The Slums of Suchi, a shade darker on account of the missing moon.
In a district where the players had logged off and the NPCs slept, a stallion without a rider was galloping through the winding, narrow, unpeopled streets.
As Henry,
The most impressive complex he spotted was a fortress modelled after the walled villages of the Hakka people of China. It was a five-story circular building with slot windows, large enough to shoot an arrow through but not much else. It took up the space of multiple other Villages, and above a single, tiny entrance hung a banner saying “The United Villages of Croatia”. Inside this complex, there were eleven Achievement Pillars clumped together.
As Henry was passing this complex and got a glimpse of the courageous climber, he shook his horse head.
One had to know that all of this would be destroyed by the end of the real-life month.
Although he’d fantasised many times about being the one to destroy this shithole himself, the destruction of the area was actually a scripted game-event known as ‘The Cleansing of the Slums’. Once a month, the upper-class NPCs of Suchi would march out from the Central City with their armies. They would roam about setting everything in the surroundings on fire. Anyone who remained in the area would be killed on sight, forcing the local slum-dwellers to migrate temporarily into the savannah.
The official explanation for The Cleansing was that it was necessary to clear land space for the region’s brief planting and farming season, but this was a lie. The main purpose was to suppress the growth of the lower classes and any foreigners, players included, who tried to make Suchi home. This could be seen in the fact that even if one tried building hundreds of kilometres out from the city, well beyond the farming zone, the enforcers would still turn up with their flaming torches.
As he'd complained about many times before, Suchi was inexplicably trash.
For his guild, to get permission to build their facilities here had been a major headache. It'd involved a year-long odyssey of a questline, with blackmail, assassinations, political marriages, dungeon crawling, a few underground battles, and—of course—money. All in all, the guild had invested almost 900 million in-game man hours into it. After finishing that questline, Henry had refused to handle anything in the region again.
Naturally, if it was difficult for his guild, the gang-leaders of The Slum Empire would never have bothered with it. Instead, they embraced The Cleansing. They celebrated it like a graduation event, with one batch of players being sent off, while the next were welcomed. A day before, they would host a mock war, in which all the 'Kingdoms' would battle, destroying their bases themselves.
Henry guessed that the fortress design of this Village was in preparation for this mock war.
Behind him, visible in the periphery of his horse-form's wider vision, a kitten-sized shadow was springing from the roof of one shack to another.
It’d been pursuing him for the past five minutes.
To bring the Karnon stuff up to date:
After riding the ‘Space-ship’ back from the moon, Henry’d helped Karnon file the paperwork on his divorce, then the azure God had deposited him back in Suchi.
Before his friends logged on, he’d had an hour and a half to spare, this time being used to scratch a few tasks off of his to-do list.
The manuscripts written in The Overdream had been couriered away to editors elsewhere in the digital globe. He’d chosen to distribute them across various pen names since a 17-year old producing 43 novels in one day might ring alarm bells.
Visiting a local zoo, he'd bribed a nightwatchman to let him in and learned the other two Earthfriend forms permitted in his recruitment tournament, Silverback Gorilla and Savanna Cheetah. (AN: abilities listed at the end of the chapter).
To familiarise with those, he’d travelled to the forest outside The Earthfriend Habitat and farmed monsters, cheetah biting and gorilla punching his way to level 11.
Progressing to the Level 20 of most players in the zone would require a trip to an instance dungeon. However, that could wait for until after the team practice with his friends, which he was heading to now. He was pretty much ready to go either way, since his level disadvantage could be negated by a Scholar scroll giving stats, and there were no additional Earthfriend abilities to learn within Tier-0.
Before moving on, though, there was one last pesky pimple to pop.
Henry cancelled his transformation and span around. “Games up, you blue bastard! Come on out!”
The seemingly-empty streets provided no answer to his accusation except for an over-sized rat with a dog in its mouth scuttling into an alleyway.
“I wouldn’t have risked detouring into this deserted quarter of The Slums if I weren’t sure, Karnon.”
From behind one shack’s chimney, a string of snickering meows danced out, followed by the grinning head of an azure kitten. Leaping dozens of metres to the middle of the street, it expanded and morphed into an antlered giant with his arms held high in surrender.
“You caught me, officer!" Karnon laughed. "So, is this the real appearance of The Tyrant, whose name whispered only in the dark corners of taverns inspires so much hate and dread?”
Throughout the episode with Karnon, Henry had continued using the transmogrified avatar from when he’d gone to meet Earthfriend Rikard - a middle-aged guy with thinning hair. After arriving in Suchi, though, he’d reverted to his unspectacular teen self. Furthermore, his face wasn’t hidden behind an exotic mask, nor was his lefty pinky adorned with a rusty iron ring conferring a false identity.
“Yep!" he replied. "It’s plain, old me!”
A couple years into The Overdream, immersed in the total freedom, he’d realised that always hiding, always acting, always calibrating his responses to achieve an optimal end - that this had been a form of self-assault. By constantly playing false, one stunted the growth of their soul, for those parts devoted too much to being ‘the other’ became, in turn, inaccessible in the creation of one’s authentic self.
At least, that was his tentative conclusion. He’d spent the bulk of his Overdream time practising martial arts and writing, so it was kind of debatable whether he’d accumulated any real-life experience.
Regardless, motivated by such a change in philosophy, he’d decided to abandon the extreme efforts to mask his tracks. Of course, he wouldn’t rent a billboard announcing, “Hey, it’s me, The Tyrant; come ambush me for free Legendaries,” but if someone did catch him, then he would simply handle the complications as they arose, treating them as scenic detours on his unstoppable climb to the top - the top of every field in existence!
Karnon pointed at him. “You’re just a snot-nosed brat!”
“I am! Anyway, what brings you here? The 'lessons' with you have finished; we’re moving on to the next episode.”
“The lessons ARE over!” The azure God transformed into a university chancellor in academic regalia and presented Henry with a framed degree. ”Congratulations, my protégé, you’ve graduated from The School of Karnon with top marks! So impressed were the teaching staff that we’ve decided to promote you directly from student onto the board."
“Not interested.”
"By becoming a member of the faculty, you will be joining an exclusive cadre of elite educators using cutting-edge practical joke technology to satiate the hungry minds of the future.”
"Nope."
“Before rejecting the offer, Professor T, listen to this semester’s curriculum: we’ll start by alternating projects. You set up the downfall of these Slum goons, I removed a moon, now it’s your turn again.”
“Even more not interested.”
“Drawing a blank? Borrow one of mine!” The God pulled out a hundred-metre-long scroll covered with a dense list of idiotic schemes. A single crossed-out line represented the trial they’d been through, “Erase a moon.” Another line, crossed-out then rewritten, “Rigged donkey gambling”, showed Karnon’s initial ‘lesson plan’ to establish a donkey race course and have Henry abuse his donkey-speaking ability to convince competitors to throw large-purse matches.
Henry shoved the scroll aside. “These are all trash. Within four seconds, I’ve devised a superior project, which I’m calling Operation KTFM.” Pulling out a Communication Stone, he spoke into it, “0.70265, 37.59745.”
Karnon blinked. “Who did you share our coordinates with?”
“Like all the best projects, this one stars a mystery guest.”
The azure God lifted his arms in celebration as if the universe had answered a desperate call. “You know me to a T! I LOVE guest appearances! Let me try guess their identity. 21 questions. Boy or girl?”
“Neither.”
“OooooOOOoo, a hermaphrodite! Are they younger than five millennia?”
“Yes. A bit.”
“Interesting! Have they ever schemed to conquer the—what the Infernal Planes is THIS?“
Karnon stared with horror at his lower limbs. Panicking, he tried to cast his teleportation spell to escape – but to no effect. He’d already been separated from the ground by a bubblegum pink gust.
When his whirlwind of a wife formed around him, he pointed with incredulity at The Tyrant, who was wearing a smug, poop-eating grin.
“IT CANNOT BE!”
“Operation KTFM."
"NEVER!"
"Karnon The Family Man.”
“I REFUSE! LET ME GO! ASSAULT! THIS IS ASSAULT!”
The God shapeshifted into an eagle, but the air parted around his flapping wings to prevent the production of lift. Switching to a tornado, he was constrained by bubblegum-pink wind box. Changing again to an azure blue whale, hoping to use the weight to sink, he continued drifting in circles like a paper tissue, Princess Pateela having cursed him with her reduction spell -
Back to his giant form, he keeled over in pain like Caesar on the floor of the senate meeting room, 23 stab wounds to his dying body.
“I THOUGHT I WAS FEEDING A WORM, BUT I HAVE INSTEAD NURTURED A DRAGON! BETRAYER! AN EARTHFRIEND MUST CONDUCT THEMSELVES WITH HONESTY AND RESPECT FOR THEIR ELDERS! IF YOU INSIST ON CONTINUING WITH THIS FARCE, YOUR WAGES WILL BE GARNISHED BY...”
In front of Henry, a smaller tornado condensed, inside of which span a housewife’s outfit of cooking apron, dishwashing gloves, and a wig with hair curlers. “Thanks for catching him, Tyrant. I assume you’ll find the payment suitable.”
The Princess plunked down a silver chest, which Henry removed the lid from to expose hundreds of Wind Elemental audiobooks stolen from the royal library.
“I would have done it for free,” he replied, “but I’ll accept them anyway.”
“WHAT?! SHE SPEAKS?! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!”
A flying frying pan smacked the azure God over the side of his dumb head.
“You’re Gods damned right I speak! And I hear, too! Every dumb, vile word uttered by that dirty mouth of yours, you lazy, lecherous lizard. Imagine the gumption to abandon your pregnant wife and teleport around the planet. To do what exactly, Karnon, commit pranks? How can a father be so irresponsible!”
“BUT, DARLING, THE DIVORCE PAPERS, WE’VE ALREADY SIGNED THE DIVORCE PAPERS!”
"Hehehehehehe." Henry mockingly imitated Karnon’s snicker. “According to The Southern Wind Elemental Tenets of Vi’akatii, divorce applications are ineligible for processing between parents of a tornado child until it reaches its teens.”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Karnon could try disobeying the rules, but good luck pulling that off with one of the world’s few Tier-12 entities for a father-in-law.
“TYRANT, DIDN’T WE HAVE SOMETHING SPECIAL?! WHAT HAPPENED TO ANSWERING ONLY OUR HEARTS?!”
Henry put a hand over his chest, feeling out the message in its pulse. “It says you need to disappear for a while. Five centuries, to be precise.”
Tornadoes were slow growers.
“FIND ME A LOOPHOLE OR I’LL CRUSH YOUR BONES INTO POWDER! I’LL SCUTTLE YOUR NAVIES TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEAS! I’LL SPREAD LOCUSTS ACROSS YOUR FIELDS AND PLAGUES THROUGH YOUR COLONIES!”
“Ignore his threats,” said the Princess. “Are we sorted for the future?”
Henry nodded. “My spies are everywhere, so just send a message whenever he breaks out, and we’ll track him down in no time.” Equipping his shabby Legendary clothes, he transferred the silver chest into the extra inventory space of The Ring.
Saying her goodbyes, the Princess, blending with the larger whirlwind, spirited her unruly husband in the direction of The Black Desert.
When the God became an azure spec in the south-eastern sky, his voice boomed through Henry’s skull.
“Well played, Professor T., very well played. But I, Karnon, have seen your true face...this will not be the last you see of mine.”
Henry didn’t doubt the claim, but, for now, he sent the annoying God off with the same relieved wave one gives burdensome relatives departing after Christmas.
A happy Henry then retransformed into a stallion.
Freed of The Blue Burden, he revelled in the trip to Byzantium, playfully vaulting over potholes, punting rabid rats, and veering around garbage heaps left to rot in the road.
If not even the Gods could stop him, what else could possibly stand in his way?
Straight to the top!
After travelling just a kilometre, though, The Slums, as if intent on spoiling his mood, gave him another challenge. While he was ducking down a side street, his pleasant run was brought to a halt by five NPCs blocking his path, their weapons marked with the nicks and notches of regular use.
“Whoa there, pal, hold your horses,” said the lead thug, a Fighter who thrust his spear into a shack on the other side of the narrow street to create a barricade.
Henry rolled his horse eyes.
Right...this entire stupid zone...
The rampant crime would be fixed as part of the plan to topple that Ramiro guy; however, as with any political change, the measures needed to be implemented gradually.
Cancelling his transformation, he swept the surroundings with his gaze, then focused it on the thugs.
Their armour was forged from an aqua-blue material - Jibak, Tier 1-3. They were blonde-haired and around his age, meaning they were likely the wayward spawn of recent immigrants.
Nothing but a ragtag bunch teens out for some murderous midnight fun.
A Shaman in the backline pretended to be insulted. “The way this Offworlder looks at us, Bael, it’s unsettling.”
“Shouldn’t an Earthfriend’s gaze be as soft as a flower?” added a Bowman.
“It is unusual,” agreed the Fighter. “It seems he’s threatening us. Well, Offworlder, we were going to have you cough up your gear peacefully, but if you insist, we’ll have to suffice with swiping the most valuable from your soul-lights.”
While they’d been talking, Henry’d gathered ten Fauna charges.
These little idiots had planned on murdering him from the start. This number of people was excessive for a random mugging.
A Crusader, also armed with a spear, taunted. “No Flora? You’re gonna regret the lack of a shield when I stick this between your eyes.”
Henry, maintaining eye contact with the Crusader, replaced three with Celestial charges and aimed a finger gun at him, miming a triple shot.
The Fighter sneered at the odd gesture. “I guess they think staying mute will frighten us. No, Offworlder scum, you were better off begging for your life.”
Henry smiled. “It won’t exactly give me pleasure to disembowel you, but it also won’t impair my sleep.”
The corner of his smile seemed to stretch unnaturally far, then his nose retracted into his face, while black and silver fur sprouted from his swelling muscles.
Transforming into a fully-developed, adult Silverback Gorilla, he bulked up even more by activating
He raised a long gorilla arm and gestured for them to begin.
“Under the weight of flies,” said the Fighter, dislodging his spear, ”the sand does not cave in.”
In his throat rumbled a short musical phrase with a spasmodic rhythm, the sound reminiscent of Native American chanting.
The Crusader mimed the phrase back to him, adding flourishes that encoded his thoughts on the plan.
With their fellow thugs holding off to watch, the two spearmen began to jog forward at a pace synchronised to the song, their weapons twirling in tight circles to avoid entanglement with the nearby walls.
They split apart as they closed in to pincer their prey.
Henry recognised this martial art as one he’d studied in The Cap, the Herdswoman’s Spear, a style invented by Suchi’s Zone Guardian Nerin. The specific attack formation was titled ‘The Song of The Defenceless Wilderbeest’, a group formation designed to minimise the chance of a solitary enemy retaliating.
The formation actually required three attackers.
When the pair were about to reach him, Henry jumped sideways.
At that moment, a Cutthroat, who’d been stealthed behind him, materialised from a smoke cloud, her blade slicing the jugular of the air where he’d been.
While she was still registering the miss, a gorilla palm from above grabbed the top of her helmet and shoved her head down until her jawbone shattered against her shoes.
The pancaked woman burst into lights.
The Crusader and the Fighter meanwhile paled in horror when the points of their spears penetrated barely half a centimetre into the gorilla’s hardened flesh.
Unfortunately for these thugs, Henry’s stats were still being amplified by
He plunged his arm through the armoured belly of the Fighter, it providing less resistance than a tinfoil-covered jelly dessert, and scooped out the man’s insides, killing him in an instant.
The Crusader was ‘luckier’, dodging a swipe within a fingernail’s breadth, before falling backwards and landing on his arse. Panting with fear, he stared up at the gorilla looming above. As it shapeshifted back into a human, it seemed to offer its hand as if to pick him up, but then a dot of Celestial energy on the tip of its finger crawled up to its palm.
And with the boosted Magic Power...
The golden energy shield that the Crusader instinctually activated popped like a bubble as a spear of light punched a smoking hole between his terrified eyes.
The carnage wrought upon his brainmeat was, however, insufficient to kill him.
“Pro-tip:” said Henry, when the Crusader's health pool returned his consciousness, “with a power gap this huge, shields do diddly squat.”
With a second
Shapeshifting into a cheetah, he sprinted after the others who were already fleeing.
With his face on full display, leaving survivors would risk whatever gangs they were connected with pestering him later in search of vengeance. Then, he would have to wipe them out, and then whomever they were affiliated with. Too much of a hassle; better to cut the infant weeds by their stems before they propagate.
Afterwards, he joined a route congested with foot traffic to avoid further ambush.
A short while later, he was standing before the gates of Byzantium Village, from out of which could be heard the chaotic blend of beating hammers and bubbling soups and chattering youth.
Stopping by earlier to drop off the donkey, he’d felt nothing. Now, though, to his great surprise, his chest was thumping with nerves. However, they weren’t of the ominous sort; rather, it was that mundane feeling any young man felt before venturing into unfamiliar territory.
At the same time as his own arrival, a horse-drawn wagon was pulling up to Byzantium with someone seemed to have gone through their own adventure on the way here, a 7-foot tall Crusader dressed in full-plate golden armour clattering on the back.
Henry, spotting the giant hunk of metal from afar, identified him immediately from his notes on The Slums.
Justinian the ‘Great’, a Long-Term Villager who headed Byzantium Village’s 6v6 team, and Henry’s arena coach—the best in all The Slums according to Cathy—for the next two weeks.
The guy's profile had baffled him with multiple anomalies.
Firstly, unlike Byzantium's other two LTVs, Justinian did not appear to have a Civilian class that he could develop without going on adventures, nor did he seem to engage in the internal politics of the Slum. Instead, for the past six months, he had maintained his Martial class at Tier-0, and participated in the guild's recruitment tournament over and over again.
From this, one might assume that Justinian was obsessed with joining the guild, but, in fact, Justinian had long surpassed the entry requirements. He seemed to be a skilled duellist, ranking in the 1v1 tournament once in the top 100, twice in the top 50, and once in the top 20.
Yet these results did not seem to be satisfactory. At several Slum Empire Community Events, he had proclaimed to the world that he would never leave Suchi until he won the 1v1 and 6v6 tournaments. Only then would he be able to “show Him”, to "humiliate Him", to "rub His face in the dirt".
Who was 'He'? The madman had never revealed this identity.
Given that it was Henry's own tournament and how many people hated him, Henry's first guess would be that the 'He' being mouthed off might be himself. However, one, he'd never met a player called Justinian, and, two, why would he possibly give a rat's bottom about a random dude winning a recruitment tournament in the game's most irrelevant zone?
For a second anomaly, this Justinian guy also appeared to be a dedicated roleplayer. His Martial class was a Crusader, a representative of the gods, who used their healing-tanking hybrid skills to wade into battles and save the weak and injured. As a roleplaying Crusader, Justinian accepted all quests, no matter how poor-paying or arduous, and as a result, he had entered the top 100 of the ‘Slum Points Personal Leaderboard’ multiple times – whatever that meant. For his ‘achievements’, he’d become a minor celebrity in The Slums, being nicknamed Justinian the Great, after the real-life Byzantine emperor of the same name.
A roleplayer...absolutely disgusting. Well, in the past, Henry’d been revolted by these vile people but the digital decades inside The Cap had softened his judgement until...no, that was a lie - looking at this kid now, he still felt disgusted.
Third anomaly was his username, 'Justinian', with no further distinguishers. Such a name would have been snatched up on the game's opening day, which was incongruent with this stupid character being a Tier-0 who’d shown up only six months ago. Based on this, combined with his skill, Henry guessed that the guy was, in reality, a veteran who’d deleted his old character and created a new one.
But if he were a veteran, then that would make him repeatedly participating in a tournament for noobs even more absurd.
So what the hell was going on?
Who was 'He'? Was there really a 'He'? What if this Justinian guy was, in fact, just addicted to beating up noobs or raking in these 'Slum Points'? Or had he roleplayed too hard as a Crusader and accidentally locked himself into a hellish cycle where he could never leave this rotting abyss?
Henry messaged Alex.
-Henry Flower: Dude, did you set this Suchi crap up six months in advance?
-Alex Wong: m8 hav u ever known me to plan that far ahead?
-Henry Flower: Yes.
The Digital Justice Club had been a 2-year long strategy to take revenge on some guy who had offended Alex by kicking him out of his arena team. Alex could be as calculative as he was petty.
-Alex Wong: well not this time m8. thought about it randomly 2 months ago when i was eating pavlova
-Henry Flower: ???
-Alex Wong: u don't like pavlova. u don't like suchi. i thought "hmmm...i will send him to suchi" hahahaha. i’m a fucking genius. hahaha
Henry frowned. What a ridiculous inciting event, but, knowing Alex's personality, it was probably true.
-Henry Flower: Then, did you piss off a guy called Justinian six months ago? He might have been a Crusader. More specifically, did you make a ridiculous bet with him as well about beating our recruitment tournament?
-Alex Wong: m8 how am i to possibly remember that far back? how many nerds have i dumpstered in that time? just this week i've already made 5 new bets
Henry, sighing, continued to study the Crusader with a wary feeling.
When the approaching cart drew to a stop beside him, the Crusader stepped off onto Suchi's red soil, his purely-aesthetic gold armour clattering as he landed.
Justinian, noticing his flat stare, roleplayed a knightly greeting. "Salutations, Sir Stranger."
Henry nodded.
“Wait,” called out the wagon driver, an NPC of sixty with a flightless parrot nesting in her grey curls. She hopped down and stuffed a cloth-wrapped package into Justinian’s arms. “My daughter prepared this in thanks for retrieving our Macska.”
Macska was the parrot.
Justinian pushed the gift away. “I must humbly refuse your generosity, noble citizen. In these darkest hours, I am honour bound by a vow of poverty.” He rotated on his heel dramatically and drew his golden cape across his body. “While Evil prevails, while He sits on his throne of pilfered gold looking with joy on this betrodden world, I, Justinian, eternal servant of God The Almighty, have foresworn all but the knight’s essentials. Until I take Him down, I will possess only my courage! My strength! My compassion for the weak and poor! And my tools for conducting holy war!”
Henry pointed questioningly at himself, a puzzled yet amused expression on his face.
“Farewell, noble citizen!” Justinian fanned out his arm, fluttering his cape, then began a purposeful march through Byzantium’s gates. Without turning back, he yelled, “and remember to lock your household pets inside after sunset! The shadows of night are filled with horrors...so long as He lurks in them.”
While the wagon driver scratched her hair, the parrot nibbling at her fingers, He slipped past her to follow in the Crusader’s golden footsteps.
New Forms:
Silverback Gorilla
Heart of the Beast (Silverback Gorilla)
While HotB is active, convert 30% of Magic Power to Strength, 45% of Magic Affinity to Vitality, decrease Technique by 20%, and receive
Ironhide. The Earthfriend's armour is absorbed into their bestial skin, reinforcing it. Reinforcement is enhanced by the lost Technique.
Menacing Presence. Stamina expended generates bonus threat against Monsters.
Gorilla Strength
Convert stamina into a unique resource, Gorilla Strength, which can be spent by the Earthfriend to infuse their movements and attacks with the titanic strength of the silverback.
Stronger movements will drain the resource faster. Maximum force determined by Strength.
1 Fauna Charge. 20% of Stamina pool. 0.5-second preparation time. 3-second cooldown.
Jungle Endurance
Gain bonus health for one minute by 115% of maximum HP. Damage sustained for the duration will be removed from this extra health first and will also return a small amount of Stamina.
Bonus health cannot be replenished by healing, persists through other Monster Forms, but is cancelled if the Earthfriend returns to Human form.
1 Fauna Charge. 10% Nature Energy Consumption. Instant cast. 1-minute cooldown.
Savanna Cheetah
Heart of the Beast (Savanna Cheetah)
While HotB is active, convert 20% of Magic Power to Strength and 30% of Magic Affinity to Technique.
Sprint
Unlock the talents of the Savanna Cheetah for 3-seconds, allowing the Earthfriend to expend Stamina to increase their movement speed. Stamina drain increases with velocity.
1 Fauna Charge. Variable Stamina cost. Instant cast. 3-second cooldown.
Bite (Basic Attack)
Sink your cheetah fangs into the target, inflicting serious damage.
50% bonus damage when attacking the throat.
1 Fauna Charge. 20% of Stamina pool. 0.2-second preparation time. 3-second cooldown.
Takedown
Blesses your front paws for 5-seconds with the power to drag an enemy to the ground.
Target must be facing away.
1 Fauna Charge. 12.5% of Stamina pool. 0.5-second preparation. 90-second cooldown.