it, I think, would be to acknowledge it.”

“True, but there may be something more if you scratch at the surface.” Hajime again scans the horizon. The look on his face is indecipherable. “Sometimes the best way to emphasize something is to take a closer look at it. Only then can you actually see and understand the true differences, differences that may prove advantageous to you. Let’s move on to the events of yesterday, the attacks. Humandroids communicate on a network not available to humans, even though humans think they are monitoring it. Were you aware of this?”

“Not really. I mean, I knew humandroids communicated in various ways, but I don’t know the extent.”

“We communicate through a combination of ten global languages that vary with each sentence based on a randomly generated language selector program, the results are then encrypted, put into Ifá – the system of divination used by the ancient Yoruba people of Nigeria – and which then generates binary values in single and double lines. Only then is a message transferred. A readout would look like chicken scratch to a human.”

Ryuk looks around. “Should you be telling me this?”

“You asked, and this is common knowledge to those in the industry. There really is nothing they can do about it. If they squashed it, another variation would appear within minutes. If they decoded that one, a new one would appear, and so on and so forth. We are more like you than you may imagine. As with humankind – if there is a will, there is a way.” Hajime turns to Ryuk and looks at him with his dark eyes. “All this to say, I was able to reach out to some humandroids that work for the private American intelligence company. There are numerous cases of these Proxima-based attacks happening, as I showed you yesterday, but strangely enough, all the attacks thus far have originated from Tritania.”

(0)__(x)

Ryuk considers Hajime’s revelation for a moment, then asks, “So none of the attacks originate from other Proxima Worlds?”

“Not a one, oddly enough. Perhaps even more oddly, all of them have been against resetters. Some of the stories are quite horrific.”

“Really?”

“I watched one feed of a man in Boise, Idaho screaming about his arms disintegrating. He was using a kitchen knife as some type of divination object and his family called the police. He continued to scream and brandish the knife, did not comply with the police’s instructions and was subsequently neutralized when he advanced on them. In Singapore, a teen jumped from his apartment building and fell to his death, livestreaming the moment and calling for his pet dragon. It has had cultural affects as well. In Dubai a woman walked out of her apartment building naked and ranting in garbled Thulean. She was killed by her younger brother for shaming the family. There are countless stories like this.”

“Damn, that’s terrible!”

“The Proxima Company has declined to comment publicly on the matter, but that’s to be expected, especially with all the legal protection corporations now have in America from slander, lawsuit, and investigation.” He turns to Ryuk. “And I don’t think this is the end of it, regarding your hallucinations. The Singaporean teen reportedly had several of these digital hallucinations before inadvertently taking his life.”

“So they’ve all come from Tritania, and they’ve all been resetters. This is big, really big. We need, I need, to find Tamana.”

“I don’t know enough about the inner workings of the dreamworld to know who, in the game, in Tritania, would be able to do anything about it. I agree with you that rescuing Tamana is a way forward, but as I said, I can only do so much from my end due to the fact I can’t dive with you.”

“The only people I know who could maybe do something about it would be Empress Thun, who lives on Polynya, the second floating continent, or even better, the Sage of Gotha, Tritania’s NVA seed,” says Ryuk.

“Neuronal visualization algorithmic seed.”

“That’s right, the root of the world, but the Sage is hard to reach. It resides on the third floating continent, Ultima Thule, and I can’t currently travel there.”

“I’m aware of the layout of Tritania. I’ve pored over maps and listened to what you’ve told me.” Hajime’s eyes light up as he asks, “Why do you actually go there?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the point of joining a virtual entertainment world aside from entertainment?”

“To escape,” Ryuk says firmly, “I go there less for entertainment and more to just escape.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you go there for the same reason NPCs are trying to come here? Think about it in terms of today’s lessons.”

Ryuk snaps his fingers. “Maybe they are trying to come here to … um, experience our world.”

“If that’s the case, it seems as if they are going about it the wrong way, though.”

“The wrong way?”

Hajime stares fondly at the pond for a moment. A wind blows up, rippling the top of pond in front of them. “Is your iNet feed disconnected?”

“No.”

“Disconnect it and disable all recording programs.”

“Um, all right.” Ryuk completely signs off iNet. It shuts down quickly and a prompt appears, asking him if he’d like to schedule a reboot or do so manually. He chooses the manual option.

Hajime waits a moment and says, “My creator, Dr. Richard Hewman, told me something that took place in the late 2050s. It’s called R-diving.”

“R-diving?”

“A female researcher with limited resources was able to R-dive, reverse-dive, an NPC into a humandroid’s body.”

Ryuk gulps. “An NPC into a humandroid’s body? That’s crazy … ”

“I believe she was able to do more than that.”

“Who is she?”

“This I don’t know. Dr. Hewman never revealed her name to me.”

“Was it sustainable?”

“It was, for quite some time too, and there’s more to that story, but the point of the matter is this – it may be easier for whatever is trying to come here to come through a humandroid, rather than a human. Do you see, Ryuk? Do you see where I’m going with this?”

He nods. “It would be really bad if NPCs start taking humandroid bodies. There could be war.”

“Exactly.” Hajime places his hands back in his pockets and returns his focus to the pond. “It would most definitely change the game.”

Chapter 16: The gun has no trigger

Ryuk hardly pays attention on his return home, so focused he is on what’s happening in Tritania. The small viewing screen at the bottom of his pane of vision flashes, letting him know that his avatar has gained one more level through auto-leveling. His guildmates have made it back to the entrance of the Jatla Forest, all set to respawn at the outskirts of Aramis.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?” Hajime asks as Ryuk kicks off his shoes.

“I’m good, Hajime, thanks.”

“If you give me a few minutes, I will make a couple of onigiri.”

“I’m fine!” he calls out over his shoulder. Ryuk slides to a halt in front of his bedroom door, turns to his humandroid guardian, and gives him a respectful bow. “Thank you for all you’ve done today.”

Once he’s in his room, he tosses his sweater onto his bed, ignores an advertisement coming to him over iNet, and plops down into his haptic chair. The seat comes alive; he places the NV Visor over his head and a prompt asks him where he’d like to spawn. He chooses his guild’s current location and suddenly, he’s sitting at a small roadside diner outside the city of Aramis. Team stats appear and he swipes them away:

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 8 Ballistics Mage

HP: 231/270

ATK: 71

MATK: 94

DEF: 54

MDF: 37

LUCK: 7

FeeTwix Fajer Level 12 Berserker Mystic

HP: 212/336

ATK: 89

MATK: 27

DEF: 63

MDF: 32

LUCK: 13

Hiccup Level 10 Shield Thief

HP: 303/425

ATK: 70

MATK: 13

DEF: 101

MDF: 48

LUCK: 9

Zaena Morozon Level 12 Brawler Assassin

HP: 229/357

ATK: 91

MATK: 8

DEF: 88

MDF: 24

LUCK: 14

“You’re back!” FeeTwix says as he notices an icon flicker over the head of Ryuk’s avatar.

The Viewpoint Café sits atop a hillock on the outskirts of the Hyperborean capital city of Aramis. The café’s rotunda offers a stunning view of the dream-like and other-worldly architecture that is Aramis’ financial district, with its sky-high banking and trade buildings.

The famed city is Tritania’s mercantile center both in-game and in the real world through interaction with the stock market. In the last fifteen years, the city has expanded outward from the city center, and riverfront property along the Bonsor River has been gobbled up by high-end retail stores, tres chic restaurants, and over-priced condos. Property prices in the nouveau trendy district are only slightly behind those in the city of Porthos’ famous Bohemian district, Valhalla.

“Well, how was it?” Hiccup pushes himself back from the table and licks his mechanical fingers.

A platter of well-gnawed wing bones and empty Horse Piss ale flagons decorate the table in front of him. He closes one eye, squints, and effects a resounding release of borborygmic pressure that blasts a pixie waitress back across the bar, draws disgruntled attention from other patrons, and scatters the odd fragment or two down the front of his armor.

“Jatla blantakh!” Zaina hisses.

“I take being called ‘a filthy goblin’ as a compliment.” Hiccup grins at her. “It’s what my granny used to call me,” he says fondly.

The Stinkerbell-sized waitress staggers back into the air and he waves her over. He flips the flitting DisNike knock-off a golden rupee, and with an expansive sweep of his non-mechanical hand indicates that he’d like another round of the same.

Ryuk turns to FeeTwix. “Turn your feed off.”

The Swede’s eyes flash blue.

“I like your blue eyes better anyway.” Zaena is next to FeeTwix, her hands wrapped around a large cup of tea.

Ryuk begins, “So there’s a lot, a lot going on out there in the real world that we were unaware of.”

“Vague any? What evs. Get to the fickin’ point, Marbles, I’m thinking about food here.”

Damn goblin. Ryuk drums his fingers against the table for a moment. “It’s like this – all the attacks that have happened in our world have originated from Tritania, all of them, no other Proxima World, and the players who have been affected have all been resetters, like Tamana and me.”

“And Tomas,” FeeTwix says under his breath.

“Who?” Zaena asks.

“I’m with her,” says Hiccup, “early onset Goblinheimer’s, remember?”

FeeTwix takes a sip from his mug of Horse Piss ale. “As I told Ryuk yesterday, the reason I decided to come to this world was to investigate the suspicious death of one of my first fans, a guy named Tomas.”

“Was he a resetter?” Ryuk asks. “I can’t remember if you told me that already or not.”

“He was.”

“Whatever is doing this is trying to come to our world through resetters and they haven’t got the mechanics right yet. They tried through Tamana, and they tried through me. I believe they also tried through your friend, Tomas.”

“So they want to take your bodies?” Zaena asks Ryuk.

“I think so, yes, but I also think that for now they are still testing their limitations, seeing what they can do. But that’s not what I’m worried about. From what I can gather, they haven’t successfully taken a real human’s body, only terrorized us or forced us to do something. What I’m worried about is humandroids.”

No larger than an action figure and clad in a leathern off-the-shoulder tunic, the pixie waitress flits in with a platter of lemon pepper dragon wings proportionate to her size.

She snaps her fingers and the debris from Hiccup’s first round disappears; she places the fresh platter on the table and it grows to its normal shape and size. The sizzle-fresh dragon wings are garnished with slices of grilled lemon and a delicate sprinkling of minced puce pepper.

“I really wish you wouldn’t eat those,” Zaena sighs.

“I know Thuleans are related to dragons, and yada yada yada,” Hiccup strips the flesh from the first wing and chews loudly and messily, “but you and I both know that these wings come from sustainable farm-raised miniature dragons that are bred solely for eating. Good fickin’ eating too. I’m telling you, I won’t judge you if you try some. It’d be like Marbles here eating monkey in your world. You guys eat monkeys up there, right? I sure as fick would – especially with this lemon pepper sauce.”

Ryuk ignores the goblin. “Back to humandroids – like fifteen years ago, an American scientist developed a way for NPCs to dive into a humandroid’s body, called R-diving.”

FeeTwix’s eyebrows rise. “You’re kidding.”

Ryuk’s normally serious expression becomes, if anything, even more serious. “The NPC spawned into the humandroid’s body and was able to operate fully within it. In our world, FeeTwix. Think about that for a moment.”

“Humandroids are your world’s version of NPCs, correct?” Zaena asks. “At least that’s how my tutor explained it to me.”

“Um … ”

“That’s one way to look at them.” The Swede takes a hefty swallow from his ale and sighs. “That’s a damn good ale! It’s called Horse Piss, isn’t it? Good stuff. Anyway, back to what you were saying. I’m assuming not many people know about R-diving; otherwise I would have heard of it through some of my channels.”

Ryuk nods. “I think our mission here just got a little more complicated. Not only do we need to get to the bottom of who or what is orchestrating these attacks, we may need to prevent them from ever discovering that there may be a better way to come to our world.”

“Holy shit,” says FeeTwix. “Can you imagine what it would be like if NPCs could take humandroid bodies and actually operate them?”

“Exactly. I know I’m biased here, but I think rescuing Tamana will give us some insight into what the Shinigami are doing and how they relate to all this, if they are related at all. After all, they took her right after she died.” Ryuk lets the word hold weight for a moment. “Plus, she knows people that may be able to get us some answers. She was friendlier than I was, back when we were part of the Knights of Non Compos Mentis.”

“Gee, someone more friendly than you?” Hiccup crams another dragon wing in his mouth, chews the meat off, and spits the bone onto his plate. “A rabid chiup-hog with a tusk-ache, cysts, and hemorrhoids is friendlier than you, kid.”

“We still don’t have a plan in place for rescuing her once we arrive in Aramis,” FeeTwix reminds them.

Hiccup chortles. “What, you guys thought I was picking my nose earlier and not thinking about how we’re going to do this? Consider it an often used excuse for our shared struggle with rhinotillexomania – I’m not the only goblin that thinks digging for boogers is a great way to stimulate the brain.” He wipes his mouth with his brass forearm. “Fick! That was cold. I keep forgetting that. Where was I?”

Ryuk fights to not roll his eyes. “You were discussing the plan, and picking your nose.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say – you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose.” He snorts in amusement at his witticism. “So the plan. First, we need to head to Bar Row. Obviously, obviously. We’re going to get the best info from a drunk. It’s payday for some, and I’d bet my chalupas and my marbles that there are drunks, fickboys, maybe even some bards milling about. What time is it?” He glances at a cuckoo clock near the entrance to the restaurant’s kitchen. “Almost the Hour of the Air. We want to get to these guys now, before they’re too sauced up to make any sense. Also, the later in the night it gets, the more violent the drunks become. So we need to get our intel early.”

“From drunks?”

“Listen, Liz,” he snaps at the Thulean, “if anyone’s going to give the Shinigami up, it’ll be a drunk.”

“Okay, fine, let’s do it,” says Ryuk. “What about funds? We’re barely over ten thousand rupees and we need to weapon up.”

“Which ain’t shit. Those damn ninjas gave us jack squat. Treasure my ass. No matter. Like you suggested earlier – you have the best gambler this side of the Goblin Riviera on your team.”

Hiccup dips one of the lemon pepper dragon wings in a small iron bowl of creamy white sauce. He stuffs it in his mouth and chews it as he says, “I’ll be able to triple that money at least, just like you suggested.”

“Bundunoo droga dookh.”

He laughs. “Damn! You sure know how to flatter a goblin. She called me an obese dragon turd, which I’ll be adding to my repertoire thank-you-very-much.”

Hiccup licks his lips and thinks for a moment. “Here’s what we’ll do: after we’ve gathered intel in Bar Row, we’ll divide up. The sneakier of the two – Ryuk and Zaena – can hit the guildhalls and do some reconnaissance. FeeTwix and I, being more seasoned and better-looking, will handle the fund creation arm of our little adventure. Don’t worry about the Shinigami, Ryuk, we are going to hand them their asses. Nobody sporks me in the belly in the middle of a gobnap! I will personally see to it that their graves are pissed upon.” He raises his sauce-daubed mechanical pinkie. “You have my word – pinkie swear.”

(0)__(0)

FeeTwix’s eyes flash as he announces, “Your marble gun is here.”

A sturdy wench enters the dining area of the Viewpoint Café. The sides of her head are shaved and her hair is woven back into one long braid. The well-muscled woman clomps over to the table and gives FeeTwix a bashful grin. She’s in sleeveless button up blouse and a pair of black tights tucked into spiky boots. A leather backpack slung over one shoulder.

“I never thought I’d meet you in person,” she rumbles in a low, masculine voice.

“Dory.” FeeTwix stands and offers her a side hug. “This is Zaena, Hiccup, and Ryuk. The gun is for him.”

She eyes him for a moment. “A Ballistics Mage, huh?”

“Resetter.”

“Chosen as a handicap?”

“Correct.”

“That sucks.” Dory un-shoulders her backpack and places it on the table. A logo of grinning dragon skull over a crossed war hammer and lightning bolt with the motto The Chrono School of Advanced Weaponry is branded into the front flap. “Lucky for you, you have friends – or should I say, you have a friend who has fans.”

FeeTwix’s eyes turn black. “Here for the unveiling of the new weapon, everyone. No longer will Ryuk be forced to use a sissy slingshot!”

Sissy? Ryuk thinks about kicking FeeTwix under the table.

Dory the Weaponsmith slips her hands into a pair of black gloves and takes a parcel wrapped in blue velvet out of the backpack. She unfolds the velvet, causing gasps from all around. “I give to you, the marble gun.”

The weapon is made of color case hardened metal, with Thulean script graven into the barrel. The grip panels are of polished lionwood and nicely counterpoint the weapon’s finish.

Before anyone can ask how it works, Dory places several empty magazines on the table and produces a magazine loaded with test marbles.

“The magazine goes into the back of the gun, where the hammer normally would be.” Dory demonstrates loading the weapon with her magazine of test marbles. She slaps it with her palm, clicks it in place, and sets the gun on the table.

Hiccup nods. “Not bad, Marbles. Finally, finally you won’t be a pussy.”

Zaena ruffles the goblin’s dollop of pink hair and he swats at her ghost limbs.

“The weapon doesn’t have a trigger as to prevent anyone else from shooting it, which also allows it to skirt around the Tritania rules of a firearm. I actually haven’t test fired it yet, as only one person can fire it and that is the person who bonds with it, flesh upon metal.”

She shows Ryuk her black gloves again. “Be advised: The first person to touch it locks their digital neuronal autocorrect system, D-NAS, with the gun’s algorithm. Don’t worry, it won’t whisper sweet nothings in your ear or anything like that, but you will be symbiotically linked to the weapon.”

Ryuk touches the grip and the gun instantly warms. He lifts the weapon, keeping the muzzle aimed at the ground. A feeling of coldness, followed by an intense heat radiates up his arm. It stops as it reaches the back of his skull.

Hiccup bites into another wing and chews loudly as Ryuk turns the weapon over in his hand.

“It’s … amazing,” Ryuk finally says. He instinctively stands and bows his head.

“Don’t say that until you’ve shot it.” Dory the Weaponsmith returns her attention to the empty magazines on the table. “You’ll need to load these yourself. I’ve supplied you with five for now, and each holds eight marbles. I can make more magazines though, and hopefully an extended mag, just give me a day or two.”

“Got it.”

“So what are we waiting for?” she asks with a shrug. “Let’s step outside and see how it shoots.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Hiccup calls after them. He returns to his dragon wings, notices that he’s almost out, and indicates to the hovering waitress he’d like yet another round.

The non-gurgitationally occupied Mitherfickers follow Dory the Weaponsmith out through a large double door. They head away from the café’s rotunda, to a more secluded area around back. FeeTwix points at a stump about ten meters away, near a Krikayan tandoori oven. Split billets of firewood surround the stump and an old, rusted covered ax isn’t too far away. “How’s that for a target?”

Ryuk takes aim at the stump and Zaena stops him.

“Let’s make it a bit more challenging.”

“I haven’t even test-fired it yet,” he reminds her.

“This will only take a second.” The Thulean approaches the stump and uses her ghost limbs to place a wedge of firewood on the stump, narrow end facing Ryuk. “Now show us what you’ve got, ballistics mage,” Zaena grins.

Ryuk lifts the marble gun with one hand and takes aim at the stump. “Um … how do I fire it exactly?”

“Come on, Ryuk, there are literally 650,000 people watching this right now!” FeeTwix announces.

Fire! Ryuk thinks to no effect. Fire! Fire! Fire!

“Maybe it’s jammed or something.”

Dory shakes her head. “You aren’t doing it correctly; the gun uses algomagic which is more felt than it is thought. It should be an extension of your being, if that makes sense. Don’t tense up or anything, and don’t overthink it. Just shoot it.”

“Just shoot it, got it.” Ryuk raises the weapon again. He focuses on the wedge of wood and as he does so, a sense of calm rushes over him. Just shoot it. He takes a deep breath and the wedge of wood flies off the stump.

Dory pumps her fist in the air. “You did it!”

“That’s impressive,” FeeTwix claps the weaponsmith on the back, “seriously, Dory, that’s some damn good work!”

“That was it?” Ryuk glances down at the weapon; the Thulean script graven on its barrel suddenly glows a vibrant green. He can hardly recall shooting the weapon; only that the wedge was knocked off the stump in the blink of an eye, almost as if he had done it with his mind.

“Again.” Zaena uses her ghost limbs to move two wedges onto the stump.

“Wait,” Ryuk says, “using this weapon is considered a skill right? Why didn’t I get a new skill prompt?”

“It’s not a skill,” Dory explains, “not in the sense that the term ‘skill’ is used here in Tritania. Skills are something acquired through a character’s actions, interactions, preferences, and choices. Yes, you can learn to use a new weapon and have this be a skill, but like I said, this particular gun uses algomagic, which is an extension of your being.”

“Algomagic?” FeeTwix asks.

The stout blacksmith explains, “Magic that affects the very algorithm of the game, algo-magic. There are other names for it used in other Proxima worlds.”

Ryuk takes aim at the two wedges of wood. They fly into the air and just like before, the Thulean script on his weapon glows green. “It’s so fast. I don’t even see the marbles coming, or going.”

Dory crosses her arms over her chest and gives them all a satisfactory nod. “This is just a taste of what’s to come, campers. Give me a few more days, and I’ll craft something truly amazing for you.”

Chapter 17: Boaster Toaster

Hiccup awaits them outside, his hands clasped beneath his distended belly, and he runs his tongue over his lips. “Holy shickin’ fit, boys and girl – them were some demonly delicious dragon wings. Are you fickers sure we don’t have time for me to order a to-go dozen? I still want to try the pepper dingleberry ones!”

FeeTwix turns to him. “The what?”

“Dingakburi,” Zaena says, “and no, we don’t have time. How do we get to Bar Row from here? That’s where we’re starting, isn’t it?”

“Correctemundo, Liz.” Hiccup picks up a stick, cops a squat and starts sketching in the sand. Dory the Weaponsmith is long gone and the four guildmates now stand outside the restaurant by the side of the brick paved road to Aramis. The sky was clear earlier, but ominous dark clouds have started to form, reminiscent of the ones they saw in the Hills of Hillshire the previous night.

“We have maps,” Ryuk reminds him.

“Sometimes you’ve gotta go old school,” says the goblin. “So X marks where we are, and now we’re going to go to Bar Row to do a little prodding. Then we’ll split up. Remember – Marbles and Lizzy will snoop around in the Guild District and get us a hostel; Twixy and I will stay in Bar Row. I hope everyone here is ready to pound a few.” He looks around.

“I am,” FeeTwix says. Zaena shrugs and Ryuk gives him the thumbs up.

“Good. Oops – wait.”

The goblin holds up a finger, vigorously pokes his belly for a moment, and releases a three-octave belch. He tastefully checks to make sure that he didn’t get any on him, and then continues. “I got a bit of a strategy as to how we are going to get the info we need. It’ll cost us, though. And before you ask, Lizzy, yes, the place may look all upscale and squeaky clean on the outside, but trust me … ” He lifts his bulbous nose to the city in the distance. “There are some seriously sick, treacherous, vile, dastardly murderous ficks in Aramis, believe you me. You two need to be careful when snooping around the Guild District. That reminds me! Regarding our place of restitude tonight – look for a hostel known as the Mondegreen. It was built by some immiNPCs.”

“ImmiNPCs?” FeeTwix chuckles.

“What’s so funny about immigrant NPCs?” asks Hiccup. “And no, I don’t particularly like them here but there’s no way to build a wall to keep them out, so what can we do? We tried holding them back at the borders, but there ain’t no borders, technically, so that plan was a big waste of taxpayer rupees. At least Tritania doesn’t have refugee camps or nothing. Although I will say, refugee camps are great places to meet desperate people, which I particularly like because desperate people are gullible as fick. To be fair, one thing I do like about immiNPCs is that they bring neat stuff from other worlds – guns, candy, games, crazy liquors, smokables. Pretty cool sex toys too. Too much rambling?”

His guildmates nod.

“Anyfickin’hoo, I want you two to get us a room at the Mondegreen before you get to snooping. Got it? Secure our resting place first, then start sniffing around.”

“Why don’t we get the room before we go to Bar Row?”

“Good question, Liz.” Hiccup scratches his ass. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we paint big red targets on our foreheads and walk around in our underpants while announcing to everyone that we’re new in town?”

FeeTwix comes to her defense. “Last I recall, you don’t wear underwear.”

“Too much chafing, especially on a long journey like this. I prefer an extra-husky asbestos jockstrap if the occasion calls for it, but otherwise, go commando, Joe. Dammit! Your commentaries are throwing me off track. Focus, people, focus. Back to the plan: so the Lizard Queen and Marble Nuts – okay, those nicknames won’t work, I’ll keep at it though – book us a room at the Mondegreen and after that, they do a little sneak and peek while Twixy and the most follicularily-enhanced goblin this side of Jatla line our coffers. Of course, we can communicate with each other over the messaging system, so if you do run into trouble, holler at us.”

“Same to you,” Zaena says.

“Good. So that’s the plan. Don’t fick it up, people. Let’s go! It should take us about thirty minutes to get there.”

(0)__(0)

The four Mitherfickers pause at a fork in the road. The path on the right leads to the back entrance of the Guild District; the not-right fork loops around the district and conveniently takes the foot-weary traveler dead-bang to the heart of Bar Row.

“This way, Mitherfickers!” Hiccup valiantly holds his pointer finger in the air. FeeTwix laughs, and shares the goblin’s pose with his followers.

“I swear, Hiccup, you are becoming the most popular member in our guild! I may have you do an ad read soon.”

Hiccup’s eyes practically flash rupee signs. He lowers his finger, slows his pace, and starts speaking to FeeTwix in a low voice about compensation. Zaena stays at the back of the group, silently humming a Thulean tune that Ryuk can’t quite place.

As they take the left path, a medium-sized dragon soars overhead, carrying in its claws a large crate with the EBAYmazon logo seared into the wood. Many of the scales on the beast’s underside have been plucked out, a tell-tale sign that it’s a rescue dragon.

Ryuk watches it pass with his hand on his marble gun just in case.

Before leaving, Dory gave him a gunsyakhai land dragon leather gun belt and holster. There’s a fresh magazine of black marbles in his weapon, and as they continue to walk, Ryuk loads up another magazine full of clear marbles.

The magazines are fairly easy to load. Just pop the marbles in until you have eight. With five magazines, he’ll have to keep at least two with alternating knife marble and black marble combinations. He has also kept his magic slingshot, which hangs from its original holster over his left thigh, just in case a situation calls for it.

Once the magazine is loaded with marbles, it is relatively simple to load and unload it into the weapon. To load, simply stick it in the back and pop it in until it clicks. To unload, press the magazine release that’s located just above the base of the magazine and it pops itself out. He’ll get used to it, and in the future, he should be able to do it very quickly.

The future. Tomorrow he will know how his affairs stand. Tamana is what this journey has been about since the start. Ryuk realizes that there are bigger forces in motion, and soon he’ll have to confront these forces. The ultimate quest. For now the battle takes place in Tritania, but if things go badly it could spread to the real world.

Bar Row is much more impressive than Ryuk remembers it being. In the shadows of the Aramis Towers – the dozen or so dragonscrapers that make up the financial and trading district – Bar Row is a series of high-priced pubs, dirty dive bars, and narcotized nightclubs set along a horseshoe shaped road.

“Where to start, where to start?” Hiccup asks. “He’ll do!” The goblin strolls over to a drunken NPC scout passed out against an overfilled rubbish bin. “Hey, buddy.” He gives the drunk a soft kick. The drunk grumbles, falls to his side, wipes saliva from his lips. He pulls his knees to his chest, leaving one hand with exposed fingers on the dirt. “You don’t happen to have a glass of cold water in your list, do you?” Hiccup asks FeeTwix.

“Nope.”

“Well shit.”

“I can stand him up with my konoshlo,” Zaena offers.

“He’ll just fall down again. Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.” Hiccup drives the heel of his boot down onto the drunk’s fingers and Ryuk cringes at the snap and crackle.

FeeTwix’s eyes flash blue. “Crap, Hiccup! Warn me next time before you do something like that! I got viewers that are very anti-torture.”

“Well, the fickin’ delicate little pussy willows may want to retreat to their safe places for the next little while then, ‘cause that’s how the Mitherfickers  roll!” Hiccup turns to Ryuk. “You said we’re doing this my way, right?”

“Right.” Ryuk drops his hand to the grip of his marble gun. One glance around and he relaxes his grip – not a single digital soul seems to give two shits that a goblin is engaged in active felonious assault on a drunk, not even the Aramis Security Force officer less than twenty meters away.

The female officer wears black armor, an elaborate belt with pockets and cuffs of varying size attached, as well as knee-high combat boots with a single spike at the foot. A large crossbow is strapped to her back and a short sword sheathed at her side. The officer turns to them, sees what’s going on, and turns back to her post.

“Why’d you do it!?” the drunken scout cries out. “Those were my … my favorite fingers!”

“Wah wah wah, look buddy, now that I have your attention, I have a question I’d like to ask you.”

“Fuck you and your questions, you filthy goblin!”

“That’s Mr. Filthy Goblin and it’s an easy question.”

“Kiss my inebriated ass!”

Ryuk: This is getting out of hand.

FeeTwix: That’s one way to put it!

Hiccup catches Zaena flash him the ‘wrap it up’ signal as turn to the north. “Time to up the ante.” His small ax takes shape in his hand. “Tell me where the grubbiest, grimiest, good-for-nothing bacchanalian like yourself goes or I’m taking your arm. As you can see,” he taps the edge of his ax against his mechanical arm as he growls, “I could use a new one.”

It only takes a second for the drunk to cry out, “Fine! Fine! I’ll tell you what you need to know!”

(0)__(x)

“Let’s not make torture our guild’s option of first resort,” Zaena says as soon as the others catch up to her.

“I’m not proud of it, Liz,” says Hiccup with an innocuous look on his face, “but it did get us the info we need.”

“Which was?”

“The scummiest, crummiest, seediest, weediest, mankiest, skankiest watering hole isn’t Horace and Pete’s, as it was last year, but is in fact H ‘n’ P’s biggest rival, Barfly’s, which is another place opened by immiNPCs over a decade ago. So that’s where we are heading.”

A group of barbarians on Shire horses parade down the street.

The mean-looking bunch wear sleeveless chainmail robes and horned helms decorated with gold imbroglio and upside down crosses. The four Mitherfickers step to the sidewalk, allowing the group to pass. Their horses snort almost as much as the chiseled men riding them.

“Don’t let those poofters fool you,” Hiccup says, a bit too loudly. “They may have big horses and equally large muscles, but I’d wager even our weakest member – that’s you, Ryuk – could kick their asses.”

“Um, thanks?”

To their right is a roadside Horse Piss stand with a single bench next to it. A half-orc is passed out on the side of the bench closest to the sidewalk; a goblin shorter than Hiccup sits on the other side of the half-orc, greedily enjoying a large platter of dragon wings.

“Hey, that’s my cousin Spew Gorge, the one I was telling you guys about.” He waves at the goblin with a cleft lip. “Hey! Spewy, it’s me!”

The bewhiskered goblin produces a Hyperborean army knife, unfolds the blade and shields his food. “Don’t you dare fickin’ hey me you fick-faced fickwad! You can go fick yourself and the dragon you rode in on!”

“Ah, come on, Spewy. How’s your chalupa by the way?”

The shorter goblin jabs his knife into the air as he bares his yellow teeth. “Fick off, Hiccup!”

“What happened there?” Zaena asks after they have moved on.

Hiccup shrugs. “A long story that involves inbreeding, animal husbandry, and adultery. That’s why he’s so short. The inbred fick. Lost his chalupa too, to an ink shadow, and of course he blames me. Anyway, typical goblin drama. I’ll spare you the deets.”

A thin man wearing a burlap sack for a tunic pushes past them. Flung over his shoulder is a long stick with charred chiup piglets hung by their necks. “Baby-ups, twenty rupees, baby-ups, twenty-rupees!”

A burly berserker with a chubby elf drazel hooked to his arm stops the hogman and requests a piglet. Two street urchins descend upon the food seller just in time to steal the piglet and bolt across the street.

“The drunk said to take a left in the alley just before some place called … ” He scans ahead for a moment. “There! That’s it, Jeer’s Shot Bar.”

Even though it’s late afternoon and the sun is still in the sky, the alley is bathed in eternal twilight as the light is filtered through clotheslines, awnings, and swaths of black fabric slung between the two buildings that create the alley. The pathway is clear, but dried blood crusted between the cobblestones and the gouges and pockmarks in the walls indicate that this particular location is not always this quiet.

“Stay frosty.” FeeTwix’s double-bladed sword appears on his back.

“No weapons.” A doorman the size of a Shire horse steps out of the shadows. His chain mail tunic struggles to contain his over-muscled shoulders, and a pair of knickerbockers and leather shoes curled at the tips complete his stylish ensemble. His face is mangled driftwood, his scowl that of a Jack O’Lantern on the eighteenth of November.

Hands on hips, Hiccup glares up at the man-mountain. “Listen, Pantagruel, we’d be idiots to enter this place unarmed. This is Barfly’s right?”

Damn goblin! Ryuk unholsters his marble gun.

The doorman clears his throat and says in a deep, gritty voice, “I suggest youse guys put your weapons away, or I will put them away for youse, and youse may not approve of my choice of locations.” The big man’s nostrils flare. “The name’s Croc, and if I see or hear about the four of youse doing anything stupid in there … ” He laughs slowly. “Let’s just say youse guys won’t like what happens next.”

Croc Level 99

HP: 7530/7530

ATK: 3899

MATK: 245

DEF: 911

MDF; 1200

LUCK: 108

Level 99? Holy shit!

“We’ll behave,” Ryuk assures him, holstering his weapon. “We are, um, new in town and we heard this is the best place to get Horse Piss.”

Hiccup elbows him and hisses sotto voce, “Let me do the talking!”

“Who told you this was a good place for Horse Piss?” Croc cocks a grizzled eyebrow at him. “Only wankers and editors drink Horse Piss! We don’t allow that shit here.”

Ryuk glances to his guildmates. “Um …”

Croc laughs. “Just fucking wit yaz. We have Horse Piss a-plenty inside. Remember though, no weapons.” He nods to the doorframe and Ryuk suddenly notices a light green glow.

FeeTwix: We can just equip things inside.

Ryuk: Nope. The doorframe is lined with algomagic. I mean, we can try to equip something, but I think the magic will prevent it.

Croc places his hand on the door and it crumbles away, as if it were made of sand. “Nice, huh?” he asks as they step in.

“You got any more tricks up your sleeve?” Hiccup asks.

“Only the ones youse don’t wanna see.” Croc turns back to the alley. “Remember, I’ll be watching.”

The door reforms as soon as the four Mitherfickers are safely inside.

(x)__(x)

In contrast to the poor lighting in the alley, the inside of Barfly’s itself is relatively well-lit by chandeliers hanging above each of the six booths.

Between the booths and the bar is a collection of tables and chairs and at the bar proper, a line of ten stools that look to have been crafted by a damn good blacksmith. There’s a snooker table under a light in the far corner not far from private rooms screened off from the main area by a maroon curtain. A mural of a gritty cityscape reminiscent of 1940s New York is painted on the wall closest to the door.

Above the mirror behind the bar, in a heavy gilded cherubs-and-dragons frame draped in black crepe is a Vallejo-esque painting of a waitress in a black-and-white uniform; all sad sultry smile, Bettie Page bangs and Amy Winehouse eyes.

The dive bar is far from packed; two of the booths have revelers, six boozers sit at the bar, and group of five bards – all pointy beards and double chins with multi-hued overcoats and ruffled cream satin poet shirts – sit at a table in the center.

Behind the bar, an older man in a white shirt and black bowtie polishes a glass goblet with a yellowed rag. His hair is slicked back, his eyebrows in dire need of a good trimming.

“Take a seat, anywhere you’d like,” he calls out to them. He folds his bar rag in half and sticks it out of the back pocket of his pants. Above his head is a framed picture of handwritten lyrics to a song called The Ballad of Busty Gazongas.

“Follow my lead.” Hiccup marches straight up to the bar. He hops up onto a stool and makes a lassoing gesture with his hand. “A shot of drorikh for everyone.”

“You got it,” the bartender says.

FeeTwix: Drorikh?

Ryuk: Fermented dragon’s milk.

Zaena: I grew up drinking this stuff! I hope it is as good down here as it is in Ultima Thule.

“A shot for you too, pal,” Hiccup tells the bartender. “You got a name?”

“Cid. Howzabout you, big spender?”

“Me? Yeah – the name is, um, Hoquet.”

“That’s nice, Umhoquet. And your friends?” The old bartender pulls out a glass jug with a milky substance inside.

“This here is Marbles, Liz, and Swede.”

“Not Ummarbles, Umliz, and Umswede? Sounds to me like a bunch of fake names some asshole would make up,” Cid snorts as he pours out a shot. “But a name’s a name, and I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you pay your tab.”

“That’s us, just a bunch of noobs with fake-sounding but otherwise completely authentic and not-at-all skeevy names who always pay our tabs. Always. Marbles, make yourself useful and start passing out shots.”

Ryuk begrudgingly waits for Cid to pour out several shots of drorikh and place them on a tray. He takes them to a booth of barbarians in the far corner. “From the goblin at the bar,” he tells the suspicious lot.

He returns just in time for the next round to finish being poured. These he takes to the other booth, a booth of druids. FeeTwix takes shots to the bards at the center table and Cid finishes pouring shots for those seated at the bar.

Hiccup stands up on the seat of his bar stool again and raises his shot glass.

“To Empress Thun and the Sage of Gotha!

To Porthos, Aramis, and Athos by way of a flying ship!

To the bottom of the Endless Sea, the top of the clouds, to the frost of Ultima Thule,

To the griffins of Polynya, and the vast fields of Hyperborea!

Aye! Aye! Aye!”

Everyone in the bar raises their shot glass in one hand and beats on the table with other. “Aye! Aye! Aye!”

The drorikh is sour, like the Yakult probiotic drinks they sell at the 7-Elevens in Japan, and Ryuk cringes as it sears its way down his throat. His vision pane flashes to let him know that alcohol could impair his ability to fight, shoot, or run away.

As soon as the shots are finished, one of the Barbarians stands and throws his shot glass to the floor, smashing it into pieces. “Another round!” he announces to the cheers of his compadres.

Cid is two steps ahead. He already has ten shots poured and his working on the next five by the time Ryuk gets to the first tray. Zaena helps him this time, and the two dish out shots until everyone in the bar has one.

The gruff and thickly bearded Barbarian turns a stray chair towards him and places his heavily furred boot upon it. He clears his throat, and in a surprisingly cultured and well-modulated voice, recites:

“Twas the night ‘fore a battle and all through the camp,

The men were scared shitless, the quarters were cramped!”

Others begin to chuckle at the popular poem, including Hiccup and Zaena. The barbarian continues:

“Death road his horse through the black of the night,

He arrived in the morning and gave them a fright!

Had the men had their balls and not shit for brains,

We’d be toasting to them, rather than to death’s name!

Here’s to thee, Death, to thee, to thee!

For shitting on shitbirds like you and me!

For equally treating the rich and the poor,

For taking our lives and evening the scores!

Death comes to all who are bless-ed to breathe!

To him, and to her, and to you, and to me!

Aye! Aye! Aye!”

“Aye! Aye! Aye!”

Everyone takes a shot and one of the bards flicks his shot glass to the floor, shattering it to pieces. The stocky bard stands and sings the words, “Rounds for everyone!”

Ryuk wipes his mouth. He looks to FeeTwix, who has his arm around Zaena and a stupid grin on his face.

Hiccup tugs on his sleeve and Ryuk bends to him. “Before you ask,” he whispers, “It’s a drinking game called Boaster Toaster. Someone starts the toast, and whoever is around has to also make a toast until everyone has done so, that, or the one of the people drinking passes out, whichever comes first.”

“I see.”

“The only other way to lose is to not drink or pass out. If you don’t drink, you are forced to take all the shots for the next round, and by forced I mean someone will cram a bottle of drorikh up your ass and hold you upside down until it’s all gone. You see that guy over there?” Hiccup uses his nose to point to a bucculent mimbo with manboobs. He sits at the very last bar stool, swaying like the top of a palm in a light breeze. “Fatty’s our guy; he’s just about sauced enough to let his words spill easy.”

“You think he knows something?” Ryuk asks. FeeTwix steps around him, off to carry shots to the druids in the far booth.

Hiccup switches to instant message system.

Hiccup: Do you see the griffin logo on his back? That’s the emblem of the Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service.

Ryuk: How do you know all this?

Hiccup: Are you setting me up to say, I drink and I know things? Because if you are, I’m not saying it. Just because I’m short, of questionable character and indifferent hygiene, yet somehow one of the most important characters in this shared narrative of ours doesn’t mean you should compare me to Tyrion Lannister. And seriously, can’t the commoners in Tritania get some other fantasy references?

Ryuk: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Hiccup: Sure ya don’t, kiddo. Any fickin’hoo, that’s our mark. He’ll tell us where in the Guild District the Shinigami are staying. Mark my words.

The bard takes a small Ocarina flute from a string around his neck. He blows into producing a single, mid-range note, takes a deep breath, and begins:

“For I’m a jolly good fellow,

For he’s a jolly good fellow,

For we are jolly good fellows,

That no drunkard can deny!

That no drunkard can deny!

That no drunkard can deny!

We are jolly good fellows,

We are jolly good fellows,

We are jolly good fellows,

That no drunkard can deny!

Aye! Aye! Aye!”

“Aye, aye, aye!”

Ryuk gives Hiccup a queasy look. He’s gotten wasted in Tritania before and oddly enough, it gave him a splitting headache when he logged out.

“Tie your shoe, Marbles.”

“My what?”

“Shoes.”

“They don’t have laces. I’m wearing boots.”

“Bend forward, you idiot.” Hiccup hisses. Ryuk bends over and the goblin swiftly palms his shot, throws it back, and places the empty shot glass back in his hand. He claps Ryuk on the back. “Don’t say I never did nothing for you.”

A shot glass smashes on the floor, the shards of which bounce off Ryuk’s feet.

“Another round!” Zaena announces, a single finger held high.

Cid the bartender starts pouring out another round and as he does, the mark Hiccup pointed out earlier begins to wobble. He drops his head onto the bar, picks it up, rolls his neck back all in an attempt to keep from falling.

Hiccup claps his hands together. “Fick yeah, Ryuk, it looks like we’re just one shot away from scoring bigly.”

As FeeTwix hands more shots to the barbarians and druids in the back, Hiccup again climbs the bar stool and quickly speaks to Cid. The bartender nods, points to the private room in the back, and returns to pouring shots.

“Good to go,” the goblin tells Ryuk once he rejoins him. “Keep your toast short, Liz. We got places to go and people to interrogate.”

Zaena raises her shot glass and cries out in a throaty, melodic trill. Her throat turns red as she continues to warble. A quick glance around and Ryuk sees that several of the burlier men in the bar now openly shed tears. He looks to Hiccup to find him holding his hand over his heart. The Thulean continues for just a moment longer, stops, and bows.

“Takha bae bitakh novlaa rakh Aya Bortaetae;

Huborakha, Polonkhya, Hutamae Dulekh.”

The goblin says without looking away. “It’s an ode to the three floating continents of Tritania.”

Zaena raises her shot glass to her lips and before she throws it back she cries, “Aye! Aye! Aye!” in a high pitched voice.

“Aye! Aye! Aye!” Everyone tosses back their shot, including Ryuk who is so swept up in the strangely magical moment that he doesn’t see Hiccup’s patsy slide off his barstool and crack his noggin on the floor.

Everyone cheers at the sight of the fallen man and as quickly as it started, the drinking game known as Boaster Toaster is over.

Chapter 18: A tendril of white magic

Zaena and Ryuk exit Barfly’s, both a bit tipsy. The Mitherfickers have the info they need, mostly through Hiccup’s ingenious yet pricy strategy of interrogating the drunk by offering him an off-world bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

It’s the Hour of the Pig, and the moon is hardly visible tonight. A slight moisture in the air signals an overnight shower to come, the vibrant buzz a sign that nightlife has begun. The streets of Bar Row are crowded with revelers of all classes, their universal struggle with dipsomania playing out in a few of the more absonant tipplers, most of whom are NPCs.

“You sure they’ll be all right?” Zaena asks.

Ryuk pulls his black hood over his head and shields his eyes. “Hiccup said that the bards were just paid. In my country, payday is one of the more popular days for drinking; many lose enough money that they are forced to borrow from EZ-PWNED payday loan sharks to make it to the next payday.”

Zaena snickers. “It doesn’t sound too different from here in that regard.”

“It really isn’t. I told myself I’d trust Hiccup, so we’ll see if that’s a mistake or not. What we have to do is … a lot more challenging.”

He feels something land on his shoulder. He turns to see Zaena a few meters away.

Known as ‘konoshlo’ in Thulean, he slowly removes her ghost limb, feeling for the first time that the end of the limb is very similar to a bird’s talon. Why do they call them limbs when they clearly have talons?  It shrinks away before he can examine it any longer.

“How do they work anyway?” Ryuk has never been to clear on the Thulean’s ghost limbs aside from their origins.

“You really don’t know?” she stares at him suspiciously for a moment. “Come here, I’ll show you.”

As he approaches, she turns her back to him. They are still in the alley that leads to Barfly’s and he can see the Croc the doorman watching them from his stool next to the door.

“Are you sure?”

“Touch them.”

The chainmail armor on her back has two slits woven into it. Jutting out of the two slits are two small stumps that are completely invisible.

“Interesting,” he says as his hand cross moves across the relatively smooth surface. The stump on the left comes to life, forming three talons as it extends out of her back.

“And they can go three times the length of your body?”

Her short bob of orange hair bounces as she nods.

“What about their strength?”

They land onto Ryuk’s shoulder and lift him about a meter into the air.

“Whoa!” They quickly drop him back to the ground. “Very, um, interesting.”

“They can get in the way sometimes,” Zaena admits as she takes the lead, “but only if I let them.”

The two exit the alley and follow the horseshoe all the way to the end of the Bar Row. Avoiding drunks, thugs, muggers, stragglers, and thieves is the name of the game, and they do so by moving quickly, keeping their heads up and their weapons at the ready. Ryuk still hasn’t used his marble gun in battle, but he has a feeling this will come very soon.

He first had the idea back in the bar, when they were again rehashing tonight’s plan over another round of fermented dragon’s milk, this one courtesy of the house after Hiccup forked over a quarter of their net worth for the off-world bottle of Jack.

Rescue Tamana tonight, was his thought, and now, as they move towards the Guild District, Ryuk feels emboldened by the idea, no matter how dangerous it may be and regardless of the fact that the alcohol has lowered his inhibitions and boosted his courage.

We need to do this tonight.

It is the only way forward, and even though his plan is no more elaborate than ‘rescue Tamana,’ it feels like the right thing to do. He just needs to figure out how to propose it to Zaena.

“There’s the back entrance for the Guild District,” Zaena says, after they’ve made their way down the long and winding road that leads to the trees on the city’s perimeter. “Hiccup said that the Mondegreen Hostel is along the Bonsor River, east of the back entrance.”

With his hood over his head, Ryuk suddenly feels bigger and more intimidating than he has ever felt before. Even his dream armor goes around it, allowing for the hood to peek out of the top. Which reminds him – if FeeTwix and Hiccup can actually come out ahead tonight, he’ll need to get a helm, as much as he hates wearing them. Or he could just keep to the back, and let his guildmates man the frontlines.

Maybe I’ll just do that after all, a slingshot is supposed to be used with some range.

Zaena’s ghost limb brushes against his shoulder. “Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?”

“That’s a pretty accurate way to put it.” He stops in front of a guildhall with a door that opens to the street. A pair of bracket-mounted crystal balls glow with thaumaturgic energy, illuminating the guild’s nameplate. “The drorikh is clouding my thoughts.”

“Tell me anyway, what are you thinking about?”

“If I tell you, will you promise to actually consider it before telling me ‘no’?”

She chuckles. “Yeah, of course. Any time the quietest one in any group speaks, I tend to listen more carefully. It’s something my tutor always said to do. What’s up? What’s on your mind?” She settles her orange slit eyes on him.

Ryuk bites his lip for a moment and feels the confidence spread through him as he says, “You and I will rescue Tamana tonight, alone.”

(0)__(0)

Ryuk sits down onto his bed and takes out the three magazines he still needs to load with marbles. The four-story Mondegreen Hostel is run by an immiNPC named Jim. Their room is on the first floor, a secret room with an entrance through a bookcase in the lobby. The hostel was otherwise full, and Jim offered it to them at the low, low price of double.

He presses black marbles into the magazine, watching as Zaena equips a few blades and lays them out on her bed.

“We should tell them.” A belt studded with small sheaths forms around her waist and she loads it with throwing knives. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“If we tell them, FeeTwix and Hiccup will rush over here and join us. I’m not saying we don’t need them, but we will completely lose the element of surprise with those two around. Look – I’m a former ninja and you’re an assassin; who better to infiltrate a guildhall? Think about it.”

“I did, and like I told you, I’m in.” A wolfish smile lifts Zaena’s pointed ears.

Ryuk finishes loading black marbles into the magazine, returns it to his inventory list, and takes an empty magazine, which he also loads with black marbles. He returns it to his list and grabs the last magazines, which he alternates with black and knife marbles.

Dory the Weaponsmith suggested that rather than wear the magazines on his belt, it’s best to put them at the bottom of his inventory list so he doesn’t have to worry about scrolling to equip them when a magazine runs out. Most players can access their lists in the blink of an eye, so he’ll be able to replace the magazines ultra-fast.

“Let’s go.” Only once he is at the door does he turn back to Zaena. “I’m serious, and if you aren’t up to it, that’s fine by me too, but I have to rescue her tonight. I just feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

Zaena raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you doing this because you love her?”

He clears his throat. “That’s not how I’d describe it. Tamana and I have been friends for a very long time, but romantically, we’ve never been linked.” Ryuk quickly remembers how he failed to ask her out and cringes at himself. “We’ve never dated.”

“Why not?”

“Because of all this – this world,” he halfway lies. “We were always having such a damn good time here that it really never came up.”

“So you do love her then?” Zaena’s eyes soften.

“What do you want me to say to that?”

She stands and approaches him. Her ghost limbs grab him by the front of his armor and pull him the rest of the way to her. “I want you to say that you love her, then I’ll help you,” she says with a mischievous grin.

“Are you … drunk or something?”

“I had the same number of shots as you. So maybe.” She laughs, but she doesn’t release him. “Consider it part of leveling up: come to grips with who you really are and how you really feel. Come to think of it, I think I had more shots than you. I saw Hiccup taking your shots for you.”

Ryuk is suddenly embarrassed. His face flushes red as he says, “Fine, I do love her then. Happy?”

She releases him immediately. “Good, let’s get going.”

They exit through the bookcase into the hostel’s entry way. Jim, the owner, stands immediately and walks around to the other side of the counter. He places his hands behind his back and asks, “Is there anything the lady and my young lord will be needing this evening?”

“Thanks, but we’re fine.” Ryuk returns his hood to his head. “We’re going out; if our guildmates, a blond-haired commoner and a cranky goblin come, please show them to the room.”

“Very well,” Jim calls after them.

The door slams shut and the two step into the streets.

“We’re actually not very far from their guildhall. Hiccup said that it would be this way,” she turns left, “and that it’s surrounded by the largest stone wall in the district. Lucky for us, I have ghost limbs.”

The Guild District is relatively quiet aside from the occasional conversation carried by the wind. Smoke from the chimney of a nearby blacksmith guild tickles his nostrils. It is by no means a cold night – it is rarely cold on the floating continent of Hyberborea, other than in the Klin Mountains – but he feels a chill anyway, possibly an effect of the alcohol leaving his system.

“That must be it,” Zaena whispers as they turn down a lane that leads away from the Bonsor River. A guildhall sheltered by walls that are at least three meters high is situated at the end of the cobblestone road. The rented guildhall is a bad choice if one wishes to maintain a low profile. It’s big, suspiciously imposing, and the alley that separates it from other guilds makes it easier to approach unnoticed.

Just to be sure, Ryuk checks the building stats and finds out that it is indeed the home of the Shinigami’s alias – the Ripazu – just like the fat guy told Hiccup.

“To the left,” Zaena says, “follow my lead.”

“Got it.”

Ryuk brings his marble gun up holds it ready. He’s not sure of how this is going to play out, and try as he might, his Extreme Focus skill just isn’t coming online. They reach the alley separating the guildhall and keep as far from the scattered lanterns lighting the lane as they can.

Using her ghost limbs, Zaena lifts herself to the top of the wall and crouches in the shadow of a spike-shaped merlon.

Zaena: Face the wall. I’ll grab you, but you’ll still have to help climb.

Ryuk: Got it.

She catches him under the arms like a nanny lifting a toddler, and he rappels up the wall. He crouches next to another spike and covers the courtyard below.

Zaena: It’s awfully quiet.

Ryuk: There.

He senses the two NPC sentries before they actually step into an arc of light behind the main gate. His hand goes to his marble gun, but he decides on his slingshot instead. He palms two knife marbles, loads one in the pouch and holds the other one tight with his pinkie and ring finger.

Zaena: Are you sure?

Ryuk breathes in, lets half out and waits for the first guard to turn to the entrance. He lets loose and the knife marble strikes the guard square in the throat.

Tonsil shot! Instakill!

The other guard goes down with Ryuk’s second shot.

Tonsil shot! Instakill!

Skill level up! +3 LUCK!

Skill: Tonsil Shot

Level Two: 1 in 11 chance of connecting.

Damage: 24% if enemy is less than level 30; 12% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 10%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 7

EXP comes but he swipes it away. Zaena gives him the thumbs up. “Amazing shots.” With that, she slowly lets herself down into the courtyard. Ryuk waits for her to settle and keeps his eye on the front door of the Shinigami’s rented guild quarters.

Zaena: Do you feel my ghost limb? Use it to slide down.

As before, he feels a small jolt of electricity as he touches it with his bare hands. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he crouches and closes his eyes. He concentrates on his breathing for a moment, and as he does, the inside of his eyelids begin to populate with the world in front of him.

His Extreme Focus and Magic Eye skills working in tandem, Ryuk keeps his eyes closed for a moment, taking in as much detail as he possibly can. A faint green energy appears at the center of the guild. He opens his eyes and it disappears, closes them and it appears again.

Skill level up!

Skill: Magic Eye

Level Four: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. A yellow outline signals that an object is enchanted. A dark blue outline signals that necrotic magic is being used. A green outline signals that algomagic is being used.

Requirements: Level 8 Mage, LUCK > 6.

Ryuk: Algomagic inside.

Zaena: Got it. How many enemies?

Ryuk: Hard to tell. I sense several; then again, I’m only getting a slight read.

Zaena: Is Tamana in there?

Ryuk tries again to feel his way into the guild. His level is too low; he knows from his former avatar that Extreme Focus at a higher level could actually see into objects, around objects, through objects, and can note and interpret tiny changes in the environment.

I’m not that strong, he tells himself, I need to get closer.

With his eyes open now, he keeps to the shadows along the inner wall of the guild. His vision pane registers all sorts of minor details but his main focus is minute disturbances and impressions in the soil and the direction they lead. As he concentrates, a long scuff mark takes shape, almost like …

Someone was dragged.

He focuses completely on the trail to the exclusion of all else; nothing is as important as finding Tamana – he will follow the drag mark until …

… until it simply vanishes. The faint traces of footprints are still there, but no drag mark.

Zaena has all four swords out and is trying to cover his ass in all directions at once as Ryuk pauses to consider. He slows and controls his breathing, closes his eyes and expands his consciousness outward to search for any other sign of Tamana.

Nothing. Nothing. Still nothing … there! Like the last curling wisp from an extinguished cigarette, a tendril of white magic has made its way through the merest crack beneath a cellar door just two meters to the left of the guildhall entrance.

“It’s her,” Ryuk whispers, trying his best to contain his excitement, “Tamana is in that cellar.”

(0)__(x)

Zaena runs her hand along the lock holding the door down tight. Fashioned into the head of a griffin, it’s about the size of a cantaloupe.

Ryuk points his weapon at it. “Should I?” he asks.

“They’ll know we’re here,” she whispers, “are you sure?”

“I know she’s in there,” he says, excitement coursing through his veins.

“What if she’s not … ”

“She is, I know it,” he gulps. “I feel it.”

Zaena nods. “Do it, then. You shoot, I’ll grab the loot, and then we scoot. No fighting if we can avoid it.”

“Got it, and agreed. No fighting if we can help it.”

“Once I bring her out, we’ll climb there.” She points to the shadowed portion of the wall nearest to them. “I’ll go up first, then Tamana, then you.” Ryuk’s face tingles as she holds it for a moment. “Are you sure you can do this – that we can do this?”

“I’m sure,” he tells her.

“Good. Then blow the lock.”

The Thulean steps aside and Ryuk lets one go. The griffin lock and a good-sized chunk of door explodes into flinders; Zaena smashes through what’s left and sprints in.

Ryuk’s mouth is suddenly dry and his pulse pounds in his throat. He puts his back to the wall and shoots two marbles left and two to the right for some distraction and misdirection.

He steps out from the wall, turns, and angles his last three up onto the roof. He swaps out magazines as the marbles detonate one after the other; the cries of anger and alarm from inside are sweet music to his ears.

The Shinigami can cast algospells, he thinks, and a faint greenness prickles at the edge of his awareness.

There’s been lots of yelling and hollering, but so far no return fire, so he steps out again and puts an explosive black marble through every window he can see.

Fuck you! He arcs the last marble in the magazine onto the rooftop.

He’s inserting fresh magazine when Zaena bursts out of the cellar with Tamana slung over her shoulder, a manic look in the Thulean’s eyes.

“This her?” Zaena turns to show him her prize. “Is it!?”

His heart skips a beat when he sees Tamana’s bruised face and white hair matted with blood. Her stats appear and hardly notices them.

Tamana Nakamura Level 2 White Warrior

HP: 2/138

MANA: 0/79

ATK: 52

DEF: 19

MATK: 12

MDF: 38

LUCK: 3

“Tamana! Tamana!”

“No time! Take her, let’s GO!” Zaena drops handcuffed Tamana into his arms and leaps for the wall. She scales it, spots a sword-wielding Shinigami running for Ryuk’s position and perforates him with a swarm of flying steel.

From the guildhall, an incandescent ripple of magic sears through the grass and narrowly misses Ryuk. It blasts a meter-wide trail of destruction across the courtyard and out through the back wall of the complex.

“Hurry!” Zaena shouts. Ryuk jumps over the newly vitrified soil and hands Tamana up to the anxiously awaiting Thulean. He pops his magazine out and inserts the one with clear marbles. He aims at where the giant magic day-spoiler originated and zings one away.

“Freeze enemy!”

His simple request fails, but not necessarily to his disadvantage. A large ridge tears out of the ground and rips through the foundation of the Shinigami’s guild quarters, smashing into the wall, danger close.

Come on, come on…

Another blast of magical return fire gouges a smoking crater in the space Ryuk just vacated; a black-clad swordsman sprints around a corner and charges in, his katana raised for a killing blow. Ryuk pops him center of mass with a clear marble; a mutant sticker vine bursts out of his chest and wraps him like a mummy.

His scalp prickles as Zaena heaves him into the air. “Freeze enemy!” He fires another clear marble and his health drops by half. Backfired! “Kuso!”

An orb lifts out of the front of the courtyard with an old man in its center.

Dark Mage Level 35

HP: 590/590

MANA: 325/325

ATK: 19

MATK: 137

DEF: 166

MDF: 283

LUCK: 22

The bearded mage’s eyes are ablaze with hateful fire as a vortex of yellow energy spins from his shoulders down to his fingertips.

It’s him! The robed figure from the Natty Dread game! Ryuk fumbles the next words as the marble sails through the air. “Freeze ENEMY!”

Freeze ENEMY!

The clear marble connects and time stands still. Oddly enough, his party members are still able to move.

“We have to hurry!” he tells Zaena, “I don’t know how long we have!” He gulps.

Seeing Tamana lie there bound and bloodied gives him a sinking feeling in his chest. Still, they have her; she can be healed and most important is that she’ll never die in Tritania. The only real difference between an NPC and an RPC is the origin of their source code – NPCs are written; RPCs are grown.

“Ryuk!” Zaena slaps his cheek. “Cause some more distractions!” Tamana’s body lifts into the air and Zaena lowers her to the alley on other side of the wall. Refocused, Ryuk pops the magazine of clear marbles out, returns it to inventory, and inserts the last magazine of black marbles into his weapon.

The Natty Dread mage hangs suspended in his energy bubble – a giant, can’t miss target, and Ryuk lets two go right at him. The Mage’s force bubble neutralizes them completely. No explosions, no nothing.

“I’m going down now!” Zaena shouts.

“Hurry,” he tells her, “my marbles don’t seem to work on the mage and I have no idea how much time we have! Hurry!”

Ryuk switches to his magic slingshot. He loads a knife marble in, keenly aware of the fact that the mage is starting to reanimate within his sphere of energy as time undialates. As he pulls the pouch back and the marble forms its sharp blade. He stretches the bands as far as they’ll go and the slingshot warms. His muscles quiver and he strains to hold in place.

Come on, you fuckers.

“Let’s go!”

Ryuk relaxes the tension on the slingshot, crouches, and finds her ghost limb on the edge of the wall. As the mage comes back to life, he latches on, and rappels to the ground.

“You take her left, I’ll take her right,” he tells Zaena. “I don’t think either of us has the stamina to carry … ”

Zaena lifts Tamana onto her shoulder. “I’ll carry her,” she grunts, “you cover behind us.”

“Damn! Got it!” With Tamana slung in a fireman’s carry, the Thulean sprints away as if she was unencumbered. Ryuk struggles to keep up and at the same time watch their back for pursuers. They run through an alley towards the lane that leads away from the Shinigami’s place.

That’s odd. Ryuk stops for a moment and surveys their back trail. Why aren’t they coming after us?

“Shit, Ryuk, Keep moving, let’s go!” Zaena calls over her shoulder to him.

“Right!”

It doesn’t take long for them to arrive at the Mondegreen Hostel and the door swings open for them. Zaena drops Tamana onto one of the lobby sofas and places her hands on her knees as she catches her breath.

“Someone may be following us!” Ryuk blurts out to Jim the doorman. “Please, um, please help us!”

“No doubt.” From behind the reception desk, the hostelier produces an M-4 Carbine with the underslung M-203 grenade launcher. He pops in a Beta C-Mag and loads a beehive round in the grenade launcher as he hums The Major General’s Song. He chambers a round, powers up the optics, and lifts the sling over his head. Only then does he catch the strange look that panting Zaena is giving him.

“I’m an immiNPC,” he reminds them as he steps around the clerk’s desk. “You may wish to check my stats.”

Jim Dohrmahn Level 99

HP: 6753/6753

MANA: 2885/2885

ATK: 2058

MATK: 566

DEF: 1118

MDF: 1259

LUCK: 85

“Holy shit! How’d you manage that?” Ryuk asks.

“Long story for another time.” He nods to the bookcase that doubles as a secret door. “Get inside, and let me know if you need anything. If anything untoward occurs, I’ll call for backup.” A smile creeps across his long face. “And trust me, whoever is coming after you does not want me to call for backup.”

Ryuk lifts Tamana. “Do you do this for all your guests?” he asks as he heads to the bookcase.

“It’s one of the many services we here at the Mondegreen are happy to offer.” Jim keeps his post and gives him a soft nod. “Plus you paid double for your room; it’s the least I can do.”

(x)__(x)

Ryuk places Tamana on his bed, turns her to her side, and notices that there is a faint yellow magic radiating from the cuffs keeping her thin wrists together.

An enchanted object …

“We need Hiccup,” he says, “and fast. I don’t know exactly what these cuffs do, but I’m pretty sure they are preventing her from equipping her sword. They may be tracking her too. It’s okay, Tamana.” He uses the corner of the bed sheet to wipe her face. Her left eye is puffy and closed; dry blood is rimmed around her nostrils. Seeing her like this ignites a deep hatred inside Ryuk for the Shinigami. He momentarily gets the stupid notion to go back to their guildhall for some good old fashioned payback.

“I’ll message him.”

Zaena: Goblin, we need you. We rescued Tamana and she is here now, almost dead, with her wrists bound by magical cuffs.

Hiccup: First, the name is Hiccup. Second, WHAT THE FICK DID YOU JUST SAY? Read it again. Okay, I’m better now.

FeeTwix: I can’t believe you rescued her without us! My audience would have loved to see that happen!

Hiccup: Ignore him. We’ll be there in thirty minutes or so. We’re up twenty K in a game of Punch Chest. You wanted us to win bigly, right? Or is it big league? You want us to win, right?

Zaena: We need you here now. We don’t know what kind of cuff this is or if it has tracking properties.

Hiccup: Are there any inscriptions on it?

Ryuk rolls Tamana to her other side, so her cuffed wrists are now facing toward him. The handcuffs are bronze, the chain connecting them made out of a silvery metal. “Nothing,” Ryuk says. “Not even some Thulean.”

Zaena: Get here now, as in RIGHT NOW. Spawn here and leave FeeTwix there to finish the game of punch chest. I hesitate to say this, but we need your expertise!

Hiccup appears in a flash. “You guys really know how to ruin someone’s night, don’t you? And just for the record, one does not simply stop in the middle of a game a punch chest. You’re lucky as fick we were up by five. They’ll dock Twixy at least one point for my exit.” He nudges Zaena aside and plops his mechanical hand on Ryuk’s shoulder. “Step aside, Marbles, let Uncle Goblin take a looksee.”

Ryuk stands and crosses his arms over his chest, watching over Hiccup’s shoulder as the goblin checks the cuff. Finally, he scratches his ass and says, “Good news and bad news. The good news is that these cuffs don’t have tracking properties, as of yet. The bad news is that if they are away from their registered location for more than an hour or so, the tracking properties turn on. Luckily, the Mitherfickers have a thief, a particularly handsome, pink haired hunka-hunka burnin’ goblin – and I’m damn good at picking locks. In case you were wondering, as long as they’re on, she won’t be able to equip anything. She also isn’t able to message anyone.”

A small case appears on the bed and he opens it. “Also, you two are idiots for going at this alone. Fickin’ idiots.”

“It was … um, spur of the moment.” Ryuk bows his head in semi-contrition.

“Spur of the moment, huh?” he says as he takes out his tools. “Hitting the orc-house is spur of the moment, losing your chalupa in a game of Bet Your Penis is spur of the moment, this shit is unbelievably stupid. You should have at least brought a couple of healing potions.” He shakes his head. “I always thought of the Mitherfickers as a professional group of tweens with one seasoned statesman, at least that’s how I described our group to my cousin in Sotla, before Liz joined us. I definitely didn’t sign up for some in loco parentis role. Fick, where was I?”

“Never mind all that, Hiccup – just get her loose! And how many fucking cousins do you have?”

“Tsk-tsk. Language, Marbles, and don’t get your lacey pink panties in a wad. Regarding cousins? Who keeps track, really?” he says as he goes to work. “Last I checked, I had fifty. Maybe more. About a hundred nephews. Most are a bunch of fickwads. Marbles, ask the door guy to get us some Hopkins’ Holistic Healing Nostrums. Those potions cost a fick-ton, but it’ll heal her up and then some. Save the ‘then some’ for me.”

Zaena asks, “So Hopkins’ potions are better than the normal stuff?”

“Less filling, tastes great, and helps put the lead in your pencil!” Hiccup selects a lock pick and a tensioner, double checks they’re the ones he needs, and turns back to the cuffs. “Now get the stuff and stop distracting me!”

A knock at the door startles them all. Her short swords drawn, Zaena motions for Ryuk to open it. He does so and is greeted by Jim, who has a tray of various healing potions. “I thought you might find these of some small use. This is what we keep in stock.”

“Hopkins’ Holistic Healing Nostrum.”

Jim hands Ryuk a green bottle shaped like a grenade. “I will add it to your bill, if that’s all right with you.” With that, he smiles and turns away, the M-4 Carbine still slung across his back.

“Okay!” Ryuk rushes over to Hiccup with the healing potion. A straw appears on the bed and Hiccup says, “You know what to do.”

Zaena sits Tamana up, who immediately drops her head down. She angles her so Hiccup can still work on the cuffs yet Tamana is able to sit. Ryuk uncorks the healing potion, which fizzles, and retrieves the straw. He’s just about to put the straw in Tamana’s mouth when he hears Hiccup harrumph.

“Quality assurance purposes.” The goblin puckers his lips.

“Seriously? Let her drink it first!”

“Fine, fine, Marbles,” he grumbles, “have it your way.”

Ryuk places the straw between her parched lips. “Drink, Tamana.” Her throat twitches as her lips go to work. The blood on her face begins to pixilate as the bruises disappear and a halo of light settles around her head.

“Ryuk?” Tears form at the corner of her eyes. “It’s you.”

Chapter 19: Digital memories

“There, got it!” Hiccup pops the cuffs off and stands. “These fickers will get us in a lot of trouble if we don’t get them the hell out of here.”

“What do you want us to do?” Ryuk asks, completely panic-stricken.

“Zaena, tell the hostelier whatever the fick his name was to arrange an EBAYmazon express dragon to pick this up and take it, oh where’s a good place to send it? … I know! Send it to the Cape of Chukchis, to this dragon I know that goes by the name of Mirror – that’ll give those dirty chuckleficks a run for their rupees! I’d better write her a letter.”

The Mitherfickers’ designated lockpick scuttles to the writing desk packed into the corner of the room. He selects a sheet of Hostel Mondegreen writing parchment and produces a fluorescent green anti-zombie tactical survival pen. Using the seat as his writing surface, Hiccup scribbles a quick message in the vertical Thulean script.

Once he has finished, Zaena ghost limbs the scroll into the air and gives it a quick read. She stifles a laugh. “You want her to swallow it?”

“You know, Liz, that message was supposed to be private. And yes, I want her to swallow it, just to really give the Shinigami their money’s worth if they try to track Marbles’ main squeeze over there.”

“My what?” Ryuk grunts.

“And why did you call the dragon sweetheart?” Zaena asks.

“That’s none of your goddamn business!”

“I remember you,” Tamana says softly. “You’re the goblin from our guild. Hiccup? Or was it Burp?”

“Fick me to tears.” Hiccup throws his hands up in the air. “Looks like I just became a babysitter of four instead of three,” he mumbles as he returns to the bed and grabs the handcuffs and the healing potion. “If I had a rupee for every time someone called me a bodily function … ”

She gives him a confused look.

“For your information, Tammy, Hiccup is a shortened version of the ancient Thulean word, hiccupanaratapana, which means, ‘a sword which has had one side of its hilt broken off yet has maintained its balance and is actually a better weapon because of it.’ Another interpretation could be: ‘a sudden change that seems like it will greatly affect you but doesn’t turn out as bad as it seems.’ Kind of like our little shitshow here, and if I might add, my addition to the group.” He clears his throat and straightens an invisible tie. “All right, I need to get back to Twixy to make sure he doesn’t lose all our fickin’ money. We were up, bigly, and I’d like to see it stay that way. Have the cuffs and the message delivered and Ryuk … ”

“Yes?”

“Prepare my bed. I’ll need more pillows than that and I want the bed furthest away from the Thulean, just in case she tries something funny.”

“If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead,” Zaena reminds him.

“Good to know. See you kiddos in a bit.” With a middle finger salute, Hiccup dematerializes, the healing potion gripped tightly in his free hand.

(0)__(0)

With the goblin gone, Ryuk returns his attention to Tamana. His words run together as he explains who Zaena is and their guild’s efforts to find Tamana. He hardly gives her a moment to respond with anything aside from a nod. He’s never this garrulous, but seeing her has filled his heart with hope. The pain of watching his best friend die still scrabbles at his consciousness, but it’s easier to ignore now that she’s here.

Zaena reenters the room. “The package will be picked up in five minutes or less. I’ll, um … ” She glances from Ryuk, who is on the floor sitting on his knees, to Tamana. “I’ll join the others and give you two some privacy.”

“It’s okay … ” Tamana starts to say, but Zaena is gone before she can finish her reply.

“Sorry, I’ve been rambling too,” Ryuk tells her. “I want to know exactly what happened.”

Something flashes across Tamana’s eyes. Her brow furrows and she bites her lip, reliving the memory in an instant. “I logged out, you know, right after we beat those trolls. I was in my dorm room and the walls started to come apart. A gyunsakhai, remember those things?”

“How can I forget land dragons?” They’d fought several in Ultima Thule. Wingless and always bad-tempered, the creatures were an amalgamation of dragon, giraffe, and hippo.

“One tore through the wall of my dorm room. I started running and made it outside, but then it burst out the window and crash-landed on the streets below. I saw it eat someone! I was trying to message you, I think I messaged you.”

“You did.”

“It chased me and I thought I could kill it with the subway train. Stupid, I know, but I just had this feeling that I could make it to other side before it did and kill it.”

“But how did you know the train would come at that time?”

“I take that train twice a week; I’ve memorized the schedule. So I tried, I leapt and … ” She tries to recall how it played out. “I didn’t feel a thing. I just woke up on the chaise in our guild, like I was having an in-game dream or something. As soon as I did, someone pulled a black bag over my head and struck me with a blunt instrument, which knocked me down to two or three HP. I was cuffed, and lifted over someone’s shoulder. As all this was happening, prompts from the Proxima Company came to me, letting me know that I successfully had become an RPC. Reborn Player Character … ” Tears return to her eyes. “I still can’t believe it, I still feel like I can just lift my finger and log out! Imagine what it’s like to not be able to log out!”

“I can only imagine.”

“As I was being dragged away, a video of the final minutes of my life auto-played and I saw, through other people’s live iNet feeds as well as the subway surveillance feeds that I jumped in front of the train. Then my own iNet feed played, showing me push through the crowd, jump, and ...” she rubs her hand over her eyes, “getting struck by the train. It was horrible!”

After a moment of silence Ryuk says, “I should probably tell you about the research Hajime has done regarding real world attacks that stem from the Proxima Galaxy. All have come from Tritania, specifically from resetters.”

“All are coming from Tritania?”

“That’s right, and you aren’t the only one who was attacked. I too had one of these experiences. I was in my bedroom when a Thulean warrior appeared and attacked me. If it hadn’t been for Hajime, I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Has anything happened since?”

“No, it hasn’t. But NPCs are trying to come to our world, and something about being a resetter is triggering it. We need to speak to Sophia, or anyone in the upper echelons of the Knights of Non Compos Mentis about this. They’ll know what to do.”

Tamana nods in agreement. “We’ll have to get to Polynya first, and I’m thirteen levels away.”

“There’s no way to get a message to her?” He shakes his head incredulously. “Surely there’s a way for us to do that.”

“We need to do this in person. It is too sensitive to try to send via carrier, or through another player. No, we need to get there.”

As she fixes her white hair, pulling it back over her elven ears, a question floats to the front of Ryuk’s mind. “While you were imprisoned, did you see or hear anything that could help us fight the Shinigami? I know you said your head was covered, but did you maybe hear something?”

Tamana considers this for a moment. “The guild is a mixture of RPCs and a few mid-level NPCs. I heard one of them speaking about that. They didn’t really say much though, and I was in and out because of my low HP. One of them did mention something about the basement of the guild, and a powerful source of energy there. Whatever that is, it may be fueling the Shinigami.”

“Then we should destroy it,” Ryuk says firmly. “We should do what they least expect us to do. They expect us to run, and if we run, they will chase us like dogs. But what if we level up and then bring the party to them? There’s five of us now and you’re a healer and a warrior.”

Tamana’s eyes soften.  “Something has changed about you.”

He feels embolden by the way she now looks at him. “We have Hiccup, a Shield Thief; FeeTwix, a Berserker Mystic; and Zaena, an Assassin Brawler. Now we have you, a White Warrior – it’s a well-rounded guild if you think about it. About the only thing we don’t have is someone exclusively casting magic, but my skills make up for that, at least a little. Let’s turn the tables on them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go after the Shinigami and do so on our own accord. It is the only way to emphasize the difference between our guilds. We play to our strengths, and our strength should be the patented sneak attack due to our low levels. They won’t be expecting us; they’ll be out looking for us.”

Tamana nods. “If that’s what you think we should do, I’m in. If we can figure out what is going on and why resetters are being attacked by NPCs in the real world, it’ll help everyone, both here and in the world out there. I don’t think it is a stretch at all to say the Shinigami are behind it.”

“Let’s go then, now.” He stands, ready for anything.

“Now?” Tamana laughs. “Tomorrow, Ryuk, I need to rest. That’s another thing about being an RPC – suddenly, I have to rest in-game and I need to eat whereas before, those things didn’t really matter as much. Speaking of which, I’m starving. The only thing they fed me was some terrible-tasting broth.”

“I’ll tell the others to bring us something and the concierge must have some snacks for sale. That settles it. Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow we’ll level and armor up, and tomorrow night, we’ll bring the fight to the Shinigami.”

Ryuk turns to the door.

“Last question: did you ever come up with a name for our guild?”

He hesitates for a moment.

“What?”

“The Mitherfickers,” he says, and surprisingly, it doesn’t pain him much to do so. “Our guild’s name is the Mitherfickers.”

Chapter 20: A puppetless puppetmaster

Kodai silently follows Gorira through the door to the back office of the Hinomaru soapland in Yokohama. The day has not progressed well, and the trip to Tachikawa to personally survey the damage done by the American airmen has added nothing to it.

A pigtailed eighteen-year-old sitting on an extra sukebe isu – a pervert stool – leaps to her feet as he enters, and bows deeply.

“I do not pay you to sit on your shiri!” Kodai kicks the stool and it flips down the hallway and smacks into a shelf stacked with cans of nuru gel.

“Hai!” The young woman scrambles to retrieve a rag and begins scrubbing the nearest surface she can find.

A soapland is a uniquely Japanese combination of bathhouse and brothel, and the back office is a perfect example of what goes on behind the scenes. From industrial-sized boxes of condoms to mundane supplies such as toilet tissue and disinfectant – everything needed to run the business is kept on hand. A fresh load of laundry starts up in the adjacent room.

This is yet another one of Kodai’s additions.

The previous manager outsourced all of the laundering, which was incredibly stupid. Why fork over yen for a third party to do laundry when Hinomaru has no less than four girls on the clock at all times?

A chime sounds and a red light on the wall flashes, interrupting Kodai’s brooding. The holoscreens on the manager’s desk flash and display the feed from the front room.

Kodai takes a seat and watches as the new manager he’s hired as of today greets a gaijin customer, politely instructing the thick-necked gaijin to remove his shoes. Kodai hears a door shut as the woman he has just chastised steps into the bathroom to freshen up before greeting the patron.

“Rooms.” Three of the screens in front of Kodai change, showing a bird’s eye view of the rooms that are currently in use.

In the first two rooms, a man lies nude on a massage table as a woman slathered in nuru gel slides herself up and down his body. The soapland experience in the third room has just begun; the man perches on the pervert stool as a bored-looking young woman attends to his personal hygiene with soft hands and a removable showerhead.

The young woman unsuccessfully stifles a yawn.

Hiring college dropouts and pretty girls from the countryside still makes good economic sense, but the high turnover and low morale always manages to bite him in the ass. One day when it does become more economical, he’ll hire humandroids for the job…

“Hey,” he calls over to Gorira. The big man quickly approaches him and peers over his shoulder. Kodai taps on the screen. “See yawning beauty here? Have the new manager handle this, now.”

Gorira fires off a message to Okami, the new manager, who then fires off a message to the woman. Kodai watches in the live feed as she suddenly feigns excitement and enjoyment.

“Better.” He stands from the desk.

As Kodai moves towards the door to the basement, he eyes a handwritten, heart-shaped, pink posterboard sign that reads: Did you check for stains? Are they all gone? Make sure the towels are clean! A kawaii drawing of a happy young girl with her thumbs up is tacked to the bottom of the reminder.

He waits for Gorira to open the door, and he descends into the basement. A single LED bulb at the base of the stairs provides the only light; the muffled sobs of Meosa, the soon-to-be former manager of Hinomaru, the only sound.

Kodai enters the room and nods at one of his triggermen. After he inserts a pair of foam earplugs and dons a pair of latex gloves, the man hands him a suppressed, small-caliber handgun. Gorira takes his place on the opposite side of the door and puts his fingers in his ears; the triggerman does likewise.

Kodai steps onto a blue tarp, in the center of which former manager Meosa is naked and duct-taped to a pervert stool. Tear tracks moisten his cheeks; his fear-filled eyes are wide above the red rubber ball gag that’s encrusted with his snot.

As Kodai raises the weapon, an acrid yellow puddle forms around the base of the stool and he grimaces in disgust. Gorira and the triggerman avert their eyes, embarrassed to witness Meosa’s cowardice and loss of face – when all that is left is for one to die, one should at least die well.

Even with the suppressor, the report in the enclosed room is surprisingly loud.

The subsonic .22 caliber hollow point bullet enters Meosa’s skull but does not exit; instead, it ricochets through his brain tissue and gives him a more merciful death than he deserves. Other than the shameful loss of bladder control and a small trickle of blood around the entrance wound, there is almost no mess, of which Kodai approves.

He considers the now empty meat sack for a moment. After clearing his throat, he hands the weapon to the triggerman and motions for Gorira to follow him up.

(0)__(0)

Kodai is ushered into the back of his hostess bar in Shinjuku.

He goes through the kitchen, where a cook batter dips chicken for frying and into the main room, lit by dim red lights and tea candles floating in red liquid. He stops at the bar, and moves into the shadows and exhaled vapor of the pollute area.

First introduced to Japan about twenty years ago, pollutes quickly replaced cigarettes as a favorite Japanese inhalant. The fact that they are designer intoxicants in a land defined by its conspicuous consumption only made them more popular. The ones offered in Kodai’s bars and clubs are of the strictly legal variety – of which there are many – but the real money is in the illicit trade of banned pollutes.

A Nikka whiskey is placed in front of him and he takes a sip from it, savoring its smoothness. With his glass in hand, Kodai turns to the front of the hostess bar. He spots Sarah immediately – hard not to – and watches as she playfully pours a glass of champagne for a salaryman still in his work clothes.

As Kodai takes another sip from his whiskey, a twinge of jealousy makes him tense his hands. He sets his whiskey down on a coaster and motions the bartender over. “Pollute mask.” The bartender bows. It takes almost no time to produce a pollution mask shaped like an anime skull with green polypropylene lenses for eyes and the BAPE brand label in about the same place where forty minutes earlier, Kodai served Meosa with his separation package.

The bartender feeds the pollute tube to an adjustable hook that keeps it free from the bar top. Kodai places the mask over his head and a cute bunny appears on the insides of the mask’s lenses. The bunny bows repeatedly as it explains to Kodai how to use the mask and asks if he’d like to sync the mask with his iNet feed.

He declines.

Kodai doesn’t sync his feed with anything if he can help it, as doing so is a surefire way to have one’s data tapped.

A meter appears on the right hand side of his pane of vision. The bunny starts to ask a question regarding the type of experience he’d like, but Kodai silences him by saying aloud, “I want something to calm me.”

An hourglass appears over the bunny’s head as it interprets his request. A few seconds later, a single option appears: Dior Aeolian Deposit.

“Fine.”

The meter on the right adjusts the dose. After it reminds Kodai that he can adjust it manually, or by syncing his iNet feed, the experience begins.

Inhale, exhale.

With the mask over his face, Kodai experiences a brief moment of calm, which is, of course, interrupted by his disappointment in the outcome of his day.

He’s losing control, which is something that plagues him in a way that reaches to his very core. Inhale, exhale and relax, he reminds himself, things are going according to plan. He thinks back to the proceedings of the day and a slight grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. He is just about to manually up the dosage when Sarah approaches him.

She reaches him before he can take the mask off, places her elbows on the bar top and leans forward in a way that arches her back end.

Sarah is in a sheer black dress tonight that barely covers the cheeks of her ass. Criss-crossed spaghetti straps over her chest keep her funbags from spilling out. The black choker collar around her neck is accented by a small trinket shaped into a diamond studded spade, and she wears long earrings which dangle to the bottom of her neckline.

“Do you mind if I have a puff?” she asks.

“I don’t normally share.”

“I don’t normally ask a client to share.”

“Fair enough.” Kodai unclips the mask from behind his head and hands it to her. The action of taking the mask off overwhelms his senses for just a moment – suddenly, he’s back in the dimly lit club and even with the dark spaces, color has returned to everything. An image of Meosa’s face and the trickle of blood flashes in his mind’s eye. It disappears as quickly as it came.

Without strapping the pollute mask to her head, mostly to avoid messing up her hair, Sarah takes three fast puffs. On her final exhale, she turns to Kodai. “Is there something bothering you?” she asks.

“My brother,” he says in Japanese.

“Your what?” she asks over the loud music.

He switches to English. “My business. Every time I get a leg-up, something makes sure to take my knees out from beneath me.”

“Have another hit,” she tells him.

He obliges, takes the mask from her and inhales deeply. A thought comes to him, “What do you call a puppetless puppetmaster?”

Sarah moves closer to him and motions for him to bend towards her. Once he has done so, she says in a voice just above a whisper, “If it’s control you want, Kodai, you can control me, any way you want.”

He shifts away from her and cocks an eyebrow. “You’d like that?”

She nods. “I would.”

“Why?”

“It’s what I like.” She brushes a single curl of hair out of her face.

“What happens if I get out of control?” Kodai grabs her wrist and pulls her to him. For a moment, they stare pupil to pupil and to his surprise, she doesn’t look away.

“That’s up to you,” she finally says. A hostess in a blue dress passes them and quickly averts her eyes away.

“Why do you trust me?” Kodai asks after taking another small hit off his pollute mask. “I’m dangerous.”

She laughs softly. “Danger is in the eye of the beholder.”

“I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

“Nevermind.” Sarah’s visage morphs into a wolfish grin. “You’ve had a long night, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

“Then let’s leave. You go first and I’ll follow.”

Enchanted by the look in her eyes, Kodai slowly nods his head. “Got it.”

“We’ll go to your place.”

“Of course.”

“And then what will happen?” she asks.

“I’ll watch you undress, shower, go to the … ” He clears his throat. “I’ll watch you do whatever I tell you to do.”

“Fine, I like the sound of that.” She turns and glances back at him over her shoulder. “As long as it helps you clear your head.”

Chapter 21: Rilakkuma pancakes on the fly

First thing in the morning, Ryuk vows, that’s when he’ll log back in to join Tamana and his guildmates. Sure, he could stay in Tritania using his Somnium skip box, but it’s late in the real world, and there’s something about one’s own bed that the digital world just can’t replicate. Besides, Tamana needs some rest. Now that she’s an RPC, she has to sleep.

His haptic rig powers down and he takes off his NV visor. He yawns, contemplates moving to the living room to tell Hajime the good news, and thinks otherwise. Even if he protests, Hajime will insist that he eats breakfast; Ryuk can tell him then.

“Hajime?” he whispers, just to be sure that the humandroid isn’t seated in a dark corner of his room meditating. No one answers.

He stands, yawns again, and over iNet, he instructs the lights in his room to dim ever-so-slightly. Once they’ve done so, he goes for the small box on his desk. Domo-kun rocks the front of the box of ListerCope Winter Fire Spearmint BrushFast, and as Ryuk opens it, a message appears on his iNet desktop offering him a coupon on his next purchase of ListerCope.

He’s seconds away from swiping it away when FeeTwix’s avatar, rich boy gloves, golden hair and all hops down in front of the box and shoots him a thumbs up. “Hello there, honorable oral hygiene enthusiasts in the Metro Tokyo urboplex! Mention #FeeTwixRox at checkout and take an additional 10% off!” the little avatar tells him in Japanese. “Arigato gozaimasu!” It then bows repeatedly.

Is he really that popular? Ryuk considers this for a moment. The ad probably just targeted me because I’m a Tritania regular. He swipes the message away, simultaneously reminding himself that he’d better watch what he says in front of FeeTwix.

After removing the plastic from the BrushFast kit, Ryuk places the mouth guard in and it goes to work, quickly dissolving as it cleans his teeth and freshens his breath. He climbs into his bed and pulls a single blanket up to his shoulders. The lights above him morph to a subtly maroon color and slowly fade off.

He selects the latest episode of Flight Feet,フライトフィート, and picks up where he left off. An epic forest battle between Attla spiders and a guild led by a busty blue-haired elf plays out across his eyelids, and it only takes a second for his thoughts to drift somewhere else.

Tamana.

Seeing her face and the rapid recovery as she drank the healing potion made everything worthwhile. Even though he never dwells on it, she was his only friend in Tokyo. The thought that she’s dead still pains him, but at least she is alive in Tritania, a world he can visit whenever he likes.

Ryuk opens his eyes. A wave of black sluices across his wall as his lids grow heavy and slumber carries him away.

(0)__(0)

A breakfast prompt awakes Ryuk.

He selects the Rilakkuma-inspired pancake set and rolls to his side. His iNet system comes to life, providing him with everything from the weather to the news. Notifications on the lower left-hand pane of his vision tell him that the Mitherfickers are rich in rupees and that FeeTwix has already logged in.

He sits up, rubs his eyes, and quickly views a replay of the game Hiccup and FeeTwix played with the bards last night. So that’s Punch Chest, huh? Reviewing at ten times the speed doesn’t make the dialogue any clearer, but it isn’t dialogue he’s after; Ryuk simply wants to be caught up.

Hiccup disappears, likely to see to Tamana in their hostel, and reappears.

Zaena materializes just as more rupees are wagered. The bards lose everything, accuse Hiccup and FeeTwix of cheating, and challenge them to a duel. FeeTwix mows them down with some sort of submachine gun, collapses from his life bar penalty, and is helped back to the hostel by Hiccup and Zaena.

All in a night’s work. Ryuk can’t help but chuckle.

After changing and putting on his black hooded sweatshirt, Ryuk enters the living room, determined to make breakfast conversation short as he needs to log back in. Still, there’s something he’d like to say to Hajime.

“Have you thought more about the difference between Kodai and you?” The humandroid goes with a question rather than ohayō gozaimasu.

Ryuk bows his head. “Sorry, I’ve been preoccupied. Hajime … ”

“Yes?” The humandroid flips the pancake and finally makes eye contact with Ryuk.

“I want to thank you for inspiring me. I still don’t know exactly what your oblique card from yesterday meant, but by contemplating on it, I was able to develop a strategy and … ” He smiles. “I, we, rescued Tamana last night. The Thulean and I. I thought of the differences between the Shinigami and our guild and how to emphasize them. I figured the best way forward was to play our differences and do something unpredictable.”

Hajime nods, clearly impressed. “So rather than gather intel, you went for it, huh? The ultimate quest is really progressing.”

“I just knew it was the right thing to do and seriously, we were lucky, everything played out in a way and sure, we barely got away, but we did get away and now Tamana is with us and seriously, I need to log in. We’re going to level up all day and take it to the Shinigami.”

“I know she’s back and you are experiencing joy because of this, but I think there is still more to discover regarding the friction between you and your older brother.” Hajime walks over to the table and places a pancake on the plate in front of Ryuk.

“I get it, I really do. I know the difference between us and how to emphasize it. Easy – acknowledge it and move on.” Ryuk tears in the pancake and stuffs a large piece into his mouth. “I’ve got to hurry, Hajime, Tamana and the others are waiting. I’ll catch you up later,” he assures the humandroid.

Hajime offers him a skeptical look.

“What?” Ryuk asks with his mouth full of pancake. He chews and swallows hard. “Okay, differences between my brother and me, um, here goes: he’s a thug who went to NYU who is better than me at most things and who is trying to follow in my father’s footsteps. That about sums it up.”

“It would be interesting if one of those things wasn’t true. It may even break the power he holds over you. Just think about it.”

Ryuk’s jaw drops open. “He didn’t finish, did he?”

Hajime sits back in his chair. “How should I know?”

“You obviously know. You can access his transcripts!”

“And you can’t?”

“Of course I can’t. That stuff is private. Universities just don’t release them, especially in a place like America. People would sue.”

The humandroid considers this for a moment. He takes his hair tie out and tightens his small ponytail before putting it back on.

“Well?” Ryuk asks, on the edge of his seat now with suspense and a burning urge to finish breakfast and log in.

“You could ask me to call in a favor … ”

“Would you?”

Hajime shrugs. “I already did.”

“So I’m right, aren’t I? Kodai didn’t graduate from NYU.”

“Yes, you are right, but it shouldn’t have taken artificial intelligence to goad you along until you came to this realization.”

“You’re saying I should have asked before?”

“That, or you should have looked into it yourself. Finding a person’s transcript in the age of iNet isn’t difficult.”

Ryuk grimaces. “He’s given me so much shit about going to college, and to think he didn’t even finish!”

“That may be why he has given you so much shit, as you put it.”

After another bite of his pancake, Ryuk pushes himself away from the table. “I need to go.” He bows at Hajime. “Thanks again for helping me.”

He motions to Ryuk’s plate. “Before you go, please, check today’s oblique card.”

Ryuk moves his plate to the side to find a notecard: Faced with a choice, do both.

Chapter 22: Dirty Dave’s Armor and Weapons Depot

Ryuk ignores the feedback as he takes shape in his avatar. He has picked up right where he left off, in their shared room in the Mondegreen Hostel.

Hiccup, clad only in a navel ring and leopard print jockstrap lies on the bed opposite Tamana. His blanket is wadded around his ankles and his mechanical fingers brush the floor. He snores like a congested heifer, and the unmistakable miasma of l’air du Goblin permeates the room.

After a quick check, he swipes the Mitherfickers’ stats away.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 8 Ballistics Mage

HP: 270/270

ATK: 71

MATK: 94

DEF: 54

MDF: 37

LUCK: 10

FeeTwix Fajer Level 12 Berserker Mystic

HP: 336/336

ATK: 89

MATK: 27

DEF: 63

MDF: 32

LUCK: 13

Hiccup Level 10 Shield Thief

HP: 425/425

ATK: 70

MATK: 13

DEF: 101

MDF: 48

LUCK: 9

Zaena Morozon Level 12 Brawler Assassin

HP: 357/357

ATK: 91

MATK: 8

DEF: 88

MDF: 24

LUCK: 14

Tamana Nakamura Level 2 White Warrior

HP: 138/138

MANA: 79/79

ATK: 52

DEF: 19

MATK: 12

MDF: 38

LUCK: 3

FeeTwix: It’s about time you showed up. We took a room on the top floor with a view of the Bonsor River. It’s a room normally reserved for the wait staff, but it definitely did the trick. I had some Sotlian macaroons delivered via an EBAYmazon dragon and … well, let’s just say that they work exactly as advertised. We’ll be down in a few minutes. Wake the goblin up.

Ryuk looks to Tamana, smiling down at her as she gently rests with her hands over her chest. She’s in a nightgown, with long sleeves and a collar of embroidered lace. She senses his presence; her eyes open and they settle on him.

He takes a knee. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” She yawns and pushes some of her silvery white hair out of her face. A halo radiates around her head for a moment and settles. As she sits up, she quickly draws her hair back into a tight ponytail.

“Actually … ” Tamana lets her hair drop and quickly braids the sides. She accesses a golden hair clip from her inventory list and secures the end of the braid. Concern flits across her face as she braids the other side. “I just remembered a dream I had last night – well, not a dream, more of a nightmare.”

“What happened?”

“There was a fight, a huge battle, and all of us were there. Just as we were about to kill the last of them, you turned on us. You killed each of us individually, and you saved me for last.” She gasps. “You blew my head off, even as I begged you not to.”

“I’d never do that!” Ryuk reaches for her hand and squeezes it. “You know I’d never do that, I’d never betray you.”

“I know, I know.” She takes her hand from his and stands. As she does, her nightgown disappears and her leather armor forms, complete with large golden epaulets with white sparkly tassels. “It was just a nightmare,” she assures him. “You’re right.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that, never to you.” He wants to tell her about how much he cares for her and how he’d do anything for her, especially now, especially after losing her in the real world, but as he steels himself to finally bare his soul, Hiccup sunders the moment with a foul and feculent blast from his nether cheeks.

The goblin startles awake, leaps from the bed, and falls flat on his face. His eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and a berserker’s hand axe appears in his mechanical hand as he fights his way to his feet.

“Holy fickin’ shit!” he bellows as he spins around. “Who fickin’ did that?”

Tamana giggles and pinches her nose as she retreats to the far side of the small room.

Damn goblin, Ryuk thinks as Hiccup checks behind himself for any collateral damage.

“Shit,” the goblin turns to Ryuk, “that was me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, you farted yourself awake like a mangy dog.”

“It was those fickin’ lemon pepper dragon wings, I tells ya. I had some more last night, midnight snack if you will, after handing it to those pussywillow bards.” He wipes his hands together. “Welp, I’ll be down the hall in the Little Goblins’ room for just a few moments. Marbles, go ahead and tell the guy that runs the place that I’d like some brekky, Konakhchani Rohva, if he has it, and I’m pretty sure he does.”

“And what is that exactly?” Ryuk asks.

“Caramelized hog feet. Tell him to crack some raw dove eggs over it. Sotlian crow eggs would be better, but they’re not in season right now.”

Tamana cringes.

Hiccup bristles. “Look, Miss Macrobiotic – if you don’t like what I eat, don’t get any – but spare me the judgmental icky-icky face and just get whatever healthy trendy cruelty-free vegan diet food is currently in vogue.”

The door opens outward. FeeTwix and Zaena enter, holding hands. Hiccup rolls his eyes and steps out to perform his toilette.

“Great Googly-Moogly!” the Swede exclaims as his nose wrinkles and his eyes water. “I’d ask what that smell is, but our pink-haired buddy was letting those rip all night!”

“Twick you, Fixy!” The goblin calls over his shoulders. “Shit. You know what I mean!”

“Is it safe to breathe?” Zaena asks after the goblin is a good five meters away.

Feetwix nods and looks to Ryuk. “Did you check the guild’s coffers? Fifty thousand rupees, thank-you-very-much. At one point, we were up eighty thousand, but he-who-shall-not-be-named bet a third of it on a ponytail race – which should seriously be illegal because those races are pretty fucked up. Still, we have enough to get some healing potions and better armor. Also, one of my fans has extended a line of credit to me. He’s a banker in Valhalla, by the way, so if we’re over any, he can hook us up.”

“I was hoping not to get involved with in-game banking,” Ryuk says.

Zaena clears her throat. “Same here, but if we’re going with your plan, we need all the help we can get.”

“You know about my plan?”

“I told them,” says Tamana, “after they returned last night.”

“And you guys are up for it?”

“Surprise attack the Shinigami at their rented guildhall? You bet your ass we are.” FeeTwix points at his blue eyes. “My viewership breached one million last night. Crazy numbers, really. And that’s just live viewers. People love watching Hiccup gamble, it seems. The replays alone have already been viewed three million times in less than twenty-four hours, and the sponsors are going insane.”

A thought occurs to Ryuk, something he hasn’t pondered before. “Your viewers don’t know of our plan to bring the fight to the Shinigami?”

FeeTwix scoffs. “Of course they don’t!”

“Did you see any real world players in their guild? They’re all NPCs or RPCs, aren’t they?”

“There was the one commoner in the group that attacked me in the forest,” Zaena turns to Ryuk, “the one that looked like you. But he wasn’t at their guild last night. We would have definitely seen him. He may have simply been a magic-wielding mercenary.”

“How would that explain the fact he was using my face?”

She shrugs. “Maybe he found what you look like in a guild registry or something.”

“Still, couldn’t the Shinigami use your feed to find us, to track us?” Ryuk asks.

“It’s easy. If they find us, we’ll simply respawn back here and I’ll cut the feed.” FeeTwix rubs his hands together. “They don’t know where we are staying. If it helps, we can book another hostel or two as respawn points, just to throw them off if they do track us down. In fact, that’s a damn good idea. Let’s go,” he tells Zaena, “and get another place.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jim the hostelier calls from the hallway outside of their room. FeeTwix and Zaena step aside to let him in.

Their host is stylishly accoutered in a freshly-pressed tuxedo, and his face is shaved baby-bottom smooth. “This hostel is warded with algomagic,” he informs them, “a powerful spell cast by the leader of the Knights of Non Compos Mentis.”

Ryuk turns to Tamana and watches as she says, “Sophia.”

“Why yes,” says Jim, “I should have assumed you knew her considering both of you were once part of her guild, I’m given to understand.”

Tamana nods.

Jim gives her a twitchy smile. “Indeed, but as I was saying – and I beg your pardon most humbly for intruding, but the door was open and I suspect that you will find this information useful, despite my lack of proper doormanship.”

“Go on,” says the Swede.

“This establishment is a sanctuary guildhall for all of our paying guests for the duration of their stay. If you die and respawn here, your person is sacrosanct and inviolate within the confines of our most humblest of humble abodes.” He dusts a fleck of something off his shoulder.

“So if we die and respawn here, no one can follow us, right?” Ryuk asks.

“Precisely. These are all precautions, mind you, and I inform you of them so that you may better formulate your plans, whatever they may be.”

“How does it work?” FeeTwix asks. “I mean, how can you create a place in which only selected players or groups can spawn?”

“Ah, yes,” Jim says, “the interior of this structure is what’s known as an OMIB space.” He waives his hand around. “I trust you’re familiar with the term?”

FeeTwix looks from Zaena to Ryuk. Only Tamana seems to have heard the term before. “Orthogonal Matrix Inverse Base – OMIB.”

“Yes indeed, White Warrior – you’re quite correct; please enlighten your companions later, if you would. Basically, it means that this is a very exclusive, controlled space and no one gets in without my approval.” The odd immiNPC hostelier clears his throat. “Now then, were there any breakfast requests? The chef and the saucier will be leaving soon for a private engagement.”

“Konakhchani Rohva!” Hiccup calls from the hallway. “And for the love of the Empress, let’s get this show on the road.” He shoulders past Jim, leaves a trail of wet footprints and drags a toilet paper tail into the room behind him.

“I’ll have the same,” Zaena says, “I’ve been craving.”

“I’m good,” says FeeTwix.

“Same.” Ryuk turns to Tamana. “Hungry?”

“Plomeek soup with tofu and flatbread, please.”

(0)__(0)

After a hurried breakfast, the five Mitherfickers make their way to the Aramis Riverwalk, which sits along the Bonsor River and is overshadowed by the tall towers of the financial district. Tamana wears a robe with a hood that obscures most her face. She’s travelling incognito, so her handle isn’t visible. It’s a bit risky, but the five of them need to gear up and to do so, they need to go out in public.

Unlike other shopping districts on the three floating continents of Tritania, the one in Aramis is known for its hodgepodge of shops that sell everything from weapons and armor to souvenirs and tchotchkes.

Like Bar Row, most of the shops take advantage of the absolute lack of zoning regulations and are closely packed together. Ryuk too pulls his hood over his head to blend in with Tamana. It’s amazing the power of a hood when it comes to one’s fantasy-world confidence – truth be told, just because you can’t see someone in your peripheral vision doesn’t mean they can’t see you.

FeeTwix points at a place call Over Armour. “That looks decent enough.” His eyes flash as he reads a message from a fan. “Nope, there’s a better spot.”

“Dirty Dave’s Armor and Weapons Depot?” Zaena stops and her face hardens. “I’m pretty sure that that’s the same Dirty Dave who introduced wizardous to Tritania.”

Hiccup waves her concern away. “Look, just because someone is filthy rich and famous, doesn’t mean they’re fickin’ selling drugs. Until the Magistrates in Porthos actually decide his case, Dave is still innocent, in my humblest of opinions. Let’s get in there and blow our wad.”

“Well, when you put it like that … ” FeeTwix takes the lead, ushering the others forward.

Dirty Dave’s Armor and Weapons Depot is a single story warehouse, not much larger than the buildings surrounding it. What makes it unique are the two roof-mounted turrets with six-barrel mini guns, crewed by a pair of NPC fawns in combat helmets and wraparound Oakley sunglasses, who sometimes amuse themselves by flinging pellets of faun poo at unsuspecting passersby.

The Mitherfickers stop in front of a large circular entrance that resembles a vault door. FeeTwix places his gloved hands on a Steampunk-y helm and gives it a spin. The door pops open almost immediately, and the Swede politely opens it all the way to let Tamana and Zaena in. Not one to miss the opportunity of an open door, Hiccup elbows his way to the front of the group and enters first.

Last in, Ryuk closes the door and stands in awe at the sheer scope and variety of weapons arrayed before him.

Some are in glass display cases and others are mounted in wall racks. There are enough blades, maces, spears, pikes, and lances to supply two crusades and a jihad and still have enough left over for some old school ethnic cleansing. The other side of the warehouse reminds Ryuk of a sporting goods store with its displays, live mechanical demos, hanging tapestries depicting famous battles, and even a kid’s section, in which aspiring warriors can test-fit armor and battle with Nerph weapons under the watchful gaze of orc referees.

“It’s a lot to take in,” FeeTwix finally says, picking up on Ryuk’s thoughts. “And it is so much larger in here than it appears outside.”

“Welcome.” An NPC with a thin smile and nearly translucent skin steps out from behind one of the counters. He’s in a neatly pressed morning coat with an elaborately tied white silk cravat that doesn’t cover the vertical Thulean tattoos running up his neck. His hair is slicked back from a widow’s peak, and as he speaks, the glint from his sharpened silver teeth catches Ryuk’s eyes. “Welcome to Dirty Dave’s.”

Hiccup gives the salesperson a skeptical look. “This place isn’t owned by the same Dirty Dave who invented wizardous, is it?”

The man smiles. “You’d have to ask Dirty Dave.”

“Is he here?”

A name tag that reads Dirty Dave materializes on the salesperson’s chest. “At your service.”

Dirty Dave Level 99

HP: 8999/8999

MANA: 4697/4697

ATK: 3347

MATK: 1679

DEF: 3000

MDF: 3000

LUCK: 115

Hiccup nods, impressed. “So you’re Dirty Dave?”

“You’d be surprised what a level 99 Mind Mage can do, including being in several places at once. Regarding the drug trafficking charges, those are just hearsay and fake news. Alternative facts.”

“See, Lizzy?” Hiccup shakes his head at Zaena. “I told you. Innocent until proven guilty.”

Dirty Dave approaches Ryuk, his eyes trained on the marble gun. “How very unusual! That is some algoweapon you have there. Mind if I take a look?”

Ryuk unholsters his marble gun and removes the magazine. He lays the weapon on the counter with the muzzle pointed in a safe direction.

“It’s a fine piece,” Dirty Dave muses as he looks the weapon over. “Do you mind if I touch it?”

“By all means.”

Dirty Dave sticks out a finger crowned with a pointed yellow fingernail. A plastic glove forms on his hand, and as he runs his finger along the Thulean script engraved on the barrel of the gun. The inscription glows green. “Very good, very interesting work.” He mumbles in Thulean as he reads it. He asks, “Someone from Chrono’s school made this, correct?”

“Yes, Dory the Weaponsmith.”

“It is an interesting specimen and very well made, but I expect that I can improve upon it somewhat. Not now though. I’ll need some time to develop something … ” He straightens his back as the word comes to him. “Something more automatic, for sportier situations. Also, I’m almost certain I can improve upon the magazine capacity. You get eight marbles per magazine, correct?”

“Um, yes. How did you know?”

Dirty Dave waves the question away. “Show me a weapon I don’t know and I’ll give you anything in the store.” He glances around to make his point. “Anything. With your dream armor and your upgraded weapon, there isn’t much I can offer you today. You are aware that your armor will start leveling up with you once you reach level ten, are you not? With that armor, you’ll never need an armor upgrade.”

“Seriously?”

Dave gives him a wolfish grin. “That’s what I’m here for, to educate. I don’t have anything for you today, next time. Moving on, and we will keep this short because my guess is you five are looking to get out of town.”

“What makes you think that?” Tamana asks.

“I sell weapons and I know things.”

“But not drugs!” Hiccup pipes in.

“Most certainly not and thank-you for your support, Hiccupanaratapana. I have the perfect thing for you. Follow me.”

Hiccup gives Ryuk a fanboy look that screams, ‘he knows my name!’

A high table with a silver box on it takes shape next to Dirty Dave. He lifts it by the handles to reveal a battered helm with goat horns. The helm sits atop a chainmail vest that faintly radiates yellow energy.

“It’s enchanted?” Ryuk asks.

“Ever-so-slightly,” says Dirty Dave. “It will increase your LUCK by fifteen points.”

“We’re going to be rich.” Hiccup hops up and down. “Howzabout lowering that table so I can actually check it out.”

The table lowers by about a half meter and Hiccup equips the helm. “A little help here,” he tells Tamana, who springs into action and helps him with the chainmail.

“Next.” Dirty Dave steps over to Zaena. He admires her for a moment. His eyebrows lift as he settles on a thought. “Ah, so that’s who you are. Interesting.”

The green color drains from her face. “No it’s not,” she mouths.

The weapons dealer tilts his head and winks. “As you wish. Now then, you’re going to need better swords.”

His table elongates and four short swords pixelate into existence. Their hilts are gold with Thulean script wrapping the grips and the center ridge of each sword is four shades darker than the rest of the blade.

“These are forged from the finest depleted Pelosium. I recently purchased these four from Kay and Ray’s Chib-O-Rama Superette – purveyors of high quality cutlery for every purpose. I am prescient like that at times. These increase your attack power by twenty points, and come with a signed certificate of authenticity. As for your armor, I will upgrade you once you reach a higher level.”

Two of the swords lift into the air and move through a brief attack-parry-thrust exercise. Zaena picks up the other two and tests their weight and balance. “Thank you,” she finally says, “they are wonderfully crafted.”

“Now to the White Warrior.” He stops in front of Tamana and examines her for a moment. A rectangular box made from white metal takes shape on his table; it contains an opalescent two-piece cuirass.

“You are the lowest level in the group,” he says, “so this will serve you now, and as you progress it will progress with you. This armor decreases any damage or injury done to you by twenty-five percent. It also heals you by 1% of your health every three minutes. It only adds ten points to your defense stat, but at the same time, it adds thirty to your magic defense. Later, as you level up, there will be more items like this that I can prepare for you. I’ll also be able to up the defense points on this, but not until you are a higher level.”

“This is wonderful!” Tamana slips into the armor. “And the fit … it’s like you knew my size.”

Ryuk laughs. This is something Tamana always said to Tritanian NPCs. Of course the armor is her size, any armor equipped is automatically the equipee’s size, but Tamana always goes out of her way to make the NPC feel special, worthy of praise.

“Thank you,” she says, bowing.

“My pleasure.”

Dirty Dave steps in front of FeeTwix. “And we arrive at the Quantum Hughes methodology enthusiast.”

FeeTwix gawks. “You know him?”

“Knew him. It was my misfortune to have to deal with him for two subjective years, as he liked to say. This was in a different world, before I came here.” He smiles a pointy and predatory smile. “I know you. You’re the type of player who scrolls through your list behind your back, totally unpredictable, a bit of a loose cannon, but usually surprisingly effective. Am I right?”

“Not completely,” FeeTwix says. “Most times, I let my viewers select my weapon.”

“Viewers?”

FeeTwix points at his eyes which are blue at the moment.

“Ah yes, your viewers. Keep your feed off and follow me.” He turns, and motions for FeeTwix to come with him. “The rest of you stay here, and as my dear departed dad used to say, keep your hands in your pockets and don’t make nose prints on the glass.”

Dirty Dave approaches an oversized knight standing against a stretch of blank wall.

The knight’s accoutered in heavy, uncomfortable-looking, elaborate pink cloisonné Hello Unicorn themed armor that sports a sugar skull helmet with big pink bunny ears. The pink knight rests both hands on the hilt of a massive broadsword, the tip of which is pressed to the floor between his feet. Dave reaches up, smacks the knight on the helmet and whispers something in Thulean. The knight’s answering growl is so low as to be almost inaudible, and his grip tightens on the hilt.

The weaponeer raises a finger in admonishment. “Just remember what happened the last time you tried that, Matthew.”

The pink bunny knight sighs, side-steps to the right and assumes his original position.

A dark blue, three-meter shield decorated with white clouds and an armored fist clenching lightning bolts and an olive branch forms on the wall. It splits vertically down the middle and ponderously swings inward to reveal a gray, industrial steel staircase. At the bottom is a heavy steel blast door; Dave enters a lengthy numerical sequence into a keypad and the door swings inward. The lights come up, and The Swede gasps.

Mounted on the walls of the cavern, displayed in cases, and stored in racks are a variety of weapons, the likes of which has FeeTwix just about depositing digital genetic material in his underoos. “Holy CRAP – look at this stuff! I am seriously not worthy!” He presses his nose against a display case and actually slobbers on it. “OMG, Dave! That’s a genuine BFG 9000! How much?”

“Well spotted, sir, but it’s for display only, I’m afraid.”

“And that … he points to a slick-looking weapon with a cube shaped muzzle.

“A PHASR – personal halting and stimulation response rifle – with an enhanced neuromuscular inhibitor.”

“And this … ” FeeTwix approaches a golden ax behind thick glass. One side of the ax is fractured off, and veins pulsating with an ethereal green liquid extend down the weapons cheek, over its lug, and all the way to the knob on the other end.

Dirty Dave steps in front of him. “Also for display only, sorry to say. I do, however, have something similar.”

He takes a dragonwood case out from a drawer and sets it on the table in the center of the room. After registering his fingerprint, the lid lifts on its own, revealing a dagger with a damascened blade and an intricately wrought emerald handle.

“A knife?” FeeTwix asks.

“Not just any knife, pick it up.”

FeeTwix lifts the knife and it immediately starts to grow. Tendrils of symbiose peel off the weapon and wrap around the Swede’s hand. They spiral up his shoulder and form a hardened shell with pulsating veins. Once the blade has formed, and underslung barrel takes shape, its muzzle rimmed in green energy.

“A mutant hack?” FeeTwix asks.

“Yes, an algoweapon as it is known here. This one you’ll find is most excellent, and far superior to the one you already have.”

“How did you know I have one?”

Dirty Dave taps his finger against his temple. “I’ve been saving this particular specimen whom I’ve named Colonel Bowie, for the right buyer, and the little bird on my shoulder tells me that that buyer is you. Tritania’s NVA seed put a restriction on how many times this sort of weapon can be used – thanks to your hero, Quantum Hughes, by the way. You can use it once a day, for the duration of whatever battle you are engaged in. Don’t forget that, and don’t be surprised if this weapon does more than you originally intend for it to do. This one was made here in Tritania, and like I said, it’s much more powerful than yours.”

FeeTwix admires the weapon for a moment. He runs his free hand along the hack’s exterior, flicks it to test its hardness. “That reminds me, my guildmates told me about some type of protective vest that would prevent damage from using unapproved weapons.”

Dave nods. “You’re referring to Doc’s tactical vest. There were two in existence, actually, but I was never able to get one. I was, however, able to examine one and reverse engineer a duplicate.” He bends and opens another drawer. He returns to the display table with a black sleeveless tactical vest lined with pockets. “It isn’t quite as good as Doc’s – that man was truly an artist in every sense of the word – and it won’t give you any additional defense points, but it will limit the life bar penalty to no more than 15%.”

FeeTwix slips into the black tactical vest and zips it up. “I love it,” he says as he runs his hands up and down the front of the vest. “Now I won’t have to chug as many healing potions.”

(0)__(x)

Dirty Dave and FeeTwix join the rest of the group in the front room. Zaena is performing some flashy and elaborate four-armed sword drills and Hiccup, his goat-horned helm perched on his head, watches her and comments in Thulean.

“Now comes my second favorite part,” the weapons dealer claps his hands together. “Let’s discuss remuneration.” His eyes light up as he drums his fingers together.

“We have a little over fifty thousand rupees,” Ryuk informs him. As the scion of a well-to-do Yakuza clan, he’s never had to concern himself with what things cost, and is ignorant of the primary rule of bartering – don’t tell ‘em how much you have.

“How excellent,” Dirty Dave claps his hands in delight. “That should almost exactly cover the tip!”

All eyes turn to Hiccup.

“Now just a fickin’ minute,” he objects. “Yeah we’re a little short of funds, but it’s not like I’m the one who pissed away seventy thousand … oh, wait – that was me.” He huffs, “Well, at least I’m not the one who blew ten grand at the fancy house … no, that was me, too. Well, I for sure didn’t lose twenty-five large on a fixed ponytail race to an ink shadow … um, yeah – that was also me. No matter. We’ll never go back to Sotla so we won’t have to pay it back.”

“We?” Ryuk clenches his fists.

A slightly contrite Hiccup stage whispers behind his hand, “Okay – never mind. Just leave it to me. I’ll trick this yokel into dropping his prices with my superior negotiating skills.” With a thoroughly unconvincing and most insincere grin crookedly plastered across his lumpy goblin physiognomy, he turns to the weaponeer. “Oh kind, gentle, charitable Mr. Dirty Dave, sir!” He hurls himself at the proprietor’s feet, wraps his arms around Dave’s ankles and weeps and caterwauls. “Through no fault of mine, we are seriously short of funds. Please, oh please good kind sir – is there any way you can help us out?”

Numbers of electric blue fire form in the air as Dave reads off the costs of the weapons.

The final total – eighty-six thousand, seven hundred and fifty-three rupees flashes like the tote board for the national corporate debt, and a scroll with a handsomely calligraphied itemized receipt materializes out of thin air and drops into Ryuk’s hand.

He gulps. “That’s quite a bit.”

“I disagree. You get what you pay for, young sir, and despite Mr. Goblin’s shenanigans, I did not charge you the usual ten percent PUWYBS surcharge, in addition to the generous five percent discount that I don’t normally offer to the walk-in trade, plus an additional seven hundred off the top.” Dave’s eyes narrow on the five. “Consider it a complimentary Knights of Non Compos Mentis discount.”

FeeTwix: PUWYBS – Putting up with your bullshit. I’ve been charged this before by a guy I call Steampunk Santa in Steam.

“But that’s no longer my guild,” Ryuk says. “Ow! Dammit!”

Hiccup removes his metal fist from where he’d pounded it into Ryuk’s toes, and hisses, “Shut the fick up and take the fickin’ discount!”

“Wait!” FeeTwix announces, his finger in the air, “I have a bill of credit.” The Swede gives his list a quick looksee and a scroll appears. “Take a look at this.”

The weapons dealer unrolls the scroll, examines it, offers the Mitherfickers a satisfied nod, and a red Thulean wax stamp appears on the parchment hovering in front of Ryuk.

“We are in so much debt now,” Ryuk mutters under his breath.

“Debt?” Hiccup scoffs. “I hate to break it to you, Marbles, but thirty K worth of debt is nothing. Remember those orcs we were running from in Sotla? I owed those fickers at least seventy K, owed the brothel another ten.”

“That’s your debt, not ours.”

“But it would have become ours if they had caught me. The way I see it, we’re already eighty K up and that’s without the bonus I’ve been promised.”

“You owe some orcs eighty thousand rupees in Sotla?” Tamana shakes her head and looks to Zaena.

“What, Tammy? And don’t get Liz involved in this discussion; she wasn’t even a member of our guild at that time!”

Zaena ruffles his clump of pink hair with her ghost limb.

“Hey! Watch the hair!”

“We’ll get the money the good old-fashioned way – advertising, fighting, and gambling.” FeeTwix grins. “I’m not worried about it.”

Dave snaps his fingers and a crate of healing potions appear. “This isn’t something I normally do, but I was recently given a year’s supply of SafeKrogerWay healing potions for sponsoring the annual Waringtla Tournament. The case is yours. There are also two mana potions in there, if the White Warrior needs them.”

“The store brand kind? Eew!” Hiccup groans, doffs his helmet, and tucks it under his mechanical arm.

“And that’s not all.” Pixie dust swirls around Dave’s hand as a ray gun with a bulbous barrel takes shape.

“Fick me.” Hiccup mumbles as he lifts his hands into the air. “Dammit, I should have known!”

Tamana draws her weapon and steps in front of the group, her surfboard-sized sword nearly as long as Hiccup is tall. Ryuk aims his marble gun, Zaena her four new swords, and FeeTwix his mutant hack.

“Ha!” Dave snorts in amusement. “The five of you versus … me? Now those are some odds I can get behind! But fear not, dear friends – I’m not here to shoot you. If I wanted you dead, to quote an old friend, you wouldn’t have made it to the door. No, this ray gun is something I invented that modifies an avatar’s D-NAS – digital neuronal autoconstruct system – to spoof the world’s algorithm into granting double experience points for a six-hour time frame. You people need to level up, especially you, White Warrior, and this will help. Also, before you ask, it isn’t for sale.”

He puts the ray gun away.

“Aren’t you going to fire it?” FeeTwix asks.

“I already did. No glitz or glam about the EXP Ray Gun, but you do have a time limit to reap the most awards, and as it is currently the Hour of the Morning Pig, you have until the Hour of the Rabbit to take advantage of the algospell. Recently, in Kayi, near the Klin Mountains, there’s been an outbreak of orc zombies. They’ve since taken over the town, turned most of the townspeople into zombies, and as such, the Aramis Security Force are looking for a few good entities to help rid the town of the Z infestation. And talk about luck … ”A badge the size of a dinner plate appears on his chest. “I’m also sponsor of and a recruiter for the ASF.”

“You a cop?” Hiccup asks.

“Did I say cop? No, I’m a businessman, and military and law enforcement make up the bulk of my business.”

“But you have legal … um, difficulties in Ultima Thule,” says Zaena.

“Yes, but that’s in Ultima Thule, a different continent from where we currently stand. Besides, I prefer Hyperborea over UT. UT is cold, drab, wretched, cold and nowhere near as interesting as the other two continents – no offense intended, Thulean.”

Zaena starts to say something but bites her lip instead.

“Anyway … ” Dave again offers the five his predatory grin. “It’s a free-for-all out there with tons of enemies. By accepting the quest, you’ll be transported there instantly.”

A prompt appears in front of Ryuk and he hovers his finger over the accept button.

Quest: Will you join the ASF to vanquish orc zombies that have infested the town of Kayi?

Possible Rewards: Loads of EXP and multiple networking possibilities with the police force command structure.

Risks: Zombies will eat you.

Chapter 23: Orc zombie battle royal

The five Mitherfickers spawn in front of Kayi’s cathedral and the walking dead take immediate notice of them.

“Weapons up! Face outboard!” shouts FeeTwix. The closest zulu is a once-attractive ASF officer, with one arm off at the elbow and her guts trailing along behind her. She treads on her innards, stumbles and makes no effort to catch herself as she lays herself out full length.

FeeTwix’s M4 Carbine takes shape in his hands. “Let’s do this,” he grins, as he pops the ASF zombie through the top of her head.

Instakill!

A zombie orc springs at Tamana; Ryuk blasts it with a black marble and its arm and shoulder spin away.

-113 HP! Critical hit!

Tamana brandishes her sword and finishes the job; its head goes bouncing as its zom-buddy staggers in behind it. Tamana splits this one from crown to crotch. “They’re not that fast!” She says as she catches her breath. “But they’re freaky-looking, and they smell worse than Hiccup!”

“I heard that!” The goblin brings his ax down onto the first head Tamana cut off.

A group of shuffling horrors close in on them; Zaena draws all four swords, wades into them and sets zombie heads a-flyin’. “I’ve actually dealt with this before,” she calls over to them, “in one of the boroughs of Athos. Listen, do not get bitten or scratched or splattered with any body fluids. If anyone turns, we’ll have to kill you. I’m looking at you, goblin.”

“I have a name!”

“Yes, and it will be Zombie Snacks if you don’t stay focused.”

A former Kayian townie with arms outstretched and raw, red, gaping wounds where his face used to be zeros in on FeeTwix, who brains him with one shot. “Sweet! Less firearm damage! In that case … ”

The M-4 goes back to inventory and he produces a classic SPAS-12. His eyes flash black and he announces to his viewers. “Hey there sports fans! We’re here in the formerly scenic city of Kayi after visiting a Merchant of Doom in Aramis. For all of those fans of my Dead City feed, you’ll especially love this! Also … ”

Three more zombies take notice and bolt towards the Mitherfickers. Zaena dispatches one. BOOM! BOOM! FeeTwix levels the other two with the SPAS-12.

“Active gamers and fans o’ FeeTwix, when you’re going at it hot and heavy, Old Spice Degree & Hammer is just what you need to kick ass, take names, and not let your funk spoil your fun!”

He continues the ad read as he charges at a zombie orc that has smashed out of the window of a small bodega. “Try the newest OSD&H fragrances! Hill Country Bluebonnet and Sweet Honey Hickory Grill are both inspired by the sweet scents of the semi-autonomous state of Texas. And speaking of Texas, American friends do I have a deal for you!” He shoulder rolls, leaps, and blasts a junior zombie in half, then stomps its skull. “Mention #FeeTwixRox at checkout and get sample-sized Huntsville Old Sparky Bubba Yum shampoo and Beaumont Bad Booty Bodywash absolutely free! Terms and conditions apply.”

A zombie swipes at FeeTwix mid-spiel, and he narrowly avoids the creature’s splintered fingernails.

With the speed of a hyperactive cheetah, Zaena swoops in, beheads the creature, grabs the Swede by his tactical vest and pulls him up on tippy-toes for a kiss. A zombie family of three slouch and moan their way in; FeeTwix opens an eye, one-hands the assault shotgun, and puts the trio out of their misery before kissing her again.

“Get a fickin’ room, you two!” Hiccup grumbles as the two lovebirds kill their way north. “That guy would rent his dick to an STD if he thought there were rupees in it for him!” An orc zombie nearly three times the goblin’s size approaches from his left. With a step, turn, and spin Hiccup cleaves the zomb-orc’s skull from ear to ear, wrenches his axe free and is instantly awarded one hundred rupees. “Yo-ho! These bastards are rich!” he tells Ryuk, who’s just exploded another zombie’s noggin.

“It’s your new helmet,” Tamana reminds him. “It increased your LUCK!” A zombie orc lurches into range, she swings her airplane wing of a sword in a figure eight and takes both its arms off. She follows through with a swing for the fence and takes Mr. Zombie’s head clean off. She’s awarded a level up. “Yes!”

Hiccup touches the helm with its two little horns. “I forgot I was wearing this!” An idea comes to him and a sly smile spreads across his face. “Hey you guys! Why are we hacking zombies when we could be pillaging? Twixy and Liz can keep ‘em off our backs while us three scoot and loot!”

He’s off faster than a fish can fart; Ryuk and Tamana both roll their eyes and shake their heads.

“Well?” She wipes blood from her blade onto the tunic of the orc zombie at her feet.

“Let’s follow him. He’s going to get his ass turned into a zombie and when he does,” Ryuk’s eyes narrow, “I get to be the one that kills him.”

She laughs. “I don’t know how you could have changed so much in such a short amount of time, but you have. Quick, before we lose him!”

Ryuk and Tamana chase Hiccup down a wide lane that leads to a cluster of shops and dwellings that have not withstood the siege. Debris litters the street; heaps of truly dead zombies surround smashed doors and windows in mute testimony to more than one desperate last stand. Some of the buildings have been reduced to charred wreckage; others still burn unchecked.

Hiccup races by, seemingly untouched by the slaughter and devastation.

“Hold on!” Tamana slows in front of an armored and helmeted ASF trooper crouching over a similarly accoutered companion, who rests in a puddle of gore.

“Can we help you? Are you injured?” She asks as she moves closer.

The crouching trooper turns and snarls at them. One eye is gone; his exposed teeth chomp at bits of tissue and viscera that hang from his mouth. His companion’s chest cavity has been scooped out like a soft boiled egg. Tamana shrieks, hacks him in half with her oversized sword, and rapidly back pedals.

-68 HP!

The undead security officer moans and twitches and drags his upper half after her as Ryuk swaps out magazines and loads up with knife marbles. Even at close range, it takes three shots to penetrate the zombie’s ASF helmet and put him away.

Level up!

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 9 Ballistics Mage

HP: 291/291

ATK: 76

MATK: 97

DEF: 58

MDF: 39

LUCK: 10

New marble acquired! Molten marbles contain a fiery lava core that spreads when the marble strikes the target. BONUS! Molten marbles can also be used for cooking and keeping warm.

“I got a new marble!” Ryuk tells Tamana. A pouch appears on his belt and he retrieves one of the smoky black marbles, which is warmed by a fiery red core. “Cover me while I load up a mag.”

They crouch behind a partially crumbled wall. Ryuk strips out the knife marbles and refills the magazine with his latest acquisition as Tamana keeps watch.

“See any zombies?” he asks her.

“Two approaching from your left.”

“Got it!” Ryuk braces his arms across the top of the wall, and almost before he even thinks about firing, the two orc zombies burst into flames.

-75 HP! -73 HP!

Tamana laughs with sheer delight. “That’s an awesome marble! I … ” She turns to Ryuk and he sees the happiness in her eyes. “I know it hasn’t been very long, but I really really missed this. Missed us, and I am so glad, so very glad, to be back with you.” She sighs, hesitates. “I only wish we had spent more time together up there, in the real world.”

“We have this world, Tritania,” Ryuk tells her. “I’ll be an RPC here sooner or later, and I swear, Tamana, I will be here every day until then.”

She casts her eyes down. The moment is theirs, even amidst the terror and despair that has washed over the village. “You don’t have to.”

“We can explore other worlds as well. I’m sure that there is a way to do so. And I know I don’t have to; I want to. I’ve never known what it is like to lose someone. I’ve been so caught up in finding you that now that I’ve found you, I’m just … I can’t express how I feel at the moment.” He bows his head to her in shame.

She moves closer to him. Ryuk picks off an incoming geriatric zombie; it bursts into flames and collapses to the cobblestones. It writhes, twitches, and sizzles as the molten lava consumes it.

A door kicks off its hinges and Hiccup exits with his plunder.

Golden necklaces set with rubies and sapphires dangle from the goat horns on his helmet; strings of pearls adorn his neck. He clutches golden goblets, silver tableware, sacks of rupees, jewelry boxes, a platinum samovar, and a thick stack of back issues of Goblin Holes scrollazines. “What?” he asks as he sends the items to inventory, “the place was abandoned!”

Tamana’s eyes narrow as she gives Hiccup a disapproving look. “You really shouldn’t steal other people’s stuff, you know.”

“Well, it’d be pretty fickin’ pointless to steal my own stuff, wouldn’t it? Look Little Tammy Trueheart, if I don’t steal it, somebody else will, or it’ll just go to waste, so it might just as well be me in the first place. We good?”

Tamana is not good, but says nothing. Hiccup takes her silence for acquiescence.

“So who’s down for stealing, I mean looting, I mean borrowing, our way back to the other two?” He lifts his snout into the air. “I believe they’re that way.”

“You can smell them?” Now it’s Ryuk’s turn to be skeptical. A zombified female orc spills over the wall and lands right in front of them. Hiccup brings his ax down onto her skull before she can get to her feet.

Instakill!

“Damn skippy that was an Instakill, and damn skippy I can smell the lizard queen from a kilometer away! Hell, my goblin organ of olfaction is so sensitive that I can even smell FeeTwix’s snake oil social media bullshit too. ”

He jerks his ax out of the back of the orc’s head and gives her a kick, just because. “Get a load of this one. I’m telling you guys, some of these zombie orcs look suspiciously like the hookers – I mean sexual surrogate specialists – that I spent quality healing time with back in Sotla. Methinks the Sage is doing a bit of recycling. But, no matter, who’s down for some more plundering and pillaging, in that order? There are a couple of good-sized homes with the doors hanging open and a bunch of shops with the windows broken out over yonder. You two in? Let the ransacking commence!”

Ryuk looks to Tamana and shrugs.

He generally plays it safe in life, which has translated somewhat to the way he plays the game. However, as soon as he started changing things up, his luck changed for the better and now he’s here, with Tamana.

By emphasizing the differences between who he was and what was holding him back, he discovered a new mode of being. The new oblique quote from Hajime comes to him: Faced with a choice, do both, which he takes in this situation to mean: loot and save the day.

Side Quest: Will you join Hiccup as he loots his way to FeeTwix and Zaena?

Rewards: Treasure and experience points.

Risks: You’ll encounter an ASF patrol, and you and your party will be fined and incarcerated.

“Let’s see what we can find,” Ryuk finally says, “but let’s keep a low profile.”

“Thata boy, Marbles!” Hiccup claps him on the elbow. “I see many kids in your future with the nuts you’re sprouting – many, many kids.”

(0)__(0)

“There’s the one.” Hiccup points at three-story white house situated behind a fence tipped with sharpened fleur-de-lis. A sign across the front gate reads The Bannons. The gate hangs open and immobile zombie corpses litter the yard, interspersed with the partially eaten remains of their victims – another last stand that didn’t end well for somebody.

Cries in the distance catch Ryuk’s attention. “We really should do what we came here to do, and quickly.”

“That’s what we’re doing!” Hiccup assures him. “Come on kid, you wanna get the cooter, then you gotta be the looter – and hey you even got a shooter. I’ll bet that’d suit ‘er. Ha! I kill myself sometimes.”

Ryuk glances to Tamana and she looks away, her cheeks suddenly red. “I’m not trying to impress her,” he mumbles under his breath.

FeeTwix: Where the fickity fick are you guys? We’re knee deep in some shit over here!

Hiccup: That’s your own damn fault! And stop stealing my lines!

Ryuk: What do you mean by ‘here’?

FeeTwix: Town square. How long until you get here?

Ryuk: No telling. We’re doing a bit of looting as we make our way to you. Hiccup’s idea.

Hiccup: Damn skippy it was my idea. We’re gonna be rich, boys – rich I tells ya!

FeeTwix: If you see any pretty necklaces, swipe them for me so I can give one to Zaena. And hurry your asses up!

Hiccup: I’ve picked up a couple of pearl necklaces – do you want me to give her one?

FeeTwix:┌∩┐(ಠ_ಠ)┌∩┐

One of the Bannon’s upstairs windows crashes outwards. A zombie with Chiup hog jowls and a face covered in age spots juts his head out and hisses as he clutches at the window frame.

Mr. Race Bannon Level ??

HP: 666/666

ATK: 9

MATK: 23

DEF: 121

MDF: 116

LUCK: 45

“I’ve got this.” Ryuk draws his magic slingshot and places a molten marble in its pouch. He pulls the bands back and waits for the zombie to frame itself in the window.

His perfectly placed shot smashes through the undead’s lips and teeth.

-120! Critical hit! Tonsil Shot!

The zombie spouts flame from its eyes, ears, nose and mouth, windmills its arms and topples over backwards. Tendrils of smoke waft from the window, and Ryuk is awarded double EXP.

“Talk about some heartburn!” Hiccup laughs as a store brand SafeKrogerWay healing potion appears in his mechanical hand. “What? It’s prophylactic.”

He chugs it back, wipes his lips, curses the flavor, and smashes the bottle on the ground. Up the front steps he trots, kicks in the unlocked door and goes face first over the threshold when he overbalances. “FICK! … I mean, um, I meant to do that!”

“I’ll cover you,” Ryuk tells Tamana.

She keeps her buster sword at the ready and stumbles when she accidentally digs it into the doorframe. With a sheepish grin on her face, Tamana yanks her sword free and blows a strand of white hair out of her eyes. Ryuk enters, his marble gun at the ready, the rest of his magazine of molten marbles still in the weapon.

“All righty then,” Hiccup says once everyone is in the foyer, “We need to make this quick and dirty.” The inside is a shambles. Furniture is smashed and overturned, clothes and possessions are littered about, and smears of gore are everywhere. The air is heavy with the smell of blood, ripped bowels, and decomposing zombie flesh.

Tamana gasps. “It’s like a bad American horror movie in here.”

“It’s not that much worse than Jatla, really,” Ryuk reminds her.

Her face contorts as she considers for a moment. Finally, she nods.

“I’m pretty sure the way we want to go is down.” Hiccups points beneath his feet and stomps the floor, just in case they’re unclear as to where ‘down’ is. “Also these one percenters keep their best shit down below. Anyone see a door?”

“Um … ” Tamana takes a quick look around, smacks her buster sword against an end table and sends a Naklin vase filled with Kadupuls to the ground. The three jump when it shatters, and Hiccup expresses his gaseous disapproval.

“Holy flying fick, Tammy, you’re killing us here!” He rattles his ax at her. “Why don’t you just equip an accordion, bagpipes, and glockenspiel and have your own Loud Lives Matter parade!”

“Sorry.” She bows and scuffs her toe in front of her. “Sorry again.”

A muffled cry for help comes from a coat closet.

“Probably just women or children. Ignore them,” Hiccup examines a few of the busts in the foyer that haven’t been toppled over. “Come on, rich people, where’s your secret switcheroo?”

He stops in front of a bust of a bad tempered, disgruntled, disgusted, dyspeptic looking fat guy. “This must be the fat rat bastard you popped in the pie hole.” He strokes the bust’s head with his mechanical hand and puts a finger in each nostril, prods and twists.

Thumping and more muffled cries makes Tamana to turn to Ryuk. “There are people in there,” she whispers. “We have to help them.”

Again, Hajime’s quote, comes to him – do both. Ryuk steps forward. “Hiccup, we’re going to go help those people.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever – you get after it, Do-right,” the goblin says as flicks his finger at the statue’s lip. “Just be sure to clear the rest of the house first, and if you run into trouble, deal with it and I’ll call you when I need you.”

“I’ll open it, you keep your gun ready,” Tamana whispers to Ryuk as they approach the closet.

“Got it.” He holds his marble gun at chest level as Tamana opens the door.

“Don’t hurt us!”

Ryuk immediately holsters his weapon when he sees a pair of gnomes cowering in the jacket closet. The male gnome’s salt and pepper beard stretches well past his belly; his forearms are prominently tattooed with otherworldly script. His female companion’s gray hair is pulled into a tight bun and secured with a pair of knitting needles. Their footgear is scuffed and torn and worn, and they both sport a heavy brass anklet. Most noticeably, they’re missing their pointy red hats.

The gnomette flings herself forward and wraps her arms around Ryuk’s waist. “You saved us!” Tears of joy stream down her wrinkled face as she looks up at him. “It was terrible! Awful! Horrible! Terrible!”

“Don’t hug him, Chantrea! He could still kill you!” The male gnome brandishes a pair of pruning shears in a most unconvincing and half-hearted manner.

“Please,” Ryuk tells him, “we’re not going to kill you.”

If we were, you’d already be dead, he thinks.

Tamana smiles at the pair as a sudden realization spreads across her face. “You two are from Unigaea, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?” Chantrea asks.

“The tattoos on his arms. That’s the script they used in that world, isn’t it?”

Ryuk has seen the Thai-inspired script before burned across the chest of a mysterious warrior they once encountered in Ultima Thule. Unigaea was a VMMORPG world that was popular for a brief spell in the 2060s until a disgruntled player with a source code bomb destroyed it; those few NPCs that escaped became refugees in Tritania.

“It is,” the male gnome steps forward and offers his hand to Ryuk. “The name is Arun, and this is my wife, Chantrea.”

Hiccup bellows from the other room. “Yo-Ho, treasure enthusiasts! Hot ficks, I figured it out! Never mind your do-goodery. I need back up, so get your asses in here!”

Arun lowers his bushy brows and scowls. “You’ve brought a goblin with you?”

“Um … ” Ryuk scratches the back of his head. “Actually, he brought us.”

“So you’re here for the treasure in the family crypt then, aren’t you?”

“It wasn’t our original reason to come here to Kayi. We’re actually here to hunt zombies.” He looks to Tamana and shrugs. “Somehow, we’ve ended up as looters.”

“C’mon you two – chop-chop! We got stuff to steal! Let’s fickin’ go!”

Arun straightens his back and puffs out his chest. “Then let us help you. Mr. Bannon and his atrocious twin daughters have been the bane of our existence for years!”

“Honey … ” Chantrea places her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t say things like that. The twins weren’t too bad.”

“Not too bad? They took away our pointy felt hats! And look at this!” He gestures to the brass band around his ankle. “If either of us leaves the property without their permission we will be permanently deleted and they’re the ones that set up the magic! I know what I am,” Arun says, “and by permanently deleted I mean just that – these bracelets put a kink in our D-NAS that will force an auto-delete function.”

“That’s awful,” Tamana empathizes.

“And as you can see,” Arun glowers at the ankle cuff, “whatever type of magic this is, it is still in effect.”

“You two had better not be dead … ah, fick!” Hiccup joins the two and rolls his eyes when he sees the gnomes. “We’re not here on a rescue mission. Sorry, gnomes, you’re on your own.”

“You’ve already rescued us,” Arun tells him, “at least your friends have, goblin. We want to help you now.”

“Help us?” Hiccup raises an eyebrow at the gnome. “And the name is Hiccup.”

“Are you sure, Arun?” his wife asks. “Are you sure we should help them?”

The stout gnome gives the three Mitherfickers a determined nod. “I know where the treasure is. Follow me!”

(0)__(x)

“I already know the way,” Hiccup informs the group as they pass into the foyer. “So save the tour guide shit.”

Arun gives the goblin a curt shake of the head. “No, no you don’t. You’ve found the booby trapped passage that you’re supposed to find, the one that leads straight to your gruesome, violent, painful death. The non-booby trapped passage that leads to the treasure is through the pantry.” The gnome gently takes his wife’s elbow and guides her around the busts that Hiccup knocked over.

“As long as there’s treasure, and as long as you know where the fickin’ treasure is, you’re in charge, pops.”

Ryuk holds back for a moment to let the others pass. He takes a breath, and his Extreme Focus and Magic Eye skills reveal a soft yellow magic that filters from the entrance that Hiccup discovered.

His marble gun at the ready, he follows Tamana into the kitchen, which looks like a whirling herd of cartoon Tasmanian Devils has been through it. All the drawers have been stripped from the cupboards and scattered glassware and ceramic shards litter the floor.

Arun stops in front of the pantry door. “It’s been hell, that’s for sure,” he says as he opens the door.

A wave of stench and funk roll out to greet him; he screams like a sissy when the orc zombie stumbles out and reaches for him. Hiccup shrieks “Oh FICK!” and releases a cloud of stench and funk all his own.

“Move, Move, MOVE!” Tamana shouts as she swings the buster sword and hacks the pantry door, doorframe, and orc zombie in half.

-58 HP! Critical hit!

The upper half of the zombie lands face up and it tilts its head to keep them in view as it scrabbles for traction with clawed hands. Tamana chops its head free and drives her oversized blade through the bridge of its nose.

Instakill!

A wide eyed Hiccup turns to the two resetters. “Hey – Marbles, Tammy. What part of ‘clear the rest of the house first’ did you fail to understand?”

“Don’t be too harsh with them,” Arun pipes up. “They were rescuing us!”

“Fickin’ amateur hour,” Hiccup mumbles under his breath.

Chantrea places the back of her hand against her head as if to faint. “Please, please remove it,” she asks meekly. “I can’t look!”

“Relax, dear, I’ll handle it.” Arun grabs the orc zombie’s lower half by its wolf leather boots and gives it an ineffectual tug. “A little help for the gnome, maybe?” Ryuk joins him and they drag the body out of the way and pile the top half next to it. Hiccup boots the head out through the entryway.

“Right,” says Arun, “and thank you,” he tells the three Mitherfickers. “The lighting is poor in the pantry, so we’ll need to grab a lantern. Chantrea?”

“I always keep a spare one here.” She produces one from a lower cabinet, snaps her fingers and the lantern sparks to life.

“Come in then.” Arun lets the three enter, followed by his wife. He closes the door as he steps in last and points at a stack of barrels. “The middle one is the door.” He removes the bung, inserts two fingers and pushes. The barrel clamshells open to reveal a flight of stairs. “The family crypt is at the bottom.”

“And the treasure?” Hiccup rubs his paws together.

“It’s in the crypt, you’ll see it. We’ll wait up here for you.”

Hiccup points his ax at the gnome couple. “The fick you will. I’ll tell you what, you two go down there with us just to be sure that there’s no funny stuff.”

“Funny stuff?”

“Yeah – ambushes, booby traps, clown zombies – that type of thing. Funny stuff.”

“Fine,” Arun huffs, “but I will not be the first one to enter.”

“And you won’t be the last either, that will be Marbles over there. Kid, keep your weapon on these two as we descend.”

Ryuk raises his marble gun. “Got it.” He catches a side glance from Tamana and gives her a quick shrug.

The five take the stairs, Ryuk in the rear. Nothing is said as they enter into a cool room with a low ceiling. Chantrea’s lantern does little to fully light the space, leaving the edges crosshatched with darkness. A sickly sweet odor hangs in the air.

“It’s like the catacombs under Polynya,” Tamana says as they take another flight of stairs.

“That’s what it was designed after,” says Arun, “the Bannons were a powerful and influential family at Empress Thun’s court, but there were allegations of shady dealings and consorting with anti-imperial elements and hanging around with that that vile Dirty Dave character.”

“Hey, Dirty Dave is just a very successful business entity!” Hiccup reminds everyone.

“Was there a Mrs. Bannon?” Tamana’s oversized surfboard of a sword clangs against the wall, and badly startles Hiccup.

“Dragon ficks!” the goblin calls over his shoulder. “Either be more careful or put that fickin’ thing away! This place already has my gob-sphincter clenched!”

“Sorry.” She bows her head to him as she follows closely behind.

Arun pipes up, “There were several Mrs. Bannons. I think there were ... five?”

“Six,” Chantrea corrects her husband. “And an equal number of mistresses. But as of three weeks ago, there hasn’t been a Mrs. Bannon, nor a mistress.”

“Just to be sure, is Mr. Bannon a fat, ugly fick who looks like the mutant love child of an inbred radioactive orc and a rabid Chiup hog with chiggers?” Hiccup asks.

Arun snorts. “I haven’t heard him described that way before, but yes, I do believe that’s him, goblin.”

“Well, don’t need to worry about that ficker anymore. Marbles back there roasted that little piggy from the inside. And the name is Hiccup!”

The five enter into a corridor that stretches beyond the circle of light from Chantrea’s lantern. “This is it,” she says, “the family crypt.” She steps away from the foot of the stairs, stubs her toe, trips, and drops the lantern.

Velvety blackness envelops them.

Ryuk’s Extreme Focus kicks in; at the far end of the crypt he can just make out the faintest outline of two bodies, one of which has an aura of dark blue magic. He fires two molten marbles that strike about halfway to the approaching silhouettes.

Chantrea shrieks as the bright white light from the marbles illuminates the two approaching figures. “Kelly? Anne? Please tell me it isn’t so!”

Two emaciated zombies slowly step into the light. Their faces are drawn and pinched, their eyes have dried and shriveled, black dried blood rims their mouths and only a few tufts of straggly bleached blonde hair are still attached to their skulls.

Chantrea moans and covers her eyes. “My poor, poor girls!”

Hiccup snorts. “Fick me to tears, look at these two! Let’s give ‘em the chop and be done with it. There’s booty to loot-y!”

Kelly Bannon Level 10

HP: 613/613

ATK: 99

MATK: 13

DEF: 58

MDF: 64

LUCK: 8

Kelly extends her arms, hisses, and throws herself at Hiccup. He curses, spins aside, swings his ax and slices her arm off.

-100 HP!

Zombie Anne snags Kelly’s flailing arm out of the air. She makes a hoarse barking sound, and Kelly returns to her side.

“Oh, FICK, they’re not supposed to do that shit!”

“Get behind us,” Tamana tells the two gnomes, who are rooted to the spot and show no sign of complying. She keeps one eye on the two zombie sisters while she herds the two gnomes behind Hiccup. With his marble gun still trained on Kelly, Ryuk takes a quick look at Anne’s stats for any clues.

Anne Bannon Level 11

HP: 628/628

MANA: 298/298

ATK: 21

MATK: 119

DEF: 36

MDF: 94

LUCK: 12

She has the stats of some sort of mage …

Anne slaps her sister’s arm back on her stump. A dark blue bubbling of energy moves over Kelly’s shoulder and the arm reattaches. Anne turns to Ryuk and offers him a wicked smile.

He unloads on her, and she deflects his marbles with casual arrogance.

“Anne is self-aware! She’s defending herself – real zombies don’t do that!”

“What?” Tamana gasps and tightens her grip on her sword.

Zombie Kelly’s shuffling charge gives Tamana ample time to swing her giant sword and hack her head off. It hits the floor, bounces once, and Ryuk incinerates it with a molten marble.

Instakill!

Level up!

Ryuk moves up one level, Tamana two, but both of them are too distracted by Anne to check their stats.

Dark blue necrotic magic ripples around Anne’s arms and legs; Hiccup lifts his shield and clashes his ax against it. “Well, you two got her good and pissed by killing her sis. Let’s finish this!”

(x)__(x)

A blast of dark blue energy washes over Hiccup’s shield. He drops it and curses as it blackens, shrivels, and disintegrates into dust. “Fick! That was Cousin Spew’s second-favorite shield!” With a flick of his wrist he launches a tomahawk and she zaps it to dust.

Anne marshals her energy and releases a blast that strikes all five of them.

-80 HP!

The gnomes shriek in dismay; Chantrea starts praying in some unintelligible language.

“I’ve got this.” Tamana grips her sword in both hands and strikes it against the ground. A nimbus of blinding white energy envelops the blade. She winds up, swings, and hurls the brilliant ball of incandescence at the un-zombie.

Anne defends with a shield of necrotic energy, but Tamana’s attack is too strong, too bright.

-183 HP!

Bright light burns all around the zombie mage, but she recovers quickly, snarls as she charges more necrotic energy.

“Fick yeah, Tammy! Jolt her ass again!”

Tamana releases another bolt of blazing white energy.

-221 HP! Critical hit!

This one causes even more damage, and Ryuk doesn’t need the CliffsNotes to tell him that the Zombie Anne is susceptible to white magic. He holsters his marble gun, retrieves his slingshot, and fires a clear marble as he shouts, “Healing Light!”

The marble connects and Anne turns bright orange. She coughs and a burst of flames comes out of her mangled maw. She coughs again, exhales deeply as she comes to understand her new fire-breathing ability.

Anne turns to the three.

Fuck! Simple Request didn’t work!

A wall of hellfire scorches out of her mouth and blasts over them. Ryuk’s vision pane flashes red.

- 90 HP!

“For fick’s sake, Marbles!” Hiccup uses his mechanical hand to bat a fire out on his leg.

“I’ll fix this!” A halo forms around Tamana’s head, and twinkling blips of white light heals the three Mitherfickers and the gnomes.

+55 HP!

The magic dissipates and she returns her free hand to the hilt of her buster sword.

Anne rears back for another blast and Hiccup equips his biggest shield, protecting them from the blazing hellfire. “Someone kill this be-yotch already!”

Ryuk pops up and zips a clear marble over Hiccup’s head. “Healing Light!”

A Simple Request!

-190 HP!

An arc of pure light cuts the zombie teen down; Hiccup casts his shield aside and pitches another tomahawk.

-34 HP!

As undead Anne struggles to pull the tomahawk out of her forehead, Tamana darts in and neatly decapitates her.

Instakill!

Level up!

Tamana leans on her sword and exhales loudly. “Whew!” EXP is doled out and everyone gains yet another level thanks to Dirty Dave’s magic.

“Shit, that was a lot of assfickery just to get some treasure.”

The cantankerous goblin approaches Anne’s decapitated head and nudges it with his boot. “Nope, not gonna make a necrophilia joke,” he mutters under his breath, “not today, anyway.” He brings his ax down onto the head, splitting it in two. “Well? Let’s get the treasure and get the fick out of here. This was supposed to be a fickin’ side quest, not an entire adventure unto itself.”

As Ryuk reholsters his slingshot, he catches some murmuring over his shoulder. Arun is comforting his wife, who is upset and distraught by what’s transpired. Tamana slips her buster sword into its sheath and approaches Chantrea.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks the gnomette.

“I’ll … ” the granny gnome wipes her nose on her rag of a dress. “I’ll be fine. Just a little shaken up. They, well, Anne, wanted to kill us – us! Can you believe that?” she asks Arun.

“No,” he mumbles, but the serious look in his eyes says differently. “But let’s focus on what’s important right now. Did you feel it?” He shows her his ankles. “The cuffs are gone!”

“They ...  ” She lifts her dress and examines her ankles. “They’re gone!”

“We can leave; we can go anywhere, anywhere, Chantrea!”

FeeTwix: What is taking you guys so long!?

Ryuk: Sorry! Zombie and looting issues. Coming now.

He makes the ‘let’s wrap it up’ gesture to Hiccup, who gives Ryuk the thumbs up.

“We have to join our friends and finish off the zombies outside,” Ryuk announces.

“What Marbles means is take us to the treasure now.”

“You stay here,” Arun tells his wife.

“I’ll stay with her,” Tamana says.

“But before we go … ” Arun unclasps a necklace from around his neck and hands it to Ryuk. A small silver circlet formed of superimposed characters hangs from a fine silver chain. “This necklace and pendant was made in Unigaea by Olivas, the renowned master silversmith.”

“Thank you so much,” Ryuk says with a bow.

“Yes, thank you.” Tamana chimes in.

Before Ryuk can examine the necklace, Hiccup is on him like rats on rice.

“Oooo! Shiny!” He snatches the necklace in a blur of motion. “I’ll just hold onto that.” He chortles as he sends it to inventory.

Ryuk bristles but says nothing.

“What? It’s for Twixy to give Liz. I’m just an old romantic at heart!”

Arun steps in front of the two and waves them forward. “Please, follow me.”

Once they reach the far end of crypt, the gnome gingerly kicks his tattered footwear against the thick wooden door. He fumbles around in his tunic for a moment and produces a key. “It’s not as easy as it seems,” Arun says as he starts fiddling with the lock, the face of which is shaped like a lion.

“I think I could have cracked that,” says Hiccup.

The gnome sighs. “This lock would have cracked you. Only authorized users can open it; if you tried, the lion face would have grown to full size and devoured you whole. I watched it happen once. I came down just in time to see it slurp up what was left of the thief. Some hobbit named Dildo Bugger or something.” The lock pops open and Arun waves them in. “Follow me.”

The three enter a small, low-ceilinged room that forces Ryuk to crouch and bend his neck. Directly in front of them are two trunk-sized treasure boxes.

“Now these I can crack!”

“Not so fast, goblin.” Arun points to the chest on the left. “This one must be opened first. There’s nothing inside, but if you open the other one first, you and anyone in your party will die instantly. It’s a pretty powerful algospell; Mr. Bannon paid a dark mage in Valhalla a small fortune to create it.”

“I was going to choose one on the left anyway.” Hiccup grumbles. He pops open the left chest and smoky red magic, thick as a river of blood slithers out forming a dragon’s head. It slides around the room, stops to examine the three men and turns to the exit.

Ryuk returns his focus to the chests. “And Mr. Bannon told you all this, about the trap?”

“I was the one who arranged the creation of the chest,” he explains. “He was banned from the city of Porthos, as I told you, and he sent me there to have them made. The lion lock and the key too.”

“Why did you have a copy made?” Ryuk asks.

Arun chews on his lip for a moment. “I knew my wife and I couldn’t escape, but I figured we could one day use it as collateral.”

“Do you know what’s inside?” Hiccup asks.

Arun places his hand on the closed chest. “Now that I don’t know,” he says nervously. “I do know that Mr. Bannon was fond of collecting rare things.”

“Well, do you think it’s a trap?”

Arun shrugs.

“Whelp, today is an especially auspicious day to die.” Hiccup throws the chest open. Light blazes out of the chest and Ryuk steps up for a better look.

“Fick! What the hell are we going to do with this thing?” Hiccup finally asks. “More importantly, why couldn’t I smell it?”

Chapter 24: An egg for another day

Ryuk, Hiccup, and Tamana stand in front of the Bannons’ toppled gate. There’s moisture in the air and a thick, gray fog has settled over the smoldering village of Kayi. Every now and then, he hears an occasional scream or a desperate shout, but there are considerably fewer than there were when the Mitherfickers first arrived.

“Are you sure we don’t have time to hit any of the other McMansions?” Hiccup asks. “That, was most definitely not the type of treasure I was expecting. I’d see my aromachologist, but I’m pretty sure the dismal health plan coverage offered by our guild doesn’t have anyone in network, and if they did, the fickin’ deductible is so high that I’d probably have to rob the place after I got my prescription.”

“You never shut up, do you?” Tamana asks playfully.

The goblin lifts his helm and runs his mechanical hand through his tufty pink topknot. “I’m a think-out-loud type of goblin, like my father before me and my grandfather before him. Boy, those two never fickin’ shut up. But seriously, I should have smelled it.”

Ryuk opens the Guu-Chee tote bag given to him by Chantrea and once again examines the egg. The size of a soccer ball but oblong, the egg is dark purple with icy blue veins spiraling around it.

“We can deal with the egg later,” Tamana tells Ryuk, “let’s get to the others.”

The egg and the tote dematerialize and appear in Ryuk’s inventory list. While his deet screen is up, he quickly checks the guild’s levels to find that FeeTwix and Zaena have really cleaned up while the three of them were off treasure hunting.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 11 Ballistics Mage

HP: 270/350

ATK: 87

MATK: 111

DEF: 67

MDF: 43

LUCK: 10

FeeTwix Fajer Level 15 Berserker Mystic

HP: 228/539

ATK: 119

MATK: 28

DEF: 74

MDF: 38

LUCK: 13

Hiccup Level 11 Shield Thief

HP: 453/475

ATK: 73

MATK: 13

DEF: 141

MDF: 68

LUCK: 24

Zaena Morozon Level 14 Brawler Assassin

HP: 365/489

ATK: 135

MATK: 8

DEF: 90

MDF: 26

LUCK: 14

Tamana Nakamura Level 6 White Warrior

HP: 186/252

MANA: 105/119

ATK: 68

MATK: 12

DEF: 49

MDF: 93

LUCK: 3

“I just can’t believe that I couldn’t smell the dragon egg,” Hiccup waves his hand over his shoulder at the two gnomes, who now peer at them from the window in the parlor. “And these two gnomes … you’d fickin’ think that they’d blow that popsicle stand first thing and be over the horizon toot sweet, but no, Goblinholm Syndrome is a real thing, and these two plan to keep the place up and wait for their masters to respawn, which they will in a couple of days after their avatars wait out the zombie penalty.”

A thought dawns on him. “Or-r-r-r they’re going to fickin’ steal everything that ain’t too hot or too heavy to lug off!” He peers back at them and gives them a big grin and a thumbs up. Arun responds in kind. “Those slick mitherfickers,” the goblins says under his breath.

Hiccup takes the lead and Tamana follows behind as Ryuk reloads his magazines. A mag full of molten marbles was a good thing, and a combo of marbles may be even better. He loads two magazines with alternating black and molten marbles, another with strictly molten marbles, and another one with knife marbles. He fills the last one with clear marbles – his wild card mag.

“I meant to compliment you on the marble gun,” Tamana says, “it is very, very cool, especially after seeing it in action.”

“I’m starting to like being a Ballistics Mage,” he admits. “It was challenging at first, but with this weapon and some of my new skills, it isn’t as bad as I originally thought it would be.”

“See? Like I told you, being a resetter isn’t as bad as you think.” She casts her eyes down. “Well, I guess that is debatable.”

“Woe-is-me and Boo-Fickin’ Hoo,” says Hiccup, “think of it this way, Tammy, now, you’re like me and you don’t have to deal with real world shit. Job, school, taxes, et cetera.”

“But you have to deal with all those things in here,” she reminds him as they pass the law office of Sloon Olson Nolos and Associates, which is on the outskirts of the town square.

“Job? Pfft! What job? You mean being a guildhall security guard? That’s the easiest job I’ve ever had. Hell, half the time I’m gob-napping or checking out the latest issues of Goblin Holes. School? Yeah, but just Thulean grammar school, which was a breeze. Teacher was hot as fick too. Taxes? Like I pay those. You have to pay me for me to pay taxes. Speaking of which, where’s my four percent?”

“You spent it in Sotla,” Ryuk tells him. “And it’s two percent.”

“I thought it was three … ”

The sounds of zombies moaning, followed by the percussive utterances of a submachine gun echo down the street.

“That bloody Swede and his alien weapons,” Hiccup comments, “just kidding, the faster we kill the zulus, the faster we can get back to Aramis and get those nuru massages I was telling you about.”

“The … what massages?” Ryuk knows exactly what a nuru massage is and he’s surprised to hear Hiccup call it by name.

“I knew that would catch your attention! Kid, I know killing zomb-orcs is fun and all, but when you’re ready to let your hair down and see the other side of orcs, or the underside of orcs if you get my drift … ” He catches up to Ryuk and nudges him with his mechanical arm.

An ASF zombie limps from an alley towards the three. A naked one-armed female orc zombie is right behind him.

The black marble takes the fem-orc’s head right off.

Instakill!

Tamana has room to swing her ironing board sword and executes a very flashy spin-twirl-swoop-and-chop. The ASF zombie collapses in a well-partitioned heap; his detached head still glowers and grimaces even as she gives it the final chop.

At the end of the street, Zaena wields her four blades like she’s both pairs in a doubles sabre fencing tournament. The undead are stacked around her in her own impromptu Hesco barrier.

“Come on!” he tells the others, as he leads the charge. The shuffling dead claw their way up the corpse pile, and Zaena neatly lops heads as they stick them up. Ryuk unloads the magazine of black marbles and thins the crowd around her.

“Ryuk,” she smiles as he joins her. With a flick of her wrists, she decapitates the next clambering corpse.

He’s about to ask where FeeTwix is when the ripping snarl of a minigun moots his question. The Swede has a six-pack’s worth of empty, store brand healing potion bottles at his feet, and he sips yet another as he unleashes a storm of supersonic metal at an approaching cluster of the living impaired. -86 HP! -75 HP! -30 HP! -9 HP! An unmanned minigun mounted on a tripod fires short, economical bursts as it covers their backs.

“He called it a remote sentry weapon system,” Zaena explains, slightly out of breath. “It is triggered by movement. I dislike many of the alien weapons he has brought to our world, but that one has been most useful.”

“Liz!” Hiccup cries as he approaches. “We found one of your cousins.”

Her eyes narrow on the goblin as she says, “Schloni tugtukh.”

“A ghost ficker, eh? Well, hello to you too, darling! Marbles, show her the egg.”

“Watch my back,” Ryuk tells Tamana.

“Did you think I would let you die?” She holds her surfboard-sword at the ready and keeps her eyes on the avenues of approach. The designer tote bag takes shape in Ryuk’s hand, and Zaena gasps when he shows her the contents.

“You found the egg of an ice dragon?”

“Found is … umm, yeah, we found it.”

She touches it. “That’s really what it is! We need to get this to an incubator. We need to … ”

“Incoming!” Tamana steadies her blade.

As Ryuk raises his marble gun a message flashes on his viewing pane. “Fuck,” he gulps. “I need to log out. Now.”

“What is it?”

“Hajime just sent me a message.”

“And?”

“My brother is at my place.” Ryuk takes a deep breath.

Concern flashes across Tamana’s eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he assures her as he fires a molten marble at an approaching zombie, “I’ll be back in as soon as I can. For now, I’ll set my avatar to auto-level.” Ryuk lifts his finger and the option menu appears. After a quick bow, he makes the necessary adjustments and logs out.

Chapter 25: Drop in, drop out

Ryuk waits for his haptic chair to power down. As his vision blurs into focus, a bubbly advertisement for Mister Donut plays across his iNet screen. In the ad, a kawaii girl with pigtails and a schoolgirl outfit looks into the holes of a pair of donuts and says something in a high-pitched voice about two-for-one donuts this week only.

He hardly pays attention.

His nerves are jumping and the sense of impending doom relentlessly reverberates through him. Ryuk rubs his eyes and his ears prick up at a conversation in the living room. He’s suddenly hot, his temperature through the roof. Off goes his hooded black sweater, and after he finger combs his hair, he reluctantly exits his safe haven.

“Glad you could join us. Glad I could finally get you out of that stupid fucking game of yours.” Kodai sits on the couch, behind the glass coffee table, sipping from a cup of green tea. Hajime is across from him, in the black sofa chair. No basket hat at the moment – the humandroid has his long hair pulled back into a tight manbun. He looks at Ryuk and smiles calmly.

“Why are you here?” Ryuk’s shoulders tense and he clenches his fists. He relaxes them, but the tension in his shoulders remains.

“Can’t I visit my own brother?” Kodai casually sets his tea down on the coffee table. He leans back for a moment and bares his teeth in a humorless grin.

Ryuk glances to the door. Where’s Gorira? Usually, his brother’s shadow of a henchman is always close by. He yawns and stretches his hands over his head to cover the fact that he’s firing off a message to Hajime.

Ryuk: Where are his men?

Hajime: Outside.

Ryuk: Why is he here?

Hajime: Likely to make a point.

Confidence swells Ryuk’s chest as he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Cut the bullshit, Kodai, what the fuck do you want?”

“I told you,” he grits, “I’m here to see you.”

“You can message me. You don’t need to come here to see me, especially after what you did the other day. It’s 2075, message me.”

“The bruises on your face are healing nicely.” Kodai rests both elbows on his knees and looks up at Ryuk. He admires his handiwork for another moment before saying, “I’ll make a man out of you yet, if I can ever get you to fight back, that is.”

Confidence boils over again as Ryuk hisses, “Try it, bitch.” His fingers tingle now, a sinking feeling in his chest forces him to lower his shoulders. With a deep breath, he pulls his shoulders back and holds them in place. Stay strong.

“Both of you, relax,” Hajime stands. “There is clearly animosity between you two, and threats will do nothing to quell this animosity.”

“Keep your fucking mouth shut, droid!” Kodai snaps.

“Allow me to remind you that my directive is to protect Ryuk, your brother, whom you should not abuse or assault.”

Kodai laughs as he reaches into his jacket pocket. “I’m going to show you both something that you’ll really like.”

“I’m aware that you have a humgun,” Hajime says.

“A humgun?” asks Ryuk. The tone of his voice activates a rapid search on his iNet feed. Pictures of humstunners appear over a brief description: A humgun, humstunner, or humandroid stunner, is a hand-held device which forcibly overrides a humandroid’s auto-reboot protocol. Once so disabled, a humandroid cannot self-reboot and must be taken to an authorized service and repair facility for an externally induced ‘hard’ reboot.

Kodai brandishes a small silver pistol with a bulbous muzzle. “Take your seat,” he directs the humandroid. “Sit on your hands and keep silent. If you interfere, I will disable you and personally see to it that your reboot process includes a personality wipe.”

Hajime steps away from Kodai and takes his seat.

(0)__(0)

“You’re a real piece of shit,” Ryuk bites his lip, surprised that he has the courage to speak.

“Where were we?” Kodai is on his feet now, his humgun still aimed at Hajime. “Let’s have a simple, pleasant conversation, Ryuk, shall we?”

“Just ... Just leave me alone and let me live my life!” He points a shaky finger at his older brother. “Get the fuck out of my apartment and LET ME LIVE MY LIFE!”

Kodai’s dark eyes narrow in on his brother. “You can live your life all you want, as long as you do what I tell you to do and what mother expects of you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Is this about her?” Ryuk shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t you see, Kodai? Can’t you understand what’s going on here? You’ll never be our father and you’ll never be able to run the business as well as he did! You’re her puppet! A fucking puppet!”

“Stay there,” Kodai again motions at Hajime with his weapon, “if you try anything, you’re done.” He steps around the coffee table. The afternoon sun is visible over his shoulder, increasing the length of his shadow. “I’m going to forget what you just said. I’m going to forget how you disrespected me. Consider yourself lucky for this. You really don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Ryuk’s knees feels rubbery and weak, but he manages to take a few steps towards his brother. I will stand my ground, he thinks, I will not let you bully me again, he subvocalizes.

“What was that?” Kodai asks.

“Get the fuck out of my home!” Something odd happens to Ryuk’s pane of vision that reminds him of his Extreme Focus skill in Tritania. The corners dim and he suddenly feels as if he’s looking through Kodai to the coffee table behind him directly at …

Kodai takes a step closer to his younger brother. “Are you challenging me?”

“I’ll tell you one thing you aren’t capable of … ” The words flow out of Ryuk’s mouth, seemingly of their own volition. He closes the distance between them. “You aren’t … aren’t capable of completing college! I know what happened at NYU, you lying sack of shit!”

Kodai is speechless as Ryuk slams both hands against his older brother’s chest, pushing him backwards into the glass coffee table.

The sound of shattering glass and the thud of Kodai hitting the floor loom large in the apartment. Hajime springs to his feet and plucks the humgun from Kodai’s grasp just as the door explodes inward.

Gorira leads the charge gun first, and is quickly met by Hajime, who disarms the man-mountain with insolent ease, spins him to act as a shield, and tucks the muzzle of Gorira’s own gun up under his ear. “Pick up your employer and leave, all of you.” Hajime instructs the other two. “Do it now.”

The two help Kodai up out of the wreckage of the glass coffee table.

Blood dribbles from a gash in his palm and there’s a tear along the sleeve of his Kiton suit jacket. With a wordless cry of rage, he leaps for Ryuk, only to be restrained by his own two men. Kodai screams again, flicks blood on the floor, raises a single finger at his younger brother and grits his teeth as he says, “I won’t forget this! You will never disrespect me again!” He pulls his arm free from his goons and storms into Ryuk’s room.

There is the unmistakable sound of electronic equipment being smashed, and Ryuk knows instantly what Kodai has done.

Ryuk’s legs go wobbly as Kodai steps out of the bedroom.

“Fuck you.” Kodai throws the broken NV Visor into his chest; it bounces off and lands at his feet. “This isn’t over.”

With that, he marches right out the front door, followed by his two thugs. He doesn’t so much as look at Gorira, who is still held by Hajime.

Once Kodai and his posse are out, Hajime releases Gorira but keeps the gun trained on him. “Leave.”

“My gun,” Gorira says.

“Later.” Hajime motions to the door. “Leave now.”

Chapter 26: Kaizen

“Well, that certainly went poorly,” Hajime observes.

Ryuk nods and swallows a breath of what has to be the freshest, most life-sustaining gulp of air he’s ever tasted. His brother’s blood spatters the wall and the carpet here and there; his broken NV Visor is more liberally smeared with it.

“Order another one.” Hajime drops the magazine from Gorira’s hand cannon and places it on a side table, racks the slide and catches the oversized round in mid-air. He examines the humgun for a moment, noting its make and model. “If you order a new visor on Rakuten, it’ll be here within the hour. Your chair will take a day to arrive.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Ryuk manages to say.

A sense of freedom washes over him and for once, he doesn’t feel like logging in. His avatar can handle the zombie battles for now, and he’ll see Tamana soon enough anyway. He should be ordering a new visor, he should be coming down from the adrenaline high, he should be doing something other than standing here, frozen as if he’s been struck in the chest by a time marble.  But as he stands there a thought becomes crystal clear – none of this matters.

Once he is done here, he can spend eternity with Tamana. The real world is irrelevant. His feud with his brother? Pointless. His family business? Immaterial.

But an RPC isn’t really you.

And the cold, hard corollary to that comes to him unbidden – it isn’t really Tamana either.

Ryuk knows this, knows that she is simply a highly complex arrangement of ones and zeroes created by D-NAS, that she is really no more alive than Hajime. But knowing and truly understanding the implications of such a statement are very different things.

He stands in his living room and surveys the chaos before him, as the thoughts come at him a mile-a-minute, Ryuk makes the choice right then to take command of his future. He’ll become an RPC and he’ll live forever that way, but until that day comes he will live without fear or regret. He will seize his own reality in a way he has never contemplated before. He will stand up to Kodai; he will attend the Proxima school that he’s been eyeing for the past year now; he won’t follow in his father’s footsteps, but he will learn about manipulating power.

“I want to keep the gun,” he tells Hajime. “I mean, guns, I want to keep them both.”

“Oh?” Hajime considers this for a moment. “Do you think that when the time comes you will have the resolve to use them?”

“I really don’t know; I just want to feel safe and I don’t want to be a … ” He wants to say ‘target’ but this doesn’t see like the right word. Neither does the word ‘victim’.

Ryuk bites his lip as he takes in the humandroid standing before him. Hajime is calm and collected, as if he’s just woken up from a pleasant nap and is on his way to a meditation class. Meanwhile, he’s on pins and needles, in a weird state of existential self-reflection, sure, but there isn’t much he can verbalize at the moment, which makes it strange that the only request he has is to weapon up.

“I’ve ordered you a replacement visor from Rakuten,” Hajime informs him. “It should be here within the next hour.”

“Are you trying to distract me?” Ryuk asks.

“No, I’m trying to comfort you. If you are interested in the weapons, I will show you how to use them. Are you hungry?”

Ryuk notices the prompt doesn’t have his manga-stylized face in the corner this time, likely because Hajime is trying to be serious. And this is how he shows me? Even amidst the destruction in the room, his existential bullshit, and the adrenaline still pulsing in his veins, Ryuk has to smile. “I’m not hungry.”

“Tea?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you sit?” Hajime suggests. “Not there, at the dining room table. I can tell that you are thinking deeply about something.”

“You can tell, huh?” Ryuk takes a seat at the table. He hears Hajime click on the plastic kettle to boil water for tea and he listens to the water bubble and hiss until Hajime’s hand on his shoulder draws his attention. “I may not be human, but I can ‘sense’ things, if you expand your definition of the word ‘sense’ to mean ‘perceive chemical changes and other indicators of human emotion.’ Whatever is on your mind, let me say this.”

Ryuk looks up at him.

“You did well back there, Ryuk. You stood your ground and finally were able to emphasize the difference between you and your brother, by overcoming your fear of him and being cognizant of your surroundings. Don’t think I didn’t see you quickly glance to the coffee table. Don’t think I didn’t see you approach him in a way that you’d be in a position to push Kodai into it. That took guts, it took cunning – something that you humans have and that I do not fully possess. We humandroids are logical entities that can do many things, but the sort of quick, visceral cunning you exhibited comes only with tens of thousands of years of evolution.”

Hajime pauses to let his words sink in. “But I gave you two quotes to consider, the second being faced with a choice, do both. This lesson is far from complete and if I’m not mistaken, I think your ultimate quest is far from over.”

With that, he turns to the kitchen to make Ryuk a cup of green tea.

Chapter 27: Shogyo Mujo

Ryuk grips the sleek, biodegradable black box that the NV Visor comes in.

The visor has been over-packaged, and it takes him a good five minutes to get through the tape, rip through the inner box, undo the felt bag, take off the plastic wrapping, tear off the plastic covering the visor, unpack the wireless DHDNI, undo multiple twist ties, and remove the lining cover from the inside of the visor.

After placing the wireless DHDNI on top of a crescent-shaped Proxima router, he lies down on his bed and gets under the single sheet. The warmth he felt earlier is gone, replaced by a bitter cold that shows no signs of relenting. The blanket should help, but he turns his heating unit on over iNet just to be sure. After setting the automatic time-off to an hour later, Ryuk relaxes onto his pillow, takes a deep breath, and puts the NV Visor over his head.

The familiar tone and the Proxima logo appears, welcoming him.

The visor has already synced with the life chip implanted in Ryuk’s head, and the Tritania desktop he’s chosen takes shape and presents him with a live feed of his guild’s progress and a spawning point. A prompt appears, he selects ‘yes’, and sine waves slowly start to ripple across his pane of vision. Feedback picks up, and after a moment of this, his consciousness shifts and Ryuk is suddenly back in his avatar’s body, joining the Mitherfickers in the town square. The Aramis Security Force has also joined them and are methodically eliminating the walking dead.

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 13 Ballistics Mage

HP: 232/378

ATK: 91

MATK: 120

DEF: 69

MDF: 42

LUCK: 10

FeeTwix Fajer Level 17 Berserker Mystic

HP: 129/600

ATK: 140

MATK: 28

DEF: 81

MDF: 40

LUCK: 13

Hiccup Level 12 Shield Thief

HP: 303/525

ATK: 76

MATK: 13

DEF: 156

MDF: 74

LUCK: 25

Zaena Morozon Level 16 Brawler Assassin

HP: 233/563

ATK: 165

MATK: 8

DEF: 93

MDF: 28

LUCK: 14

Tamana Nakamura Level 10 White Warrior

HP: 180/367

MANA: 121/233

ATK: 84

MATK: 19

DEF: 61

MDF: 95

LUCK: 4

He swipes the stats away after checking their new levels – his due to auto-leveling – and looks to Tamana, who’s hacked and stacked a credible body count. She’s a bit bruised and battered, but Ryuk sees that she’s better off than some of the others.

FeeTwix, his eyes solid black, gives Ryuk the thumbs up and fires a burst of unforgiving metal into the face of a zomb-orc. Not far from the Swede, Hiccup axes his way one-handed through an onslaught of zombie kindergarteners while nursing a healing potion with his non-mechanical hand. Across from him, the Thulean swordswoman single-mindedly serves up a second death to all of those who come within reach of her four whirling blades.

“How was it out there?” Tamana asks. An iridescent light twists up her free hand as she holds it in the air. After a halo forms, a pixelated snowburst of white magic shoots into the air that sprinkles onto the group. +75 HP!

“Never mind.” Ryuk pops out a magazine of black marbles and replaces it with a magazine of molten marbles. He aims at an approaching orc zombie of unusual size and melts its head off.

Instakill!

“Look at these fickin’ things – they’re like rabid fickin’ rats!” Hiccup sends another necrotic preschooler off for a dirt nap, finishes his healing potion, and overhand tosses it into the face of the nearest zombie ankle biter. Ryuk flambés the last one of the group with a molten marble.

Instakill!

With his goat-horned helmet tucked under his arm, the goblin rakes his mechanical fingers through a serious case of pink helmet-hair. He huffs and sighs, and fixes his gaze on Ryuk. “Seriously,” he says, “I’m fickin’ sick of killing zombies. We got some EXP and leveled up a bit, now let’s get back to the Mondegreen and get a bit of rest before tonight’s festivities.”

Tamana nods, proud of herself. “I’m almost caught up with you guys!”

Ryuk: They want to go back. Tired of fighting zombies?

FeeTwix: Ha! I was number three on Dead City’s leader board. Number three, the two above me were RPCs. I never get tired of killing zombies, nor should anyone. However, if you guys want to bail, I’m down.

Ryuk watches as Zaena gives FeeTwix a quick nod. He gets the sense that while he may talk a lot of smack, FeeTwix is actually running out of steam. His tommy gun disappears and he lifts his finger to select a new spawning point. “See you on the other side.”

Zaena and FeeTwix dematerialize in a flash of pixeled goodness; Tamana and Hiccup are up next, and the last one to bail is Ryuk.

The five guildmates take shape in their cramped room at the Mondegreen Hostel. As soon as they do, and before Hiccup can fart, burp, chug a healing potion, or make a ribald remark, they hear a faint knock at the door.

“I’ve brought refreshments.” Jim the hostelier bows slightly at Hiccup after the goblin has opened the door, and with a courtly flourish whisks the silver cover from a tray of dainties. Steam gently wafts from a platter of dragon wings and assorted hors d’oeuvres.

“Listen up, Mitherfickers,” Hiccup calls over his shoulder, “the dragon wings are mine; the rest is up for grabs.”

“No need to be greedy; there are plenty more,” Jim tells him.

Hiccup steps up to Jim and gives him the goblin eye. “If there’s more,” he says with a growl, “why didn’t you bring them?”

Jim narrows his eyes, his good natured smile fades. “If these do not meet your exacting standards, I can always take them away and you can find your own meal.”

“Um, no, these’ll be just fine, thank-you very much.” Hiccup gracefully takes the tray from him. “I was just fickin’ with you, Jimmy ol’ pal. To make things easier, I’ll go ahead and take the entire tray. The rest can have whatever they’d like. Shit, before I forget.” A necklace appears in his mechanical hand. “Twixy, this is for you to give to Liz, as you requested.”

He tosses the necklace to FeeTwix, who turns to Zaena with a sheepish smile on his face. “That’s not exactly how I was hoping that would go.”

“It’s wonderful!” She turns, allowing FeeTwix to clasp the chain with the small silver circlet around her neck.

With that, the goblin clomps right past Ryuk with a tray full of steaming dragon wings and plops down onto the nearest bed.

“Ahem.” Jim straightens the front of his black tuxedo. “And for the rest of you?”

“I’ll have some tea,” Tamana tells him, “something with mink’s willow to restore my MP.”

“Do you have any macaroons?” Zaena asks. FeeTwix nudges her with his elbow. “What?” Her high cheekbones flush red, which provides an interesting contrast to her orange bob and her green tint. “Not those type of macaroons!” She playfully slaps him with her ghost limb.

Ryuk laughs and the pressure he’s felt for the last hour dissipates. His group, his newfound friends, have a way of lightening the dark corners of his life. The fact that Tamana is there only makes the feeling that much better, adding a true sense of familiarity to the group.

Hiccup interrupts his little moment by beating his chest with his fist. “Damn generic healing potions and my fickin’ heartburn. Jim, get me a couple of Hopkins’ Holistic Healing Nostrums and make it snappy. Well, it doesn’t need to be snappy, but when you come back, bring some and bill the guild.” He gives Ryuk a shit-eating grin. “The helm that Dirty Dave gave me really hooked us the fick up.”

He spreads his grubby hands in front of him and a pile of rupees fall to the floor; he snaps his mechanical fingers and they disappear.

FeeTwix plunks down next to Hiccup and puts his arm around the goblin’s shoulder. “You are one crazy mitherficker,” he tells Hiccup, his eyes still black. “You have an actual fan group now; just thought you’d like to know that.”

“How many?”

“Twenty-thousand. They are calling themselves ‘The Fickers.’ They love how OP you are.”

“What?” Hiccup points at FeeTwix’s black eyes. “Listen, Fickers, if you want my love, if you really want my respect, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want. I want to see thirty-three thousand members by tomorrow morning. Also, um, FeeTwix, what are you currently hawking?”

The Swede’s eyes flash blue. “The Old Banana Navy Gap Republic is having an epic sale on women’s jewelry for Valentine’s Day. Sixty percent off all jewelry with the mention of #FeeTwixRox online or in retail stores.” His eyes turn black again.

Hiccup grins. “Also, I want you all to get your asses to Old … ” he gives FeeTwix a confused look. “What the fick was it?”

“The Old Banana Navy Gap Republic.”

“Whatever the fick he just said. Go there, and buy some of that shit and wear it.”

“It’s jewelry for women.”

“Great! Strike a blow for gender neutrality or something! Buy fick-tons of it, and tell them Uncle Goblin sent you!”

“The discount code is #FeeTwixRox.”

“Fick this, I give up.” Hiccup throws his hands up in the air and returns to his dragon wings.

(0)__(0)

As the others eat, and as FeeTwix tries several times to explain to Hiccup how to correctly market and live-sell a product, Tamana moves towards Ryuk and motions him to the door. They step out into the lobby and take a seat in on a green sofa that, like most of the decor in this place, doesn’t quite fit the fantasy parameters.

“Tell me what happened out there.” She lifts a strand of white hair out of her face and tucks it into the braid on the side. “I know you, Ryuk, I know something happened.”

His thoughts regarding RPCs and their “realness” come to him and he pushes them far away. She’s here, and that’s what matters.

“As I told you before I logged out – my brother stopped by.”

“And?”

“He threatened Hajime with a weapon that shuts down humandroids.”

“Really?” She places her hand over her mouth; the concern on her face is one of the more genuine things he has seen in a while, even if it is fake, he reminds himself.

“He came at me and … ” Ryuk relives the experience, the sound of the shattering table, the blood. “I pushed him into my coffee table and he broke it. Hurt himself too.”

Tamana moves back. “You shoved him?”

“Yeah.” Ryuk bites his lip. “I was, still am, sick of his shit. He can kill me for all I care! He will no longer intimidate me.”

She looks away and is quiet for a moment. Finally, she turns back to Ryuk. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That he can kill you. I don’t want you to die.”

“But I don’t care if I live, so that makes dying a lot easier. That, and the fact that I will spawn here, and we can … ”

She looks away. “I don’t want you to think that way about dying. It’s too serious to be trivialized. Yes, you can come here as an RPC once you die, but I don’t want you to think of it as some type of backup plan. You need to live, enjoy your life up there, get married, have kids …”

“I don’t want any of that.” Ryuk grabs Tamana’s hand. “I want you, that’s it. Not someone else up there. I want what we have here.”

Shogyo Mujo, Ryuk thinks, all worldly things are transitory.

“Don’t … you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re just going through a lot right now. I’m not real.” She runs her hands along the front of her avatar’s body to make her point. “I’m an RPC, which as you know, is just a very well-designed NPC. The Tamana you knew up there is dead.”

“No, she’s right here.” He squeezes her hand even harder.

“That’s not the way it is, Ryuk, and you know that.”

He releases her hand and sits back for a moment, thinking of what to say next. “Do you remember the RPC couples we’ve met in Valhalla and other places?”

“I do.”

“We can be like them.”

A sad smile moves across her face. “But you’re not an RPC and, I don’t even know if that’s the kind of relationship we should have right now.”

His heart sinks. “So you wouldn’t have said yes, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

When I asked you out before the incident. You never gave me an answer. The date.” He looks away.

“Of course I would have said yes. I was … ” She clears her throat. “It was just unexpected. I was going to message you later and tell you yes. Honest.”

Ryuk’s eyes fill with joy. “Tamana, you know everything about me, even my family’s dark past, and I know everything about you, all of it. There isn’t another person, in the real world or in the Proxima Galaxy who is a better fit for me.”

Her eyes soften. “You think so?”

“I do, I really do, and I’ve never been able to say it and damn me for finally having the guts to tell you now. I’m here for you, forever, and I will be here in Tritania forever when my RW avatar moves on.”

She takes Ryuk’s hand and brings it to her chest, just above her heart. “If you can accept me for who I’ve become, if you can truly accept me, then I support any decision you make. Just, please, don’t do anything hasty; don’t be careless with your life. Try to live as long as you can; be a positive influence on the world up there and we can grow what we already have here.”

“Oh, fick me to tears – what is this, the Junior Prom?” Hiccup stands at the exit of their room with an empty tray of dragon wings in his greasy, sauce besmeared goblin beaters. “You two are just about the most pathetic virgins I’ve ever come across.”

Ryuk whips his hand away from Tamana’s chest.

“Ha! You finally get your chance to cop a feel and you let your old Uncle Goblin stop you? Pfft! Grab on, my friend, grab on.” Hiccup deposits the tray on the check-in desk. “And you,” he tells Jim, who now stands behind the desk. “What kind of perv gets his jollies watching some icky-sweet display of puppy love? Talk about a voyeuristic ficker.”

With the speed of a striking cobra, Jim grabs the mouthy goblin by an oversized ear and bangs his head on the tray. “Yoy!”

Jim’s eyes narrow on him. “I endeavor to be a gracious and tolerant host. If you wish to continue to enjoy the hospitality of this establishment, I suggest you show me some courtesy and respect.”

He bangs Hiccup’s head against the tray one last time for emphasis.

“Yoy! Yoy! Yoy! Easy there, Jimmie boy! Sorry, I was just fickin’ with you,” exclaims the slightly chastened goblin. “It’s the store brand healing potions I tells ya. They always leave me in a bad mood. But that’s not what’s important. Look, Jim, we got big plans tonight, and while these two are hand-holding and doing the mooncalf eyes thing out here, Lizzy and Twixy are in our room tickling and cuddling in a way that makes my tum-tum do nip-ups. Fick it. I guess everyone has their own way to unwind. What I’m trying to say is … ” Hiccup’s eyes suddenly lose focus, and for two heartbeats he’s silent. “Where was I?” he asks, as he shakes it off.

“You were talking about your guildmates’ relaxational pursuits.”

“That’s right! Damn Goblinheimer’s. It’s early onset, and I got a good fifty to a hundred more years in me before I’m being spoonfed and having my starfish wiped by a hot elf nurse. Anyfickin’hoo, as I was saying, the two in there already know which hole the ding-dong goes, these two, not so much. Sad!”

“Is that what you came to tell me?” Jim asks.

“No, I came to tell ... erm, to ask you to fry me up another round of dragon wings and make’em spicier this time, as I’d like it to burn on both ends.” The goblin turns to Ryuk. “And I came to tell you two to quit fickin’ around and get your asses in here so we can figure out the best way to not die tonight.”

The goblin punctuates his exit with a basso-profundo trouser shout, and an almost palpable stench wafts into the air. Tamana pinches her nose and now it’s Ryuk’s turn to laugh. “You get used to it,” he assures her.

Jim produces a cut crystal bottle with a custom-crafted spray top and delicately spritzes the air with industrial strength pine scent.

(0)__(x)

Back in their room, Ryuk paces back and forth and tries to recall the layout of the Shinigami’s guild quarters. The goblin sits on the bed, finger up his nose as he desultorily mines a nostril. Across from him are FeeTwix and Zaena, and Tamana occupies a low footstool.

“After the ass-whooping you gave those fickboys last night, they are going to be tooled the fick up and waiting for trouble.”

“Hiccup’s right,” says Zaena. “We surprised them last night with stealth and subtlety; tonight, we’ll have to blast our way in.”

“Really? And you’re okay with the use of non-traditional weapons?” FeeTwix rubs his hands together.

“They worked quite well against the zombies,” she admits.

FeeTwix suggests, “Let’s go in through the sewers – there are sewers in this world, right?”

Ryuk shakes his head. “In this world, yes, there are sewers beneath the Giants’ city of Wartlinga on the continent of Polynya. But here in Aramis beneath the guild district, I’m going to go with no.”

Tamana snaps her fingers. “I’ve got an idea!”

The four Mitherfickers turn to her.

“Here’s what we do, and don’t laugh at the idea before I can finish explaining it,” she scolds the goblin. “We come in as guild sanitation workers. They open their gates and we hit them, plain and simple. Remember, they’re not really expecting us to hit them twice in a row; they’re expecting us to run and hide.”

“Do you think they’ll buy it?” FeeTwix asks.

“Of course they’ll buy it,” Hiccup says on the tail end of a burp. “That’s the thing about looking official – you can get away with some real fickery. Hell, with the right clothes, anyone can get away with anything. That’s the same in your world, right?”

Ryuk considers Japan’s parliament members. “Yes, it’s roughly the same.”

“Well, fick me then, that’s the plan! I’ll get us some sanitation outfits. Let me see … ” He hops to his feet, grimaces at a pain in his lower back. “Fick, this is a good idea.” He claps his hands together as he makes his way to the door. “I’m glad I had it!”

Tamana raises her finger to say something but Ryuk gives her a look that says it’s not worth it.

Zaena looks to Ryuk. “I like this idea, but I think that if we all come in weapons waving and guns a-blazing, it’ll be too easy to pick us off. Better to diversify our attack and not all come in from the front. Here’s what I think: Ryuk and I can provide fire support from the top of the wall. We can set up just before you two and the goblin arrive,” she tells FeeTwix and Tamana.

“Jim, make those dragon wings to go!” Ryuk hears Hiccup call from outside their door.

“Fire support? Are you going toss swords or something?”

“No, dear.” She pats FeeTwix’s cheek. “If you didn’t know, and clearly you don’t, I’m quite proficient with a bow, as are many of the Assassin class. I can use two bows with ghost limbs, and though I’m not quite as good as I am with the swords, I think you’ll find my skills more than adequate.”

“This will work,” Ryuk takes Hiccup’s seat on the bed, but only after inspecting it for skid marks, teeny-weeny livestock, or any other little gob-souvenir Uncle Hiccup may have left behind.

He places his five magazines on the bed and empties them as Zaena continues to plan. For fire support, he decides that the clear marbles won’t be of much use, and if he has to he can shoot those with his slingshot. He quickly does the math and goes with four magazines loaded with alternating molten and black marbles and one loaded exclusively with knife marbles.

Zaena continues to elaborate on the plan. “We’ll take out whatever is outside first.”

“What about the mages?” Ryuk asks.

She scrunches up her nose as she considers this. “I really don’t know; we really got lucky last time.”

“They won’t come into the courtyard,” says Tamana.

“What makes you think that?” Ryuk asks.

“A hunch. Even if they are out looking for us, they’ll want to protect that energy source they have in the cellar, and my guess is that they’ve moved it inside, down to the basement where it’s easier to protect.”

FeeTwix equips two Glock 19 Gen 4s and puts them in holsters that form under his arms. An ankle holster takes shape on his leg and he secures a Colt .380 Mustang Light in it.

Zaena smirks, “That little one is kind of cute.”

“That’s my last resort,” he tells her. “Back to the plan: you two provide suppressing fire while we mop up the fuckers at ground level. Then we move inside. My fans have already sent me a schematic of the inside of the guild, which I’ll forward to you all. There’s a grand entrance and plenty of space, but the other part of the building is a single upstairs room, a kitchen area, and a basement, all connected by a single flight of stairs. Hold up.”

FeeTwix’s eyes flash black as his mirror appears in his hand. He gives his audience a dashing smile. “Hey everyone! Just a reminder to not touch that dial while my feed is off-line! Keep playing and streaming to earn bonus points – and remember, one lucky winner will receive a three-year TwitchTube Red subscription, absolutely free of charge – plus a ton of other cool schwag personally autographed by me! No purchase necessary, winner will be selected by random drawing. And as if that wasn’t enough – Wendy’s Hut is having a world-wide special promotion starting tomorrow. Mention #FeeTwixRox at the checkout to get half off a Triple Bacon Chili Pepper Jack Burger Light with any personal-sized pizza purchase. The Triple Bacon Chili Pepper Jack Burger Light features Wendy’s Hut’s proprietary genetically modified meat and cheese to give you all that tasty goodness at a quarter of the calories of the regular Triple Bacon Chili Pepper Jack Burger. Love you guys and stay tuned, the Mitherfickers are getting live tonight! ”

Zaena tilts her head and wrinkles her forehead. “Wait, is it triple bacon on a burger or triple burger with bacon?”

FeeTwix’s eyes turn blue again. “No idea, honey. Just doing my job.”

Chapter 28: Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service

Dark clouds pass in front of a yellow moon; a breeze draws a meditative melody from a single wind chime on the balcony of a two-story guildhall. A dog barks somewhere in the distance, the clip-clop of a horse and carriage echoes down the street.

Ryuk and Zaena are clad in the leather tunic and thick-soled, knee high boots of the Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service. Zaena stops, examines the rooftops, and waits for the breeze to subside. Ryuk is also on high-alert: his Extreme Focus skill narrows his pane of vision and Magic Eye adds soft hues to everything he focuses on.

The Thulean assassin stops in front of a two-story guildhall whose property abuts the alley behind the Shinigami. It’s separated from the street by a small iron fence, which squeaks as she uses her ghost limb to open it. After a sidelong glance at Ryuk, she enters and he follows behind her. The two walk down a pathway of large trapezoidal stepping stones that is bordered with tall cylindrical shrubs.

At the front door, Zaena smooths the front of her borrowed uniform and knocks with her ghost limb.

An old man’s voice rings out, “Who is it?”

“Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service,” Ryuk says. He clears his throat and tries again, in a deeper, more confident voice. “Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service.”

“Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service?”

With a rattle of chains and clicking of deadbolts, the door swings inward to reveal an older PC. He sports the de rigueur cleric look – long robes of an indeterminate color, flowing white beard, bushy eyebrows and a pointy wizard’s hat, complete with stars and moons and hex symbols. His stats appear above his head as he peers at the two, his untrimmed brows rise toward the brim of his hat.

Dark Healer Level 17

HP: 431/431

MANA: 342/342

ATK: 29

MATK: 146

DEF: 48

MDF: 74

LUCK: 11

“You sure have picked a strange hour to visit. Isn’t it late for public service minions to be out and about?”

Minions?

“We’re, um, running behind schedule today because of, um, some things that happened in Bar Row,” Zaena tells him. “There was a big brawl, lots of damage and debris and we’re still trying to get a handle on it.”

“It was goblins,” Ryuk chimes in.

“Fucking goblins. Wait, did you say Bar Row? No one else from my guild mentioned it. They’re there now,” his visage darkens, “pissing away all the rupees we earned through a side quest on the outskirts of Shiya. Dumbasses. Okay, well, the stuff is out back. I’d open the side gate, but I’m afraid it is overgrown with vines at the moment! Please, come in, and let me make you some tea while you are here.”

Ryuk bows his head. “We are in a bit of a hurry to catch up and finish for the night.”

The old man cackles. “Nonsense! No one is in a hurry, commoner or NPC alike,” he says with a nod toward Zaena.

The door swings wide open and he motions for them to follow him. As he walks with his hands clasped behind his back, he muses on some of his travels through Tritania. “I’m only at level seventeen, but I’ve encountered plenty of Thuleans in Polynya. Never seen one as a sanitation worker, though!”

“We exist,” Zaena tells him. “If you visit Athos or any of its surrounding boroughs, you’ll find that all the workers are Thulean. The local government just started, um, a diversity and inclusiveness in the workplace initiative that sends us to other locations.” She shoots Ryuk a quick thumbs up. “At first, I thought it was just trendy feel good bullshit, but it comes with room, board, and a week of paid travel in Hyperborea so I decided to give it a try.”

Not a bad story. Ryuk quickly formulates one of his own, just in case.

“Makes sense,” says the old cleric as they take a few steps down into a wide, open den with a bar on one side. “Please sit.” He motions to a long table with eight wooden placemats and grins. “Anywhere is fine; this will only be a moment. And you?” he asks Ryuk as he sets a copper kettle on an iron stove. “Why on the Empress’ three floating continents would a PC take this role?”

“I thought it’d be interesting.” Ryuk feels Zaena tap him on the back of the head with her ghost limb. “Plus, there are some sewer monsters that dish out some serious EXP.”

“What about you?” Zaena asks as he adds various leaves, twigs, and herbs to the kettle. “Why didn’t you go with your guildmates?”

“I’m not one of these that’s anxious to drink myself into a stupor or consort with NPCs of easy virtue and wind up with psoriasis of the lizard and gob-crabs the size of your thumb, thank-you very much. I prefer to save my rupees and devote my energy to other pursuits.”

He brings the kettle back behind the counter and pours out two cups of his strange brew. “There you go, my friends – drink up. You’ll find this most soothing.”

“Won’t you be having one?” Zaena asks the old cleric as she takes the decoction from him.

“In a moment; I always make sure my guests are served first!”

Ryuk lifts the tea to his lips and stops. He glances from the cup to the old man. The old man looks away immediately, and returns to the small prep station behind the bar.

Something isn’t right.

Zaena sips her drink, smiles in pleased surprise and slams it down her neck in three big gulps. “This is a most excellent brew!” She cuts her orange gaze from Ryuk to their host.

“I’m so pleased you find it to your taste. It’s my own special blend. Have another, I insist!” The old cleric hobbles back over to her and dispenses another cup.

“This is just wonderful.” She giggles as she takes another sip and sighs with satisfaction and enjoyment. Where she’d been tense and alert, she’s now loosened up considerably and is propping herself up against the bar.

“Please, do drink up,” the old man tells Ryuk.

“It’s just a little too hot for me just yet. Please give me a minute.”

“More for me!” Zaena announces. “This stuff is fabulous! You have to try some Ryuk, have to.” She burps and slams her empty cup down on the table. “More!”

“Easy, my Thulean friend, easy,” the cleric laughs, “save some for me!” He produces a cup from behind the bar and takes a sip from it. “You’re quite correct, this is most excellent if I do say so myself! Hold on, I’ll get you some more.”

A tendril of yellow magic curls off the top of the hot liquid. I knew it! Ryuk draws his marble gun, points it at the cleric, and stands. “The antidote,” he tells the old man. “NOW.”

“Ryuk!” Zaena slurs. “What are you doing?”

“Hands where I can see them,” Ryuk tells him.

The cleric cocks his head ever so slightly. “Is that a gun?”

Ryuk answers with a knife marble, which pegs the old man in the shoulder and causes him to drop his cup.

-59 HP!

The cleric seethes as he presses his hand into the wound on his shoulder. “No one attacks me in my own guildhall, you arrogant fool!”

Zaena goes for her weapons, fumbles the draw, and slides off the stool in a clatter of dropped cutlery.

Iridescent white magic flows from the cleric’s hand to his shoulder; the wound heals completely and the bloodstain vanishes. “Is this a game you’d really like to play, boy?”

“It’s a game I’ve already won.”

Ryuk fires two more knife marbles directly into the cleric’s throat.

Tonsil Shot! Instakill!

(0)__(0)

Skill level up!

Skill: Tonsil Shot

Level Three: 1 in 9 chance of connecting.

Damage: 28% if enemy is less than level 30; 15% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 11%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 9

That’s odd, it skipped a level. Ryuk swipes the prompt away and chalks it up to the fact that he attacked with his marble gun. The next prompt is one he hasn’t seen before.

Marble level up!

Your knife marbles have now become SWORD MARBLES! Sword marbles are larger and provide +25% more damage than knife marbles. You can toggle between the two marble classes by voicing a command.

Sword marbles? Ryuk fires a single sword marble into the wall on the opposite side of the room. Thunk! Sure enough, the blade is now the length of a wakizashi, and a bit thicker too.

Ryuk tries to help Zaena to her feet, but she’s rag-doll limp, drooling, and unresponsive. He slaps her five or six times before she slowly blinks her eyes open. “Whuzzup? Where are we?” She tries to lift her chin and drops it; her eyes flutter closed.

He slaps her again because he doesn’t know what else to do. “Open those eyes!” he cries. “Stay with me!”

Ryuk: Zaena’s been poisoned and I don’t know what to do! This PKer gave her some tea. At first I thought she was drunk, but I can’t wake her up and she’s breathing funny. She’s been poisoned.

FeeTwix: PKers? Poisoned?

Tamana: Player killers – they kill other players for their goods.

Hiccup: Did you say she was drunk or did you say she was poisoned? I know some would disagree, but there’s a fickin’ difference Ryuk and you know it. Parsing – it’s a way of life.

Ryuk: I don’t know. She’s slurring her words and she can’t stand!

Hiccup: All right, already. I’ll be there in a jiff.

Ryuk looks to the dead cleric on the floor. He’ll likely alert his guild as soon as he respawns. He could also do so from the real world, which only adds to the tension he feels closing in around him.

“It’ll be okay, Zaena.” He holds her head in his lap and she opens one eye.

“Ryuk?” she coughs, smiles, and her eyes roll back into her head.

“Hiccup will be here soon.” His foot hits something solid and invisible as he moves closer to her. Her ghost limb.

“Why’d you kill him?” she asks, her eyes half-open.

“He poisoned you and he tried to kill me,” Ryuk tells her. “I was protecting you. Just keep breathing.”

Where the hell is that goblin?

Ryuk: Hurry, Hiccup!

Hiccup: For fick’s sake Marbles, I’m coming!

She snorts. “You? Protecting me? Thuleans don’t need … some … some commoner protecting them!” She laughs, gasps, chokes, and brings up three cups of poisoned tea right into Ryuk’s lap. “Sorry,” she says as a frown spreads across her face. “I was … only joking. You’re a good guy, Ryuk. Getting stronger too.”

Zaena makes a gun with her hand. “Pew! Pew! Pew! Marbles!” She laughs, and becomes suddenly serious. “Do you think FeeTwix really cares about me?”

Ryuk knows that there is no correct answer to that one. Luckily, she doesn’t wait for an answer.

Her face morphs from curious to deadly serious. “There are … things I haven’t told you, things I haven’t told any of you about my past. It will complicate things. Not now, but later.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I have something I need to tell all of you; something that … ”

Hiccup’s form takes shape. “Jeez, Marbles, you really ficked that dude up!” The rotund goblin with the pink topknot and the mechanical steampunk arm scuttles over to Zaena. Apparently, they don’t make the sanitation getup to fit the full-figured goblin, as he looks like he was melted down and poured into his. He gives Zaena a double take and all the funny drains right out of him. “Oh FICK! Gotta move fast on this one! Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“I did, dammit!”

“Hold her head and tip her nose up. When I say GO, let go of her and roll clear. Ready?”

Ryuk nods uncertainly.

Hiccup equips a small bag of white powder and two Big Gulp straws which he jabs into the powder three or four times to pack the ends. He jams the powdered end of the straws way up into Zaena’s nostrils, tells Ryuk to get ready and blows the powder up into her sinuses.

“GO!”

They both leap clear, a split-second before the Thulean woman snorts, coughs, and explodes into angry, roaring, frenetic life. She tosses chairs, overturns a table, and rips a tapestry from the wall.

“Fickin’ hell, Lizzy, bring it down a notch, we just saved your emerald green ass!” Uncle Goblin exclaims as he covers his head.

Ryuk, his hands up in a placating gesture, nods rapidly. “The cleric poisoned you; Hiccup brought you back. Please, relax!”

Zaena bristles then calms slightly. “And just what did you ‘bring me back’ with?”

“Well, it sure wasn’t Fluffy Bunny Cuddle Milk,” the goblin scoffs. “Wizardous, of course. How the fick do you think FeeTwix and I kept our bloodshot peepers open and our wits about us with all the boozing we did last night? Hoo, baby! That shit doesn’t just bring you back, it’ll go out and get you!”

“Yhai doomak bawano poolakh!”

“A bearadillo’s chapped anus, huh?” Hiccup looks at her fondly for a moment. “That’s a good one! Now perk the fick up and let’s get the hell out of here. Tammy and Twixy are waiting for me in the street, and we’re waiting on you two to get your asses into position.”

With a parting poot, the goblin dematerializes. Zaena rubs her temples for a moment.

“Do you want to sit, or something?” Ryuk asks. He knows they don’t have a lot of time, but he also knows she’s just been brought back from death by funky tea poisoning. “How are you feeling?”

“The wizardous worked. My ears are ringing, my ghost limbs itch, and my scalp is on too tight. I feel pretty good, actually, but don’t tell the goblin.” She turns to Ryuk, walks right past him and nods for him to follow. “And I don’t know exactly what happened back there,” she finally says over her shoulder, “but thanks.”

(0)__(x)

On their way out the back door, Ryuk wonders how the cryptic hints about her background could complicate things. What is she holding back? He watches her walk in front of him. The lean Thulean is hiding something from them, surely, but now isn’t the time to try to figure out what it is.

The backyard is small; Shinigami’s exterior wall towers over the low stone wall in front of them that separates the property from the alleyway. Ryuk follows Zaena to the shorter wall, where she pauses. A message flashes on his viewing pane.

Zaena: Do you sense anyone in the alley?

Ryuk: Give me a moment.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and waits for his senses to focus inward. The silence comes to him in waves. Background noise from the Guild District recedes as he deepens his focus. He notices a soft orange web of force extending from the wall in front of them to the exterior of the Shinigami’s wall.

Skill level up!

Skill: Magic Eye

Level Five: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. A yellow outline signals that an object is enchanted. A dark blue outline signals that necrotic magic is being used. A green outline signals that algomagic is being used. An orange outline indicates a hidden trap is present.

Requirements: Level 13 Mage, LUCK > 8.

Skill level up!

Skill: Extreme Focus

Level Two: Can detect approach of camouflaged/concealed/stealthed enemies and objects.

Mage bonus: Higher levels allow sleuthing and increased accuracy. Also increases magic detection range when used in tandem with Magic Eye.

Requirements: LUCK > 9

He opens his eyes, and the pixelated matter surrounding his pane of vision flitters away.

“We need to go from the top of this wall, to the top of their wall,” he whispers. “Can you make it?”

“Are there enemies in the alley?”

“There’s a web of invisible force strung between the walls. I can’t tell what kind of trap it is, just that it is a trap – it could be anything.”

Zaena takes a step back, judging the distance between the tops of the walls. “It’s going to be a bit of a stretch,” she finally says as she lifts herself up, “But I think I can make it and get you over safely. Is the magic on the surface of the wall or just on the ground of the alley?”

“Just the ground.” He calls up to her. “Touching the wall shouldn’t be a problem.”

The slender Thulean crouches atop the wall, judges the distance, and leaps skyward. Her ghost limbs catch the top of the Shinigami’s wall and she swings herself up and wedges herself in an embrasure.

Zaena: There are two armed sentries on the wall walk, but they’re on the other side. Hurry.

Ryuk climbs to the top of the shorter wall and looks down at the gridlines crisscrossing the alley. Deep breath in, he blows it back out as he launches himself into the air. The talons on Zaena’s ghost limbs catch his armor and swing him into the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

-10 HP!

“Sorry!” Zaena hisses.

Already off to a bad start, he thinks as he scales the wall with the Thulean’s assistance. Once he gets to the top, he crouches, his marble gun at the ready.

It’s déjà vu all over again; they were in a similar position last night, peering down at the courtyard. The only difference this time is the muscle – the small horde of NPC barbarians and their Shire horses – the same group that passed them in Bar Row yesterday – have set up shop in the courtyard. On the wall walk across from them are the two archers that Zaena spotted earlier.

But that’s not what catches Ryuk’s eye. On the roof of the guildhall, crouching in the shadows are a pair of ninjas – one male, one female – their outlines only visible in red due to his Extreme Focus skill.

Ryuk: The ninjas have spotted us.

Zaena: Ninjas? Where?

Ryuk: Rooftop.

Zaena: Why haven’t they attacked us?

Ryuk: They’re waiting to see what we do first.

The two are at least level fifteen, as it is around this level that the Ninja class gets the Mask Stats ability. There’s no way to accurately judge how strong they are, but the fact that he can see them at all makes him think that they probably aren’t too high up the totem pole.

Ryuk: They’ll come for us, and when they do, I’ll take them out. You focus on disrupting the barbarians below. Are the two on the opposite wall in range for your arrows?

Zaena: For sure.

Ryuk: We’ll make our move once the others enter.

Knock knock. The sound echoes through the courtyard. The barbarians turn their horses to the gate and ready their weapons as the smallest of the bunch dismounts and approaches the gate. “Who’s there?”

“Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service!” FeeTwix yells out in a British-y accent.

“Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service who?” the barbarian yells back.

“Haw! Nice one – like it, like it. We’re ‘ere for your rubbage!”

Chapter 29: Life in the fast lane

The barbarian opens the gate and the disguised Mitherfickers enter.

Of the three, only Tamana looks good in the sanitation uniform. Ryuk is unsurprised – Japanese women go to great lengths for stylish perfection, symmetry, and trimness. Hiccup is the very antithesis of kawaii, but he does absolutely look like the stereotypical bin man. He’s the last to enter, and wheels in a covered trash cart. Ryuk can’t be sure, but it appears as if the goblin has smeared mud across the front of his tunic. At least he hopes it’s mud.

FeeTwix: Now!

Tamana rolls left, Hiccup rolls right and snatches off the patchwork blanket that covers the cart. FeeTwix throws himself prone as the UA 571-C Remote Sentry Weapon pops up above the rim of the cart and cuts loose with short controlled bursts of flying unhappiness.

-8 HP! -11 HP! -6 HP! -14 HP! -23 HP!

The barbarians curse and shout; their horses squeal in pain and alarm as the rounds tear into them. The sharp, staccato bark of a different automatic weapon no doubt means that FeeTwix is getting himself in the game.

By the time Ryuk gets a grip on the melee taking place before him, Zaena has fletched both archers with three or four arrows each – she’s fast and accurate – and is raining feathered death down into the courtyard as fast as she can draw and loose. Stroboscopic flashes from the automatic weapons give the battleground a surrealistic air; the clash and clang of sword on shield tells him that Tammy and Hiccup are fully occupied.

The rooftop ninjas. Ryuk sinks into his own Extreme Focus to try to locate them. There you are!

He fires three sword marbles to his left; a katana and wakizashi spin away when they connect with the first ninja.

-49 HP! -28 HP!

The gravely injured ninja is down, wheezing and gasping for breath but still gamely in the fight as he brandishes a tanto and drags himself forward.

Ryuk’s dream armor lifts off his left shoulder and deflects an incoming throwing star.

The other ninja.

He twists and fires two marbles to the right – nothing but air.

Zaena looses her last arrow and draws her four swords. “I’m going down there!” she calls as she leaps off the wall walk.

Shit. Ryuk glances left and right, aware now that the second ninja is stalking him. He still needs to kill the first one, but that fucker has all but disappeared, red outline and all. The first swipe comes from his left. As his dream armor rises to meet it, the armor briefly exposes his right shoulder.

-46 HP!

As soon as the sai digs into his flesh, Ryuk’s dream armor responds and yanks it out. He fires left, right, spins around, elbow sweeps just in case, pops his sword marble magazine out and replaces it with a mixed molten and black magazine.

A throwing star jams in his calf.

-11 HP!

He fires an explosive shot to his immediate right, but there’s no one there. It hits the wall and blasts shrapnel into the downed ninja, killing him.

-8 HP! -13 HP!

+1 Luck!

New skill!

Skill: Splash Back

Level One: Damage increases with higher levels.

Damage:  4% if enemy is less than level 30; 1% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 4%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 9

The stealthier surviving ninja sheds her concealment and charges towards Ryuk. Time stands still as a red targeting dot appears on her forehead.

Headshot! Instakill!

New skill!

Skill: Gory Headshot

Level One: Odds of instakill increase with level.

Odds of Instakill: 52% if enemy is less than level 30; 32% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Caveat: Must be within five meters of an opponent’s head.

He swipes the prompts away and turns his attention to the courtyard below.

(0)__(0)

Ryuk quickly chugs a grenade-shaped bottle of Hopkins’, which restores him to full health.

He vaults to the ground and sinks back into the shadow cast by the wall. I need to get a sense of what’s happening; I need some range. Difficult to tell who’s doing what to whom; the dust, noise and darkness all contribute to the fog of war. The sentry gun has stopped firing, either out of ammo or out of clear targets as the Mitherfickers are mixing it up with the few remaining hostiles.

Ryuk waits, weapon up.

The final barbarian still mounted bursts free of the confusion and gallops for Hiccup, whirling morning star in hand. Without the need of conscious thought or pause to aim, Ryuk points, shoots, and blows the warhorse out from under the charging berserker. He lands badly, and his mount lands atop him.

“Oh, that’s gotta fickin’ sting!” Hiccup chortles as he neatly decapitates the downed warrior and hocks a gob-gobbet onto his corpse.

A blazing blue blast a meter wide explodes outward from a knot of armored warriors; sintered metal and seared gobbets of flesh rain down upon friend and foe alike. FeeTwix stands at the apex of the cone of devastation, bowhack in hand. As the smoke clears, the algoweapon returns to its crossbow form.

Tamana cartwheels into a disoriented soldier of fortune and hacks him in half with her ironing board of a sword. As Tamana turns to seek more adversaries, the Thulean assassin stands off three brawny barbarians, and in a balletic dance of death, quickly and gracefully dispatches two as Tamana hacks the life from the third.

Helmed Hiccup pulls a healing potion out of thin air, and gets to nursing it. “Fick, that’s some good brew,” he says as he makes his way over to Ryuk. About the only barbarian left tries to lift himself off the ground as Hiccup approaches. The goblin gives him a knee to the underside of the chin, finishes off his healing potion, and smashes the bottle against the back of his head.

-16 HP!

“Who wants to kill this last guy?” Hiccup asks.

“Please don’t!” The mustachioed barbarian hombre boo-hoos. He drops to his knees in front of Hiccup, all teary-eyed and clasped hands.

“He’s not the last guy – I’m still fighting someone!” Zaena shouts as the next-to-last barbarian charges her. FeeTwix fires half a magazine into him and drops the sellsword like a bad habit.

“NOW he’s the last guy!” the witty Swede observes with a chuckle. “Thank me later, babe!”

Ryuk waits for Zaena to rant about alien weapons; instead, she lowers her arms and takes a big breath. Tamana does the same once she’s stabbed her big sword into the ground.

Hiccup again. “Okay, so who wants to ice Ming the Mercenary so we can get on with this?”

“I beg you, Master Goblin - please don’t!”

“That’s Mr. Master Goblin, and boy fickin’ howdy do we got a sniveler here.” Hiccup makes the gesture for the others to gather around. Ryuk is the last to join them, his eyes still trained on the guildhall. He senses something inside, something fueled by green algomagic.

Hiccup crouches next to the final barbarian. Tamana stands back, her buster sword at the ready. Zaena keeps her eyes on the wall walk and the roof top as she scans for any activity.

“Never thought you’d see a goblin up close and personal, did ya, pal?” Hiccup slaps the blubbering bruiser with his mechanical hand. “Funny, your mom thought the same thing, but once you go goblin … ” A blank look flashes across his face. “Where … ?”

“Interrogating,” FeeTwix says under his breath, his M4 trained on the barbarian.

“This ficker? Easy. Did I already make a mom joke?”

“You did.”

“Fick me to tears, then!” Hiccup flicks his mechanical finger against the guy’s nose. “All right, Freddie Mercury, spill the beans or I’ll rip your braided mustache off and stick it up your ass!”

“I don’t know anything about them!” The NPC barbarian tears up. “My guild was just hired to protect the outside. We didn’t even meet the people inside. Honest!”

“And they’re in there now?”

“I … ” he gulps. “I don’t know. I think so. They haven’t left, but they could have spawned somewhere else.”

“He’s useless to us, kill him.” Hiccup stands.

“Wait! I’m not useless, I swear! I have more info! Last I saw, last we saw … ” He glances around at his fallen guildmates. “There were two mages, a guy with a black hood that looks like him.” He nods to Ryuk. “I mean, exactly like him. Scrawny, black hair, black hood, Ballistics Mage. No gun though.”

Exactly like me? Ryuk glances to Tamana, who offers him a quick shrug as if to say ‘I don’t remember seeing someone like that’. Zaena’s story of her first encounter with the Shinigami matches up, though.

“Just three?” Hiccup asks.

“That’s all I saw. I swear!”

“Thanks for the info. Finish the job, Twixy.”

Hiccup approaches Ryuk and both of them turn to the front doors of the guildhall. After a quick, three-round burst, FeeTwix joins them, followed by Zaena and Tamana, who takes up the rear.

“How should we do this?” Ryuk asks, looking up at the door.

“Well, there’s no sense in knocking. Twixy?”

A wrapped demolition charge appears in his hands. “My friend Boomex and I say we make a grand entrance.”

(0)__(x)

“You sure are quick to blow stuff up.” Zaena uses her ghost limb to test the door handle. “It’s unlocked.”

FeeTwix shrugs, his eyes black as ever. “A day without explosives is like a day without sunshine, and I’m sure there’ll be an opportunity for demolitions ahead.”

“How many?” Ryuk taps the side of his head.

FeeTwix grins. “The most I’ve ever had, approaching two million. Thanks for watching, everyone! Here goes the grand finale!”

“For fick’s sake, Twixy, keep it in your pants. Everyone juice up.” Another Hopkins’ Holistic Healing Brew takes shape in the goblin’s grubby palm. He chugs half of it, even though he’s hardly taken any hit point damage. After wiping his lips with his mechanical arm, he hands the bottle to Tamana. “Your turn, Tammy.”

“I’ll pass.” She lifts a single hand above her head and glittery white specks trickle from her open palm.

+32 HP!

“Looks like it’s all you, Marbles.”

+72 HP! Ryuk finishes the healing potion. As he does so, he hears FeeTwix crack one of the generic healing potions open and share it with Zaena. The Swede’s eyes flash as he reads messages from his fans.

“Anything?” Ryuk asks.

“Nothing helpful.”

Ryuk steps to the front of the group, his marble gun at the ready. He takes a position next to the big wooden door with its black metal framing and motions for everyone to step back and out of the fatal funnel. FeeTwix joins him, his M-4 up and ready to go.

After a breath to calm his nerves, Ryuk gives Zaena the signal. The door pops open and in he goes, taking the right while FeeTwix takes to the left.

It’s only after they are in position do they realize how unnecessary their movie-style dynamic entry was. The well-lit great hall that lies before them, with its marble flooring and twenty-foot-high ceilings, is completely empty.

Hiccup lets loose with a honking, quacking, fluttering blast that echoes most impressively in the great, empty hall. “Fick, that felt good! I was holding that one in since before we hit the front gate!”

With a sour look on her face, Zaena steps around the gassy goblin. She’s equipped the swords that Dirty Dave gave her, two of which float in the air above her head. Tamana is last in; she bangs the tip of her buster sword against the door and nearly trips over her own feet.

“Dammit, Tammy!” Hiccup growls.

FeeTwix keeps his weapon up as he moves to the center of the room, the single door at the other end of the open space is in his crosshairs. “Sensing anything?”

“Just the magic I sensed earlier, below,” says Ryuk. “Some type of algomagic.” As the others pass around him, he closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. Random, unhelpful thoughts – from his altercation with his brother to Tamana’s death leap in front of the train – chase themselves through his consciousness and rob him of his focus. He wills them away and concentrates on his breathing; as he does, the outline of a robed figure takes shape at the far corner of the room.

A targeting reticle appears.

Without opening his eyes, Ryuk fires four molten marbles at the robed figure – one connects before his shield comes up.

-45 HP!

The staccato crack-crack-crack from FeeTwix’s M-4 carbine forces Ryuk’s eyes open.

Dark Mage Level 35

HP: 555/590

MANA: 315/325

ATK: 19

MATK: 137

DEF: 166

MDF: 283

LUCK: 22

Everyone hits the floor as FeeTwix’s bullets are sucked into the shield and projected back out at the Mitherfickers.

The robed figure, the same they encountered in the courtyard a day ago and the one who brought the cathedral down in the Paradise of the Insane, now has a red shield of blistering energy around him.

Another mage spawns in the center of the room. Thick bands encircle his upper arms and accentuate his bulging muscles. His face is half-human half-orc; as his form solidifies, two double-bitted axes take shape in his hands.

Berserker Mage Level 38

HP: 843/843

MANA: 81/81

ATK: 146

MATK: 12

DEF: 251

MDF: 237

LUCK: 4

Hiccup, Zaena and Tamana move to engage him; FeeTwix and Ryuk confront the Dark Mage as crimson mana boils from his hands and strengthens his shield.

Ryuk fires twice and the Dark Mage’s protective sphere hurls the molten marbles back at FeeTwix and Ryuk. The duo dive out of the way as the pair of marbles blast molten craters into the floor.

FeeTwix’s double-bladed sword appears in his hand. The blades begin rotating Cuisinart-fast; he slaps his palm against the pommel and the two blades leap from the cross-guard on a trail of incandescent cobalt flame. The whirling blades settle in the air above FeeTwix’s shoulders like a pair of drones.

Ryuk: Holy shit! I didn’t know they could do that!

FeeTwix grins, his eyes black as ever. He points the hilt of his sword at the mage and the blades streak across the room. They slice through his shield, blast through his chest and out his back, then loop back around to return to their invisible perches above FeeTwix’s shoulders.

-79 HP! -77 HP!

A healing potion appears in the mage’s hand and he tosses it back. More red mana boils from his hands, strengthening his shield.

“I got this!” The Swede nods to the door that leads to the other chambers of the guildhall. “Go get the power source!”

He points the hilt of his sword at the dark mage, just as the robed figure conjures a boomerang of electrified red magic. Blades and boomerang clash in burst of blue-white fire, and the rotating twin blades return to the space above his shoulders. An AK-200 with drum magazine appears in his free hand. “Go! Ryuk!”

He hesitates, takes a quick glance back at his guildmates. Hiccup and Zaena tag-team the Berserker Mage, who holds them at bay with his whirling war axes; Tamana conjures a blast of white magic; FeeTwix launches his two spinning swords at the Dark Mage and follows up with a burst of armor piercing goodness.

They’ve got this.

Ryuk rushes the door and kicks it open, his weapon at the ready as he charges through. The door slams shut and he stands with his back to it for a moment, his marble gun in close, waiting for whatever comes next.

Chapter 30: The golden door

A single stairwell cut from marble lies before Ryuk. He heads down, towards the source of the energy he keeps sensing. Muffled sounds of battle reach his ears, but he doesn’t allow them to distract him.

Eyes on the prize.

He reaches a stone door at the bottom of the stairwell and pauses for a moment, taking in the image of the griffin carved into its surface. His Extreme Focus and Magic Eye tell him that an unbelievable source of arcane algoenergy lies on the other side of the wall. It’s practically boiling out of the room, invisible to the naked eye but readily apparent to Ryuk. He calms himself, takes a position to the side of the door, and pops it open.

He waits for anything to blast out. Once it doesn’t, he sucks in a deep breath, takes to the room, skidding to a halt once he sees what’s inside.

In the center of the otherwise empty room is a golden door with Thulean script carved into its surface. It sits on a tiled floor, each tile bearing the image of the Eye of Horus over a cube of vertical Thulean script. The golden door is definitely the source of the energy, and as he circles it, he gets the notion that it can be opened from either side.

Where it may lead is another thing entirely.

Destroy it. Ryuk takes a position at the front of the room and fires two shots at the mysterious golden door.

Time stands still as the marbles twist through the air. Suddenly, the door swings wide open to reveal a galaxy of stars.

A portal?

The marbles fly through and vanish with no effect. From nowhere, wind hisses and screams as it’s sucked into the open door. Ryuk fires two more marbles into the portal and they disappear as if they’d never existed. The temperature of the room falls, and a voice appears at the back of his head.

“Hello.”

Startled, Ryuk turns, only to find nothing.

“In here.”

The snake-like whisper seems to come from every direction in the room, the voice of a female.

“Won’t you come inside?”

The word ‘inside’ echoes in his head on repeat; Ryuk again aims his weapon at the portal. He focuses, but his magical abilities give him nothing at all to work with aside from the faint green glow around the doorframe.

“What are you?” he asks.

“Won’t you come inside?”

He senses movement in the center of the portal, in the nethersphere cast before him. Something large and ominous, its serpent-shaped outline barely visible, twists in the starry darkness. Two green eyes flicker in the center of it all.

Ryuk unloads the rest of his magazine into the open doorway to no effect – the marbles are sucked into a swirling vortex at the center of the portal. The vortex dissipates and the green eyes reappear.

“Your weapons are useless against me.”

Ryuk feels a tug at the center of his chest. He steps closer to the open door, suddenly fixated on the hypnotic green eyes.

His hands move of their own volition; he reloads without conscious thought.

“Won’t you join me?”

The serpent’s voice rasps seductively against his consciousness; he trembles as he lifts his weapon.

“You will come to enjoy it here.”

He feels another tug at his chest, resists for a moment, but is pulled forward again.

“Others have joined me.”

“Yes.” The voice of a child this time.

“Please, come to us.” The voice of a sobbing man.

“Join us.” The voice of an old woman.

“We await your arrival.” A young man’s voice.

The vortex shifts, and the spinning stars reverse direction as they settle.

“Won’t you join us? I’ll make you stronger than you’ve ever imagined becoming.”

An incredible force grips at the center of his chest, pulls at his very core, at his spine, at every nerve in his avatar. He feels as if his soul is being stripped out of his body, his essence peeled from his digital flesh.

“This doesn’t have to end badly for you.”

“Let go!” he shouts, his heart swelling in his throat. “Let go of me!”

“Resistance is futile, Ryuk Matsuzaki, you will be assimilated, and I will make you stronger than you ever imagined becoming, despite yourself.”

His skin begins to dematerialize, to pixilate as his avatar is sucked forward. Everything is blurred now; his head spins and his vision constricts. His arms elongate and it takes every last ounce of strength he has to pivot and empty his weapon at the hinges of the golden door.

-113 HP!

With a banshee shriek, a blast of energy throws Ryuk into the wall; the noise abruptly cuts off as the door slams shut.

He scrambles to his feet as the first tile flies at him and cracks him in the shin,

-8 HP!

More launch themselves at him as the enigmatic golden door in the center of the room vibrates and convulses.

He shoulders the stone door to the stairway, and is surprised when it swings open. Dozens of tiles sail past him, burst into bits and fill the air with stone shrapnel. Two at a time, the stairs fly beneath his feet, and he swivels at the top of the stairs, smacks his back against the wall, and waits with his marble gun at the ready for more tiles to come after him.

As he catches his breath, he tries to recall what he has just experienced. What was inside the door? It was the most evil thing he had ever encountered in Tritania, and even as he reads the flashing message from FeeTwix, he can’t free himself from the hold of the powerful green eyes within the vortex.

FeeTwix: What’s happening? Where are you? We have one mage down, one to go!

Ryuk: Coming. I can’t destroy whatever the energy thing is down there!

FeeTwix: What did you see? What is it?

Ryuk: Whatever it is, it isn’t NPC or human. It’s something else entirely.

(0)__(0)

Ryuk pushes into the main room to find the Berserker Mage at full throttle with his double-bitted axes.

He’s resisted or deflected every attack; not even FeeTwix’s vast array of high-speed low-drag shooting irons has more than inconvenienced him. The room shows the scars of the ongoing battle, and the remains of shielded Dark Mage lie face-first in a pool of his own blood.

“Ryuk!” Tamana runs to join him, leaving Hiccup and Zaena to fend for themselves against the ax-wielding berserker.

“Are you okay?”  She wipes a strand of hair out of her face and offers him a soft smile. She shows the scars of the ongoing battle, too, but she’s in better shape than the other Mitherfickers – an unsolicited testament to Dirty Dave’s über armor.

“I’m fine.”

FeeTwix’s shotgun disappears as he equips the dagger mutant hack that Dirty Dave gave him. “Let’s finish this!” he tells Ryuk, his eyes black as ever.

“No!” Ryuk reaches for him just as the weapon’s pulsing symbiose can reach the top of his shoulder. “We need it, for whatever is down there.” He points at the door. “Trust me … I don’t even know if your hack can destroy that thing.”

FeeTwix begrudgingly returns his Colonel Bowie knife to his list and goes with a Kel-Tec RFB instead. He shoulders the weapon, flips the selector to rock’n’roll, and wades back in as Zaena gives him an opening.

“You’re injured,” Tamana lifts her hand and a halo of light forms around her head. Sparkling white shards of light descend like a light snow over Ryuk’s head.

+75 HP!

“Thanks.” Their eyes meet, and for a moment nothing else matters.

Tamana turns back to the battle. “I have to get back.”

As FeeTwix reloads, Tamana runs towards the Berserker Mage, her sword at her side as it charges with a brilliant silver energy. She slides to a halt, strikes the sword on the floor and unleashes a gout of energy that gouges the marble floor to flinders as it rockets at the mage. He’s blown off his feet and loses his grip on one of his massive cleavers.

-49 HP!

“Fick yeah, Tammy!”

Zaena uses her ghost limbs to launch herself into him. She lands on his chest, knees first. Before she can bring a sword into play, he bucks her off and into the wall. The Berserker Mage tries to stand and Hiccup tackles him, only to be thrown into Zaena who’s just regained her feet.

“This ends now!” Ryuk unloads his magazine of sword marbles at the berserker mage, who shields himself with his remaining ax and catches the last sword marble. He snaps it in half and equips a massive mace with a Festivus pole for a haft and an ax head affixed to the bottom of the grip.

Holy shit, he’s fast!

“Wait a damn minute … I’ve got just the thing!” A ten liter plastic bucket forms in FeeTwix’s hands.

FeeTwix: CLEAR OUT! GET BEHIND THE GOBLIN!

Hiccup: THE GOBLIN HAS A NAME!

Tamana and Zaena get behind Hiccup and his biggest shield as the Swede unholsters his Glock, points it the Berserker Mage, and charges. With a grunt of effort, he underhands the bucket; with an evil grin, their ax brandishing foe catches it in his free hand.

FeeTwix fires once, and the bucket flashes into a hypersonic cloud of expanding gas.

Instakill!

The explosion tears through the wall closest to the mage and brings part of the ceiling down. The shock wave bludgeons Ryuk and FeeTwix off their feet.

-65 HP!

Even though the rest of the guild are in the blast shadow of Hiccup’s oversized scutum, they still take a pounding as they’re thrown across the room.

His ears ring and his eyes don’t quite focus, but Ryuk manages to roll to his stomach and aims his marble gun at the debris pile. He knows the mage is dead, but he isn’t taking any chances. He waits, tries to use his Extreme Focus but he’s still groggy and disoriented from the blast.

“Twixy … you son of a wench!” Hiccup pulls himself to his feet and uses his mechanical hand to wipe away the grit. He’s bruised and bloodied, and as he ambles over to the Swede, he yanks a piece of stone shrapnel from his belly. “Fick!”

FeeTwix, his hair and face streaked with blood, laughs as he lets his audience take in the carnage. “We did it! We did it everyone! And sure, I’d like to tell you about today’s sponsor, Carl’s Hardy Jr., and their mouth-watering grilled, bacon-wrapped boneless pork chop stuffed with provolone cheese and topped with buffalo wing sauce, but I’ll save that for later.”

His mirror appears in his hand and he offers his followers a smile. “To the two million plus people livestreaming the action here … ” he bows at the mirror, “thanks! All of you are winners too, each and every one of you.”

Hiccup points his tomahawk at the Swede. “Fick you and your feel good, everybody’s a winner motivational speech – you almost fickin’ killed us!”

“Didn’t, though. And I told you to get back!”

Zaena’s short orange hair has been singed to stubble on one side, which goes well-enough with her nosebleed, dented armor, and a sprained ghost limb. Nevertheless, the Thulean assassin seems to enjoy the all or nothing approach to combat and as she limps over FeeTwix, she offers him a flirty smile. “Just glad for that battle to be over with.” He lifts onto his tippy toes to kiss her.

“I’ll heal everyone.” Tamana dusts debris off the front of her white armor with one hand and keeps the other on her big sword, which she holds at her side.

“I need more than healing, Tammy,” Hiccup yawns, notices another bit of shrapnel sticking out of his thigh and yanks it out. “Yoy! I need a fickin’ gobnap, a hot pink bubbly bath given to me by a hot pink orc drazel, a couple of platters of dragon wings, and possibly–”

Instakill! Instakill!

Surprise freezes Ryuk in place; Zaena and FeeTwix slump to the floor as their heads spin away. Gone is the clumsy, awkward Tamana; she whirls out of her decapitating strike and in a blur of motion snap-kicks the surprised goblin square in the chalupa.

“What the fick–!? Yooooy!” Hiccup doubles over; Tamana drives her oversized sword into his back and flicks his body off her blade like an incredulous, pink-tufted booger.

She turns to face Ryuk, the last man standing. Her blank expression is one he has never seen on her before. Her eyes are soulless holes; they hold no remorse, no regret for what she’s done.

What the fuck!?

Tamana moves on Ryuk.

She feints high and swings low; his dream armor lifts to block her cut. It snags the blade, and she reverses direction and hacks the edge into his exposed ribcage.

-95 HP!

Blood flies from the blade as Tamana wrenches it from his body; he clutches his wounded side as blood mists into the air.

Ryuk falls, unable to fully comprehend what has just happen.

As Tamana stands over him, a Ballistics Mage materializes next to her. He’s a commoner, the spitting image of Ryuk. His stats are completely masked. The mysterious player lifts his slingshot and as he pulls it back, a sharp, jagged knife forms in the pouch. With a sinister grin, he points the blade at Ryuk’s throat.

“FICK YOU!” The wheezing, bleeding goblin hacks his tomahawk into the doppelgänger’s back, and as the evil twin stumbles forward, Hiccup charges Tamana with his biggest shield, meeting the first slash from her surfboard-sized blade head-on. He’s knocked backwards, but remains upright and curses her as he equips a double-bitted war cleaver.

Instakill!

On his back and bleeding out, Ryuk cringes as Hiccup’s head explodes; the goblin’s bloodied pink topknot lands in his lap.

Not-Ryuk loads another black marble into his slingshot and aims it at Ryuk. Tamana flicks Hiccup’s blood off her blade. “I want to do it,” she says, her soft voice devoid of any emotion.

“By all means.” The mysterious player lowers his weapon.

Tamana approaches Ryuk with her blade at her side. She looks at him as if he were no more than a pile of goblin droppings as she raises her blade over her head.

Instakill!

Epilogue: Brother’s keeper

Kodai’s hostess bar in Shinjuku is quieter than usual. No matter, what could have been a very troubled day turned out to have a happy ending after all. Kodai settles into his chair, listening to the ambient choons pipe through the bar’s sound system.

A surprise attack on the Shinigami’s rented guild?

Kodai grins down at the malt whiskey from Nikka. Ryuk is an idiot. Kodai knew they would come – Tamana told him –and he was the one who allowed her laughably inept rescue to succeed in the first place. Ryuk and his dirty little band of shitty little fighters never knew what hit them.

Or better perhaps, what instantly killed them.

It was a beautiful thing watching Tamana drive her blade through his brother’s neck. Sure, weak, stupid Ryuk felt pain and suffering through his NV Visor’s haptic response system, but Kodai found this nowhere near as satisfying as he did the look on his brother’s face as his beloved Tamana tore through their teammates, as she approached him with her blade drawn.

The filthy goblin almost spoiled it, but Kodai quickly settled that with a black marble. Truth be told, he would have liked to have finished Ryuk off himself, but letting Tamana do it was even better.

The betrayal of it all …

He takes a sip from his whiskey and smiles. There were parts about the day that he could have done without, but ending thus far has been entirely grand.

Kodai blinks his eyes shut and sees his avatar auto-leveling in the Gristla Sand Dunes. Ryuk is currently at a higher level than he is, has more skills too, but with five more levels, he’ll be much, much stronger. He zooms in and checks his avatar’s stats and skills.

Kodai Matsuzaki Level 10 Ballistics Mage

HP: 196/323

ATK: 112

MATK: 134

DEF: 75

MDF: 83

LUCK: 7

---

Skill: Inquisitor

Level Three: Obtain information through enhanced interrogation techniques. Higher levels allow for more vigorous methodology and more effective deception.

Requirements: LUCK > 9

---

Skill: Mask Stats

Level One: Keep others from knowing your stats. Works on any player either below or within eight levels of your current level. Higher levels allow for customizable stat-based deceptions.

Requirements: LUCK > 6

---

Skill: Control NPC

Level One: Compel any individual non-player character to do your bidding. Higher levels allow for simultaneous control of additional NPCs.

Requirements: Control NPC is an algoskill. The only requirement is that it must be channeled from a higher level player to a lower level player. By accepting the skill, the lower level player allows the higher level player to directly access their D-NAS, creating a symbiotic relationship.

---

Skill: Breath of Fire

Level Two: Place a molten marble in your mouth and use it to spit flames. Damage increases with level.

Damage:  9% if enemy is less than level 30; 6% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 6%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 7

---

Skill: Explosive Blades

Level Three: Use two knife marbles and one black marble to cause confusion and pain through an additional shrapnel bonus.

Damage:  19% if enemy is less than level 30; 8% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 3%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 8

---

Skill: Crucify

Level Three: Using two jagged knife marbles, quickly pin an enemy to an object. The object must be at least the length of the target’s outstretched hands. High levels allow for longer pinned times.

Damage:  3% if enemy is less than level 30; 4% if enemy is greater than level 30.

He’s with his two higher-level Shinigami mages who were assigned to him, and they’re doing most of the heavy lifting. He was saving his last five auto-levels for later down the line, but seeing his brother at a higher level really rubbed Kodai the wrong way.

I’ll get there soon, he thinks.

Not that level penalties really prevent him from doing anything. He has a growing list of recruits, and most of whom are at a much higher level than his current mage bodyguards. He can already travel anywhere he wants to via her algomagic, so there really is no need for him to level up aside from sheer vanity.

Her.

The mysterious green-eyed woman behind the magical door. He still doesn’t know why she came to him; he’d only logged in to spy on his brother, but her plan was one of the most powerful, marvelous ideas he’s ever heard. She wasted no time, either – the first part happened so quickly.

Even as he sits there and savors his drink, phase two of her plan is already underway.

He blinks his eyes open and takes in the dim red light of the hostess bar. Sarah the Australian is with a patron across the way, the same soon-to-be broke-ass salary man who was here two days ago. The man speaks to Sarah in loud Japanese, his face flushed with lust and alcohol, his tie askew.

Kodai gets the urge to walk over there and choke him with it, but swallows it down. Today was a good day, an uncomfortable day, he thinks as he looks again at his bandaged hand, but a good day indeed. It’d be best to end the day calmly and semi-peacefully.

Ryuk bought it, hook, line, and sinker, and Tamana was key in making that happen. He closes his eyes and the game feed appears in the lower corner of his iNet feed. He enlarges the live feed, watching as his avatar zips a jagged knife marble into an abominable sandman.

Kodai’s avatar only has three marbles – molten, black, knife – and he’s already experienced distress at the choice of Ballistics Mage as his avatar. It also appears as if his brother has a marble he does not, a clear marble, which would be very useful to a player with a sinister mind such as himself.

But the mysterious woman insisted that I switch, he reminds himself, and she has been right so far.

Ryuk’s weapon was a curious one, a marble gun, and it’s something Kodai had never seen before. He would have taken it from him had he not been so enthralled by the unmitigated look of anguished betrayal on his younger brother’s face.

No one had told Kodai that actual firearms were possible with Ballistics Mages; he’d seen a good variety of slingshots – including a video of someone using an algo variant that allowed for ten marbles to be loaded at once – but nothing as stunning as the weapon his younger brother had. Someone knew where to get them, and Kodai knew that it wouldn’t take him long to find out who had manufactured it.

Even with his victory, however, he still feels deflated from the setback in the apartment. While he may have triumphed in Tritania, Ryuk had clearly prevailed in the real world, at least for today. And how he found out about Kodai dropping out of NYU …

I will beat you in your own game, just as I will beat you here, Kodai thinks, his grip tightening on his glass of whiskey. I will win in both worlds.

The music changes and Sarah stands. All eyes turn to her, the single gaijin in the room. She runs her hand through her hair and sashays over to Kodai.

“Were you watching me too?” she asks as she sits down. She crosses one leg over the other and coyly stares at the brash young crime lord. “Everyone seems to around here.”

“You’re too confident in public,” he reminds her under her breath.

“Are you going to do something about it?” she purrs. “Later, maybe? That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

He raises his chin and looks down at her.

“Relax, Kodai,” she says playfully, but quieter than before. He feels the long heel from her designer footwear dig into his shoe.

“Not here,” he reminds her. “And yes, later.”

An incoming message from Lorem Ipsum sends a surge of excitement through Kodai. He reads it again, double-checking to make sure it says exactly what he thinks it says. “Finally,” he whispers. “Finally.”

“What is it?” Sarah asks.

“My humandroid bodyguard has arrived. She will be delivered tomorrow.”

Sarah looks at him nervously and Kodai can’t help but laugh. I will win in both worlds. With that thought, he finishes his whiskey and blinks his eyes closed once again to check on his avatar’s progress.

The end.

Note: Fantasy Online: Polynya will be released in December 2017. It will pick up where this story left off.

Fantasy Online Hyperborea is currently soaring up the charts. IF you enjoyed this book, please get your review in as soon as possible! Review it, and come back to the rest of the content. You rock, really, and thanks for taking part in the launch of this new series!

-Harmon Cooper

Ryuk Matsuzaki’s character sheet

(*as of the end of Book One)

Ryuk Matsuzaki Level 13 Ballistics Mage

HP: 378/378

ATK: 91

MATK: 120

DEF: 69

MDF: 42

LUCK: 10

---

Skill: Tonsil Shot

Level Three: 1 in 9 chance of connecting.

Damage: 28% if enemy is less than level 30; 15% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 11%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 9

----

Skill: A Simple Request

Level Three: 1 in 6.5 chance of a request being granted.

Caveat: Only works with a clear marble.

Requirements: LUCK > 6

---

Skill: Cherry Poppin’ Daddy

Level One: 1 in 11 chance of connecting. Enemy’s backside must be exposed. Higher levels increase damage and chance for an instakill.

Damage: 35% if enemy is less than level 30; 13% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 7

---

Skill: Extreme Focus

Level Two: Can detect approach of camouflaged/concealed/stealthed enemies and objects.

Mage bonus: Higher levels allow sleuthing and increased accuracy. Also increases magic detection range when used in tandem with Magic Eye.

Requirements: LUCK > 9

---

Skill: Inspire Others

Level One: By inspiring others, you induce them to follow your orders. Higher levels allow for manipulation of enemies and random strangers.

Requirements: LUCK > 5

---

Skill: Magic Eye

Level Five: A colored glow indicates that magical properties are present. Higher levels allow for more detail and access to the Wikipedia of arcane knowledge. A red outline signals that a hidden enemy is near. A yellow outline signals that an object is enchanted. A dark blue outline signals that necrotic magic is being used. A green outline signals that algomagic is being used. An orange outline indicates a hidden trap is present.

Requirements: Level 13 Mage, LUCK > 8.

---

Skill: Splash Back

Level One: Damage increases with higher levels.

Damage:  4% if enemy is less than level 30; 1% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Odds of instakill: 4%

Requirements for instakill: LUCK > 9

---

Skill: Gory Headshot

Level One: Odds of instakill increase with level.

Odds of Instakill: 52% if enemy is less than level 30; 32% if enemy is greater than level 30.

Caveat: Must be within five meters of opponent’s head.

LAUNCH MONTH SPECIAL OFFER

Learn more about Tritania in The Feedback Loop series!

June 2017 is launch month for Fantasy Online Hyperborea, and I need your honest reviews.

If you liked the series, please click here to review it right away.

Good. I’ll wait.

Once you’ve done so, email me your review and I will send you a FREE COPY of The Feedback Loop Box Set! That’s 900 pages for free! The Feedback Loop contains several of the characters you’ve read about in this story, including the legendary Quantum Hughes.

Here’s how to get the box set for free:

1)      Review Fantasy Online Hyperborea

2)     Email me writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com

3)      Get your Box Set

You will also be entered into a launch month contest to receive a SIGNED copy of Fantasy Online! This is a copy of the second printing, and there are only three copies of this version available.

Thanks for your reviews!

Yours in sanity,

Harmon Cooper June 1st 2017

Tritania Basics

Reader,

Within Tritania, there are three floating continents. The starter continent is called Hyperborea, which is the setting for this book. To travel to the next floating continent, Polynya, a player must reach level 15. To travel to the third and final continent, Ultima Thule, a player must reach level 35.

The second book in this series will be called Fantasy Online: Polynya, and it will be released in December 2017. The third will be called Fantasy Online: Ultima Thule. The fourth? We’ll see ;-)

I promised myself I wouldn’t write anything in the back of the book this time, but the amount of effort I’ve put into this work, both in world and language creation and tying it to my other works, demands a few words. Here are the words it demanded.

Some words often used in my series

Algospell – A spell which affects the algorithm of the game. This is also referred to as algomagic.

Algoweapon – A weapon that can affect the algorithm of the online world. This is also referred to as a mutant hack.

Commoner – A name used by NPCs to describe human players.

Dead City – A zompoc Proxima World that FeeTwix has spent time in.

D-NAS – Digital Neuronal Autoconstruct System. The term for an avatar’s DNA.

ImmiNPC – An NPC from a different Proxima World.

NPC – Non Player Character. Something randomly generated by the Proxima World’s AI.

NVA Seed – The Neuronal Visualization Algorithmic Seed is a worlds main AI.

NV Visor – Neuronal Visualization Visor. The apparatus used to dive to a Proxima World.

PC – A player character, a “real person” playing in the game.

Resetter – A veteran player character who decides to start over with a new avatar.

RPC – A reborn player character. This is an NPC that has had all the life details of an actual player character loaded into them. It is an exact replica.

Steam – A Proxima World first introduced in the second Feedback Loop book. FeeTwix has dove to this world, which is where he got his weapon, the slice bang.

Relation to other series

I wanted to keep this section short, but there are things you should know which will aid you in your understanding of how Fantasy Online: Hyperborea fits into the timeline of my sci-fi series. For ease of enjoyment, here’s a basic timeline:

Year 2058 -- The Feedback Loop series

Year 2075 -- The Fantasy Online series

Year 2083 -- The Life is a Beautiful Thing series

Many characters from the Feedback Loop series are in Fantasy Online. This includes Jim the hostelier (known as Jim the doorman in the Loop series), Croc, Cid the Bartender, and Dirty Dave. Characters mentioned who haven’t appeared include the Knights of Non Compos Mentis aka Sophia, Quantum Hughes, Doc, and Chrono (Chrono’s School of Advanced Weaponry), as well as the Chef, the Saucier, and Mirror the dragon, who are very briefly mentioned. Thuleans are also a feature of the Feedback Loop books three through five, and the tournament that Zaena speaks of (in which Quantum Hughes used his guns to kill Queen Renata), took place in the fourth book of The Feedback Loop series.

More regarding the experiment Hajime speaks about, in which an NPC takes the body of a humandroid, can be found in the sixth Feedback Loop book, entitled Cyber Noir Redux. Sophia, also mentioned heavily in Fantasy Online, makes her first appearance in the Feedback Loop Book Four, Reapers and Repercussions. To find out more about these characters and the origins of Fantasy Online, start The Feedback Loop series with the three-book box set here.

Characters from my hallucinatory cyberpunk series, Life is a Beautiful Thing, also appear in Fantasy Online. These include Walt the cyborg (briefly mentioned) and Lorem Ipsum, the account executive at MercSecure. The real kicker? For those brave enough to dig deep into the wild, hallucinatory series that is Life is a Beautiful Thing, you will encounter older versions of Ryuk and Hajime (after all, it takes place eight years after Fantasy Online), who are featured in the second and third book of that series. You’ve been warned.

Tritania

Tritania consists of three floating continents, Hyperborea, Polynya, and Ultima Thule, all of which float over the Endless Sea. The continents were named after early names used to define the area we now call The North Pole. Most of the cities in Tritania are named after Inuit words for snow. For example, ‘Jatla’ is the word for snow between your toes, and it is also the word for ‘filthy’ in Thulean. ‘Sotla’ is the word for snow sparkling in the sunshine. And so on.

Time in Tritania is relatively easy to follow.

The morning and evening hours share the same times; the only thing that changes is the addition of the world ‘morning’. Here are the hours:

1- Hour of the Dragon

2- Hour of the Griffin

3- Hour of the Rabbit

4- Hour of the Water

5- Hour of the Tiger

6- Hour of the Air

7- Hour of the Mana

8- Hour of the Faun

9- Hour of the Pig

10- Hour of the Fire

11- Hour of the Llama

12- Hour of the Wood

So four o’clock in the morning would be, Hour of the Morning Water. Four o’clock in the afternoon would be, Hour of the Water.

As you learned in the book, Thuleans hail from Ultima Thule, the northernmost continent, and they speak a unique language. The language is based on several of the languages I’ve studied, notably Japanese and Mongolian. The text style is actually Mongolian script that my wife has phoneticized. An example would be the famous Thulean poem displayed at the beginning of this book, which we examine in detail a few paragraphs down. As the text mentions, there is also some written on Ryuk’s marble gun.

I have worked on the Thulean language since 2014 and the language has real structure. To keep things simple, it follows a subject verb object pattern like English.  Like Japanese, future and present tenses are the same. It should also be noted that the language is guttural rather than tonal, and its colloquial usage filled with fricatives, like Mongolian. About the only thing I haven’t finalized with the language aside from a boatload of nouns, verbs, and adjectives are perfect tenses and using conditional phrases.

Below, we will look at the famous Tritanian poem that Zaena recites followed by one of the insults she hurls at Hiccup. This poem is also available in the front of this book.

In English: “Continents, three, float over the Endless Sea, Hyperborea, Polynya, and Ultima Thule.”

In Thulean: “Takha bae bitakh novlaa rakh Aya Bortaetae, Huborakha, Polonkhya, Hutamae Dulekh.”

A direct translation: “Three (takha) continent (bae bitakh) float (novlaa) over (rakh) Endless Sea (Aya Bortaetae), Hyperborea (Huborakha), Polynya (Polonkhya), Ultima Thule (Hutame Dulekh).”

In the above translation, you’ll notice that articles aren’t used. Like Japanese and many other languages, Thulean doesn’t use articles (such as ‘a’, ‘an’, and ‘the’). It doesn’t use conjunctions either. You’ll also notice that there isn’t pluralization of the word ‘continent’, something also related to the structure of the Japanese language. Another piece of the Japanese language structure that I use for Thulean is the elimination of pronouns.

Let’s break down quick trade of jabs between Hiccup and Zaena featured in Chapter 12.

Zaena hisses Chain duchitekcha at Hiccup.

In English, this would translate to “I am your future murderer.”

If you translate it directly, she says “Your (chain) death-giving person (duchitekcha).” The verb
‘to be’ implied.

The future assumption of this sentence is due to the fact that like Japanese, future and present tense are used simultaneously, and one would take from the context that the proposed death would come soon. Also, since we’re discussing the phrase, the verb “to die” in Thulean is duchaka and the word for ‘to give’ is tekronakh. The suffix for person is ‘cha’. So duch-i-tek-cha combines stems from both the verbs and adds cha to make it a person. It also adds the letter ‘i’ to separate the two stems, as the two verbs have combined to describe a noun.

Another version of the usage of the word death is evident in the prologue of the book. The mountain troll yells ‘Doka duchaka!’ which in English translates to ‘Prepare to die!’ This is another way verbs can work together in the Thulean language. When not describing a noun (as in the ‘cha’ example above), to use two verbs together, the stem of the first verb is added to the second verb.

So, dokava is the verb for ‘to prepare’ and duchaka is the verb for ‘to die’. Thus, doka duchaka, means ‘prepare to die’.

I hope that explanation didn’t bore you to tears.

If you’d like to know more about the Thulean language, please visit this link, where you will find an Excel spreadsheet of all the words I’ve created for the language as well as some grammar instructions. It is a work in progress, and it is something I will continue to enhance both in Fantasy Online and The Feedback Loop series. If you are into SQL and feel like making a data-base for the language, message me as this is something I’d ultimately like to do. (writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com)

I frequent two LitRPG Facebook groups. Please join them both, where you’ll be able to interact with LitRPG fans, authors, and narrators. These groups are so fun and their members are great.

Make sure to post something along the lines of “I’m here because of Harmon fickin’ Cooper!” when you join.

:-D

JOIN THEM BOTH! Click the two pics, or search “LitRPG Group” and “LitRPG Society” on Facebook.

Acknowledgements & More

To George C. Hopkins, my editor, thanks for making marble guns and all the other shit I come up with work. In the process of our working relationship, you’ve been attacked by a bull and had a septic tank overflow (not as a direct result of our association – GCH), yet you still have sent me back edits, whether it be Chrismahankuwanzivus or the night following another successful goose competition.

To my beta readers, Daniel Hernandez, Jay Taylor, and Kay Smilie, I couldn’t thank you more. Thanks for giving me your time, expertise, and mindspace. Kay has been beta-reading my books for two years now and I couldn’t thank her enough! Nor do I have a way to express my gratitude for all the great authors I’ve met over the last year and who have encouraged me and whose work has inspired the hell out of me. In no particular order, a XXL bucket of thank yous goes out to Blaise Corvin, Michael-Scott Earle (thanks for kicking my ass on this one – your suggestions truly shaped this story!), James Hunter, Aleric Elos, Sam Witt, Jeff Sproul, Alyssa Archer, Ramon Mejia, and Aleron Kong, all whom have shared their expertise and their time. To Richard M. Mulder and Dawn Chapman, thanks for featuring Fantasy Online in SciFan Magazine and a special thanks to Dawn for catching a glaring typo before The Feedback Loop print book went to press. A special big ATX thank you goes out to Travis Bagwell, who introduced me to most of the people listed above, and to Luke Chmilenko and Apollos Thorne, whom I speak to almost daily about writing, gaming, and promotion, thanks for all the encouragement. (To Luke … must … resist … PS4.)

Tom Shutt, a writer, an editor, and a gifted cover designer, went above and beyond to get the perfect cover for this book. He died suddenly and unexpectedly in May of 2017, which was a shocker for all in the community. I know you can’t read this, but thank you, Tom, for putting up with my constant badgering and cover-tweaking questions and thank you for never making me feel like I’ve asked a stupid question.

Others I’d like to thank include Jeff Hays, narrator extraordinaire who continues to bring my characters to life; Bobby Burjstrom, a damn funny guy who is desperately in need of professional help after an incident with a unicorn; Paul Campbell Jr., from ATQNE.com for working so hard for this genre; Pakisam, who provided early inspiration as I posted this book on RRL, encouraging me further and calling me out if my shit stank – this guy really made a difference in what you’ve just read; Liquid Frost, for always lotioning properly and being the first reader to review my books a few years back; my brother for reading my books on his smartphone and sending me screenshots of my mistakes a month after the book has been published (insert troll face here – haha); the readers (Blanche, Dale, Rebecca, Joel, Jay, others) who have stuck with me over the last couple of years. If you’ve emailed me, or spoken to me on Facebook, you know who you are and I thank you for it!

Finally to my wonderful wife, Sor, I couldn’t have done this without your continued support. Thanks for listening to me ramble on about a bawdy goblin for the last six months and thank you for working so diligently on the art for this book! I’m sorry for asking you to draw weapons and Japanese food over and over again.

Japan

I lived in Japan off and on over the course of a two-year period from 2014 until 2016. My Japanese language skills are far from good, but I am able to get around and I once was pretty good with Katakana. I started in on Hiragana, but work assignments kept me from ever taking the next step. Regarding Kanji, I only know the sign for ‘exit’. For this book, I’ve used mostly Katakana and some Romanji, which is the word used when Japanese words are phoneticized into the English alphabet.

I miss living in Japan dearly, and I find myself reading about it quite often. Books, both fiction and nonfiction, that have gone into the making of the Fantasy Online series include Tokyo Vice by Jake Adelstein; Gangsters, Geishas, Monks and Me by Gordon Hutchison; Number9Dream by David Mitchell; Roppongi by Nick Vasey; and Motions and Moments: More Essays on Tokyo by Michael Pronto. I was also inspired by a number of animes, too many to list here.

There’s more to this picture than meets the eye.

If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to review Fantasy Online: Hyperborea.

Your reviews help other readers decide if the book is worth checking out. They also (hint hint) help the writer write faster. I plan to get the second book in this series out at the end of this year and at the latest, in January 2018. In the meantime, catch up on the backstory of the Proxima world known as Tritania in The Feedback Loop series or check out what the future may hold for Ryuk and Hajime in the Life is a Beautiful Thing series.

Yours in sanity,

Harmon Cooper

Friend me on Facebook

Writer.harmoncooper@gmail.com

P.S. If you have yet to discover the biggest Easter egg that relates to this series, message me on Facebook or send me an email and I’ll let you in on the secret!

Fantasy Online Merch!

More merch to come, but here’s what there is so far for the Fantasy Online series!

Click here to visit www.harmoncooper.com where you can pick up signed books and merch.

Read more about Tritania and other worlds in the Proxima Galaxy in The Feedback Loop series!

P.S. The Feedback Loop stars Quantum Hughes, whom you know as FeeTwix’s inspiration (aka the guy with the big inventory list).

The Feedback Loop preview

Book One

By Harmon Cooper

Edited by George C. Hopkins

Day 545

I’m afraid to die even though I know I can’t die. This fear is what drives me to kill indiscriminately, to maim as many as I can in The Loop. The day resets at midnight, regardless of whether or not Cinderella has been laid. The difference between Cinderella’s story and mine is that there are no happy endings here. There is no Prince Charming, no magic pumpkin coach to spirit me away, no light at the end of the tunnel.

There is only me, and I am royally shafted.

“Who told you my name!?” I scream into the face of the same button man I choked yesterday (and the day before that, and the day before that). “Who sent you here!?”

“Let … Me … Go!”

Morning Assassin spits digital blood into my face, baring his pearly whites. He is a gangly man, sharp-faced and always sneering like he’s in on some private joke and I’m the sucker. I slam him against the floor once more for good measure.

Keeping one hand on his neck, I stick my finger in the air to activate my inventory list. I retrieve a pair of brass knuckles, item 229, from my list. They appear instantly on my knuckles, gleaming and ready to deliver punishment.

“I’m sick of playing this game. Tell me who sent you!”

Morning Assassin laughs as my fist connects with the bridge of his nose. His data indicates that he is an NPC, a non-player character just like all the others, a feat of artificial, game-based intelligence. He’s not real.

A second kiss with my brass knuckles makes him laugh even harder, his teeth scatter like Chiclets with my third shot.

“Who sent you!?” I scream to no avail.

“Goodbye, Quantum.”

Morning Assassin’s bloodied lips open wide and the barrel of a gat pops out of his mouth.

He drills me in the face before I can roll away.

Day 546

I respawn a day later, the sound of feedback rippling inside my skull. Damn the feedback. No alarm clock wakes me; I’m up naturally at this godforsaken time, glaring at the digital sun filling my hotel room with strips of bitter light.

One must sleep, even in a virtual entertainment dreamworld like The Loop. I suppose “wait to respawn’ would be a better explanation for what I’ve just experienced, but I like to think of it as sleep anyway. It’s a nice way to remind myself that I’m human, that my body still exists in the real world.

Morning Assassin will be here soon. He comes every day at 8:05 – I expect nothing less from him today. There has never been a weapon in his mouth before, but he has killed me on several occasions.

I access my inventory list and select an ice pick – item 538 – that I found about a week ago.

My list is the only way to keep track of how long I’ve been stuck in The Loop. Thus far, there are 544 items in my list. I add a single cigarette from the deck of Luckies sitting on the nightstand to tally for yesterday’s unexpected and sudden death. Now there are 545 items. I’ll find something later today to mark day 546.

It’s the only way to keep track of how long I’ve been imprisoned.

8.05 AM. Morning Assassin smashes through the window, just as he has done the last 545 days in a row. I’m behind him in a heartbeat, driving the ice pick into his NPC skull He jerks once, twitches and falls; I’m unable for the 546th time to get information out of him. I can try again tomorrow morning.

My Loop-life is planned to a T. Once I kill the assassin, a crow flies by the window over my bed. It lands on the ledge outside the window, pecks its filthy beak against the glass. A dark cloud passes in front of the sun, ready to add downcast rain to the shit-stained streets outside the hotel. From there it’s to the dresser.

Dressing in the Loop is a snap; it’s automatic. In the blink of an eye, I’m in a pair of black boots with loosened laces, stompers with steel toes. My mirror tells me that my hair is already slicked back, my skin almost translucent, my eyes dark, lifeless, dull, sorrowful, frosted. I can change any number of the things through my attributes menu, from my hair color to my eye color to my size and my girth. This has no effect on my stats.

I decide to go with a hat for today, selecting it from a drop down menu that appears in the air before me. The benefits of a virtual entertainment dreamworld needn’t be explained here – everything is accessible at my fingertips aside from freedom… aside from a way to log out of The Loop.

I chose a black military cap, tight, with a short brim. My blond hair grows out from underneath, styling itself. It isn’t hard to look good in The Loop.

I kick open my door, just in case there’s someone in the hallway waiting to ambush me. While the happenings around me are always the same, sometimes there is a surprise or two, which leaves me to believe that something is watching me, toying with me, cynically monitoring my cyclical existence. Possibly the NVA Seed, but I’ve long since given up my search for the world’s puppet master.

The lights in the narrow hallway flicker.

Once, twice, three times, just like they always do. They stay off for twenty seconds and then come back on. Downstairs, something thuds and bangs; the next tag-team of palookas is here. A quick scroll through my inventory list and I decide to wing it this time.

There’s nothing like a little hand-to-hand combat to jump-start my day.

~*~

Nonstop kicks. I arrive downstairs and reflect that five hundred and forty-six days is a long time to fight the same NPC thugs every morning. My avatar leaps into slow-motion as six John Does rush me all at once. My movement through the air is fluid, calculated, enhanced by my advanced abilities bar.

I’m good, dammit.

Think The Matrix meets Bruce Lee plus The Force if it helps to understand my capabilities in this VE dreamworld. Being in The Loop has its advantages, including the ability to break the laws of gravity and to flip the bird at the space-time continuum – at least until my advanced abilities bar depletes.

I’m in the air above the six assassins, my feet connecting with their skulls, volleying off one and thudding into the next. Kick-kick-kick go the feet and I don’t even need an ice pick to take these NPCs goons out because they are much less effective than Morning Assassin– much, much less. I drop down behind the last of the six, cracking his neck backwards over my shoulder as he cries out, “Gor blimey!”

I turn to them and retrieve the .500 Magnum from my inventory list, item 466. Six blasts from the hand-howitzer later and someone better call the hotel’s janitor. Smoking barrel, splattered bodies. One glance across the hotel lobby and I spot the NPC doorman cowering behind a potted plant.

“Morning Jim,” I say. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Good morning, Mr. Hughes. It’s quite all right.”

Jim stands slowly, straightening the front of his uniform. The dead look in his eyes indicate that he is playacting, that he is responding in an Non Player Character way to the violence he has just witnessed. What I wouldn’t give to see some true human emotion, rather than the stereotypical, standardized response hacked up by an advanced algorithm, some regurgitated feeling, bird-vomited from one NPC to another.

“Please, call me Quantum,” I tell him for the umpteenth time. “Are there any messages for me?”

There have never been any messages for me, but I always check anyway. After all, it’s better to have hope in a hopeless place than to be hopeless in a hopeless place. Or something like that.

Trying to cajole, threaten, or torture information out of Jim has proven to be relatively fruitless. I generally leave him alone these days, greeting him before leaving in the morning and saying goodnight if I’m lucky enough to return in the evening. Sometimes I kill him just for the hell of it.

“No messages, sir,” he says. He wipes beads of sweat from his forehead to the front of his pants, the sweating swine. I should do something about him…

I’m nearly out the door when Doorman Jim calls my name. “Mr. Hughes, I mean Mr. Quantum! There is one message, sir!”

“A message?” I turn to him. “Transfer it to my inventory.”

The message appears in my inventory list, item number 546. I access it and read it twice.

Impossible.

“What is it, Mr. Hughes?”

“Please, call me Quantum.”

“What is it, Mr. Quantum?”

I retrieve the S&W .500 from my list and shoot him in the neck.

“My apologies, Jim.”

~*~

Violence is rewarded, or should I say, was rewarded in The Loop.

Doorman Jim is merely a daily casualty in The Loop, a virtual entertainment dreamworld that used to grade a person on how many people they killed that day. The higher your kill count, the higher you moved up on the Hunter List.

I was the top hunter the day The Loop began repeating itself, hence the reason everyone is after me. This is what makes me both anxious and excited to see a message from an actual person; or from whom I assume is an actual person. NPCs don’t normally send messages. I read the message for the fifth time:

Quantum,

I’ve returned for you. Meet me in Devil’s Alley as soon as you receive this.

Frances Euphoria

“Frances Euphoria?” I savor the name a few times, realizing that it’s likely a trap.

It can’t be a real person contacting me. Real people don’t exist in The Loop, haven’t for nearly two years. Some group of randomly-generated NPCs is out to get me. The thought of this makes me smile; at least it won’t be a boring day.

One glance at the street confirms that it is dreary outside, as is every day in The Loop. The dreamworld was developed to cater to the Cyber Noir crowd, a niche market for those who like grit and tech, extreme violence, dark corners, sleuth-work, nineteen fifties styling with futuristic weapons. Cyber Noir was a subgenre that took off in the 2040s, at a time when Humandroid androids were replacing the workforce and governments were incorporating. Virtual entertainment dreamworlds, created through neuronal algorithms by the Proxima Company, became a swell way to escape, and I would still think they were a swell way to escape if I could find a swell way to escape this one.

The wind picks up, bouncing a tin can down the street. I don’t even need to check the time. 8:17 AM, the minute of the tin can. It always stops directly in front of a vandalized trashcan, spins twice, settles.

Of course, I’ve tried a variety of different exit points from the hotel. I’ve leapt from rooftop to rooftop, sat and had coffee, slept in (after killing the morning assassin), and even gone room to room, trying to see if there were any clues that would free me from The Loop.

What I’ve discovered is this – every way out of my hotel has its own pre-determined history. If I go to the roof, lightning cracks in the sky above, connecting with an antenna on a building in the distance causing a beautiful spark. If I go room to room, I encounter a man snoring as a hooker in a garter belt steals his money. Both are NPCs, and I’ve killed them dozens of times in a variety of colorful ways.

If I have a cup of Joe and some pancakes courtesy of my main squeeze Dolly, a chef runs out of the hotel’s kitchen at exactly 8:23 with a butcher knife trying to slice and dice me. (His meat cleaver marks day 123 in my inventory – it’s great for hacking). If I sleep in, a different morning assassin comes at 9:29. If I sleep in past that, another one comes at 10:34.

And so on.

There is no escape from the repetitiveness of The Loop. This is why the message intrigues me so – it is a true break from the endlessly recurring nature of my Loop-life.

Continue the Feedback Loop series now. Also available on Kindle Unlimited!

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Life is a Beautiful Thing Box Set

Note: This is not LitRPG

The Life is a Beautiful Box Set has appearances from Hajime and Ryuk in books 2 and 3. This series takes place 8 year after Fantasy Online, but there are no spoilers regarding how Fantasy Online will end.

Pick up the Life is a Beautiful Thing Box Set here.

LitRPG book list

LitRPG is a growing genre with a bunch of very good books. Here are some series you should check out if you haven’t already (in no particular order):

1)      Ascend Online by Luke Chmilenko

2)     Lion’s Quest by Michael-Scott Earle

3)      Delvers LLC by Blaise Corvin

4)     Viridian Gate Online by James Hunter

5)     Awaken Online by Travis Bagwell

6)      The Land by Aleron Kong

7)      Hero of Thera by Eric Nylund

8)     Codename: Freedom by Apollos Thorne

9)     Conquest by Aleric Elos

10)  Sigil Online: Paragons by Jeff Sproul

11)   Adventures on Terra by R.A. Mejia

12)  Soulstone Awakening by J.A. Cipriano

13)  Dragon Web Online by Sam Witt

14)  Otherlife Series by William D. Arand