Chapter 7
Three creatures darted out onto the path in front of me.
“Uh . . . hello?” I waved, and they looked over in my general direction. The sky had gotten considerably darker. Stars were starting to appear overhead, giving off the faintest of light. I wasn’t even sure I would be able to see the creatures if not for my enhanced eyesight. I inspected their nameplates and their status effects as they stumbled closer.
Level 2 Adolescent Troll x3
{Drunk} for 1 hour
{Drunk}
Description: Reflexes delayed 25%.
I glanced at my party feed for Greg’s advice only to see a message from Mie.
Mie: Did he just say hello to some teenage trolls drunk out of their minds like they were friendly or something?
Greg: Yeah . . . he’s dead.
Emotionally, I felt Mie do something like a facepalm.
I started backing away and caught more details as I went. The trolls stood at about four feet in height. Two of them carried spears much like my own in their long stringy arms. The other carried a crossbow. There was a flash of long white tusks as their lazy drunk eyes flicked around, trying to focus on me. A terrible stench of rotten death attacked my nose when they neared.
I covered my mouth and nose, trying not to heave up the bread I had just eaten. Their nameplates were yellow. But when their eyes narrowed in on me, and they fully became alerted to my presence . . . their nameplates turned red.
“Oh shit!” I closed my map as they charged. The crossbow troll fumbled with his weapon, trying to load a bolt in his drunken state, but the other two were fast and coming in hot.
I stepped toward them. My spear ready. I targeted the troll nearest and activated sweeping strike, trying it for the first time. I felt my arm and grip strengthen as I planted my feet in a wide stance. My hand gripped near end of the spear and locked it against my forearm in order to maximize its distance as I swept it low in a half circle in front of me. The spear cracked loudly into the legs of the first and clipped those of the second. They both tripped, white numbers floating over their heads and both gaining the rooted debuff. I noticed transparent chains rise out of the ground and snake their way around their legs as my sweep finished. I kept moving forward, targeted the crossbow troll and activated Vaulting Strike. As I left the ground, a bolt punctured into my chest, chopping my health bar in half. Pain and blood sprouted like a water fountain out of me, and I could barely breathe while blood started to fill one of my lungs. But the hit. . . hadn’t interrupted my vault.
My ability completed, and I crashed into the troll, spear first. It went through his midsection, and he doubled over, screaming like a piglet. I collided into him, and my teeth met his forehead which made my vision go white and black. My existence—for a moment—was just static, then it was obliterating pain . . . everywhere. But like I said earlier: a part of my consciousness was still able to comprehend and work on what to do next. We rolled to a stop, and my vision cleared.
I yanked out my spear and struck out again with another basic attack to his gut. His health bar went to zero.
Stumbling to my feet and gurgling blood, I shook the troll off the end of my spear. Blood dripped down the shaft to my hand, wind blew against me, and adrenaline once again began coursing through me as I turned my attention to the rooted trolls. I grasped my spear tight, afraid as blood rushed out of my chest. I pushed the fear down and crystalized it, and once again fluid red rage boiled within me, mixing with the hot adrenaline.
These two trolls . . . were in my way. I targeted the one on my left and activated Vaulting Strike. A red error floated up.
Not enough Stamina
I checked my stamina bar, and my rage-banked courage took a large step backward. The green bar was low and ticking up slowly—far from enough to use any ability.
“Uhh,” I said. I took a couple steps back and stumbled as the two trolls regained their feet. One of them activated some kind of drunken rage ability, causing him to shimmer with a milky white barrier around his skin. He bellowed into the air, and then charged.
I . . . ran.
I sprinted north as fast as I could toward a large boulder-looking thing, glancing back as I did. They were still some five yards back. But they were gaining on me. The little buggers were fast. I didn’t have long, and I saw a couple messages come in.
Greg: He is going to aggro other mobs . . . there goes another credit.
Mie: WATCH OUT SAM!
I looked back up and immediately went into something like a slide tackle. A large battleaxe swung over my head, and inch from ending me. It did, however, cleave the troll immediately behind me in two.
I slid to a stop between the feet of a massive shape which was . . . not a boulder. I looked up. The creature was as big as a grizzly bear, and her breasts . . . were incomprehensibly large. Each was the size of one of those exercise balls everyone has . . . but never use.
Level 33 Mother Troll
{Pissed} for 30 seconds
HP 4900/4900
{Pissed}
Description: Movement speed +25%.
What. The. I didn’t have a chance to comprehend—large tears splatted onto my hair and shoulders. It’s. . . crying? No. That’s milk. Oh god. I started scurrying away on all fours. I scurried through the legs hoping its radial turn would be hindered.
Then something crushed against my side, and I went sprawling off the path into some high grass, stars in my vision. The troll’s elbow had unintentionally clocked me during her pivot, sending me up and away. My entire body broke. My neck snapped. My ribs cracked. My femur fissured. Everything in me screamed . . . but I was still here. I was still conscious.
Mie: Oh my god. It’s a mama troll and you killed two of her kids. YOU MONSTER.
Greg: HEALTH POTION AND RUN.
I mentally slammed down on my health potion and saw my critically low health jump to full. My leg bone snapped back together, blood drained from my lungs through my mouth, and my chest expelled the bolt, leaving behind unmarred skin. The pain vanished as if it was never there.
The remaining adolescent and mama troll both sounded like they were confused as to where I had gone. I didn’t take Greg’s advice and instead I went stock-still. I hated myself for it, as it felt cowardly . . . but there was no way I was taking on a level thirty-three troll by myself. No way in hell.
I got back onto my feet, staying low and quiet. The area around me was full of growth, bushes and tall grass. I remained as still as possible, peering through the thick overgrowth.
The mama troll was on her knees sobbing. She held the top half of the small troll she had . . . chopped in half in her arms. She let out a bellow, and the remaining drunk troll stumbled a couple feet back, clearly still inebriated. The drunk debuff . . . they were milk drunk, I realized.
The remaining adolescent troll tried to go in for some more milk. I crouched down—happy to miss that exchange—and waited. After a few moments, a notification in my logs stuck out to me among the steady stream of information.
Out of combat
Greg: If I were him. I’d log out.
Sam: What? Log out?
Greg: Seriously, why do I always get stuck with the worst players?
Sam: NOT HELPFUL GREG!
Greg: . . . Settings menu, bottom right.
I looked, and sure enough, there was a little gear icon with an option to log out. I selected it and a thirty-second timer started. Not really sure what was happening, my hackles rose as I could hear the two trolls gurgling some strange speech, and I could hear one getting closer. The timer seemed to be crawling down. The grass in front of me parted slightly, and when the little guy saw me, his eyes went wide. The familiar soul transaction logs listed out as the timer finished, then I vanished.
I reappeared back in the Soul Space with a little pop. I noticed that my HUD remained intact, as I could still see things like my life credit stats in my top right, party members in my top left, party feed in my bottom left, and menu options in my bottom right. There were a couple differences though. I didn’t see any of my character abilities or anyway to trigger them.
I was still crouched like I had been in Hearth, but my body was no longer that of a Mountain Elf, and instead it was back to being to what I thought of as my Soul Space Body. I sat down on the wood floor, extending my legs out in front of me. Greg and Mie were both looking at me, but I was so . . . very . . . tired.
The air, as bad it was . . . smelled better than the rotten stench that hung on the trolls. I took a minute to just breathe, trying to come to terms with this reality once more.
I really could have used a break from all these terrible scents. I was a smell guy . . . and if this was going to be my existence forever . . .
I’d rather have stayed dead.
I let my back fall against the wood floor as a mix of emotions took me. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes and hung there. It was too much. It was all . . . too fucking much.
I had just done things I had never dreamed I would do. I killed people. I killed kids. The memory of the troll getting cleaved in half by its own mother hit me, and my body clenched. So much death. Some by my very own hand. I couldn’t comprehend it. It felt so unreal.
I felt a little baby hand flail next to my own. Mie was lying beside me, her eyes big and worried. She gripped my pinky finger in an action that seemed unintentional. She was so utterly helpless. She lay in more of her black filth.
This is so . . . impossible.
How the hell . . . am I supposed to keep a baby alive in a box?!
I felt her emotional presence. She was sad and it was seeping into my own emotional pool. Tears started falling down my cheeks.
I remembered my family. My little Lily as a three-month-old grasping both my pinkies as I made her giggle for the first time. I remembered my little two-year-old Ada doing a head bop and twirling around as some upbeat eighties jams played in the background. I remembered all of us cuddling in the dark, some nonsense movie flickering in front of us. The kids munching on some well-earned popcorn. I remembered . . . an icy road . . . blood running down the side of my head, and snowflakes hitting and melting on my hot skin . . . I shoved those memories down.
I wanted my family back. God, please. I just want my family back.
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A few more moments passed as I let the exhaustion set in. I cracked my eyes open, letting them adjust to the light. I needed sleep badly, but there were some things I still needed to figure out before I could succumb to the dark.
I noticed a prompt in my system feed.
You have 2 square meters of unspent space. {Spend}?
I selected the option, and a build menu appeared in my interface. To the left, it showed a two-dimensional blueprint of the Soul Space from a top-down perspective. The space was about as big as I thought it was. Three meters in width, seven meters in length, and two meters in height. I was about six foot, so my hair brushed the wood framing on the ceiling as I stood up.
On my right, there was a bar with build options. I selected a 3D-looking box, and a holographic block appeared in front of me. As I swept my gaze over the space, the green block flickered and changed shape depending on where I was looking. If I had it in the middle of the room, it disappeared. But if I looked at a wall, it showed the additional area that would be added to my Soul Space.
With an idea in mind, I went ahead and mentally confirmed two square meters stacked on top of each other to the left of the TV.
THUD! THUD!
The added space appeared out of nowhere as soon as I confirmed my choice. No animation. Nothing. Even the wood framing next to the new small room shifted instantaneously to stay . . . up to code. Huh.
Your Soul Space has changed.
I walked over to the new area I had created.
“Wonder if we could make this a bathroom . . . ” I said. I noticed my throat was dry, so I looked over to Greg who was sitting against the wall next to his desk. “Where are we supposed to get water? And food?” I saw the minifridge-looking machine behind Greg’s desk and pointed at it. “What is that thing again? A transporter?”
He didn’t look up at me. He sat huddled against the wall and made no move to acknowledge my question.
He honestly was starting to piss me off. He reminded me—unfortunately—of Ada when she got in a bad mood. But this was worse. Our lives were on the line here.
I kept my mouth shut as I moved over to the transporter. I had to awkwardly sit on the desk to interact with it. “How does this thing work?”
Finally, Greg looked up. “I’ll tell you . . . for a silver.”
I let that statement sink in. It felt like he was begging. I remembered what he’d said about having been through this thousands of times, but . . . I still felt no pity for this creature. I didn’t like beggars. In my mind, if someone was begging, they had given up on trying. They had given up on everything. I swept my legs back across the desk, hopped off and crouched right in front of him. I grabbed him by his fleshy shoulder in a firm grip.
“Look, man, all I want is to not . . . be here . . . smelling shit. Here . . . sucks ass.”
“Amen,” said Mie.
“And,” I continued, barely containing my anger, “I want to figure out a couple things like some of the rules surrounding logout, and what this transporter thingy does. Then we can get a plan of action in place, and after that I will turn my brain off and wake up at home, in my bed, having never died.” I wanted that so badly to be true, but . . . I knew it wouldn’t be. I was just at my wit’s end. I needed a release from it all. “I need you to WAKE UP AND HELP.” I shoved him against the wood wall lightly, and he cowered over in fear.
I took a deep steadying breath . . . through my mouth.
Sensing my mood, Greg went into a bunch of details surrounding the rules of logging out. It was odd how many details he started spewing out . . . as if . . . he were a scared dog.
He was afraid, and I suddenly had a terrible thought. I wondered . . . if others had tortured this creature for information. I swallowed as I listened, regretting my small shove.
I did glean from his explanation that you can only log out when you were out of combat. The definition of being out of combat, as far as I could tell, was not receiving any external damage for thirty seconds. There seemed to be no global limitations beyond that. Certain areas could give you buffs. For example, if you logged out from an inn, you were afforded an experience boost. There were certain areas you couldn't log out of. But it sounded like that would be a specified rule. It didn’t seem like anything I had to worry about just yet.
As he finished, he started laughing and said, “But none of this matters, because in the end . . . you are just worms. You are meat. You are dead.”
My pity and regret fled in a hot flash. I . . . forced myself to turn away. This creature had lost all hope and had become an asshole.
I swung my legs over the desk again and faced the transporter interface once more, doing my best to ignore his comment. I glanced back at Mie.
She . . . looked uncomfortable which I could feel within our bond as well. She was hungry, and the filth was causing a bad rash across her back. . . I thought I heard her mutter under her breath. “Dear mother of God, why am I alive?”
I couldn’t blame her. In fact. I had no real understanding for how she perceived the world . . . if she just had my memories to go off of . . . then . . . she was having a real bad time.
The transporter interface, to my surprise, was pretty simple, which made Greg’s play for a silver all the more annoying to me. It reminded me of any online store. A list of purchasable items appeared. There was even an option that said, ‘Buy now!’ next to each item. That seemed dangerous, and for the first time I was glad Mie was a baby. If she had access to this thing . . . I had the feeling she was a spender . . . and that would make two of us. Never a good combination in a partnership.
Every item had a price listed. There were convenient tabs and buttons for filtering and sorting, but . . . I just used the search box. I knew what we needed.
I searched ‘toilet’ and selected one called a ‘basic ass toilet’ which cost fifty coppers. After I confirmed my purchase, one of my silvers disappeared, and fifty copper coins appeared in my inventory. I was also awarded with the same build interface as before. The toilet turned transparent and was the color red in areas it couldn’t be placed; it turned green in areas I could place it. I went ahead and placed it in the small room and heard a loud THUD behind me. I bought a simple door next and was happy to see it magically fit. That was damn useful. Doors were a pain in the ass to install on Earth. No shims, or frame, or measuring, or leveling, or screws, or anything . . . just bam. It was there. Huh. I guess there are perks to being dead.
The transporter options for what we could buy were endless. There were various paper goods like . . . notebooks, binders, pencils . . . What is this, Staples? Toiletries, food, beverages, and even furniture. The options went on and on all oriented toward humans. I saw infant-sized diapers and added those to my cart. They cost me fifteen coppers for a pack of twenty. Not bad. The diapers gave me another thought, so I typed in a few more words and added more things to my cart. I checked out.
You received {Pack of Wipes} x2
You received {Pack of Infant Diapers} x2
You received {Baby Bottle}
You received {64oz can of Infant Formula}
You received {Plastic Bottle of Water}
Small stuff like this I found appeared within the transporter. The baby bottle and the water hadn’t cost much. But the formula. That stuff wasn’t cheap, and it clocked in at five silvers a pop. I had bought some wipes to clean us up . . . specifically Mie. After she was clean, I gathered her into my arms and fed her. It was a natural thing for me, as I used to feed both my kids in a similar way. I savored the moment. It was the first normal thing I had done since my world went to shit and I had to admit I enjoyed it.
She drank it despite it being room temperature, and she let out a little sigh of relief after she finished the feed. I walked back over to the transporter. I couldn’t see anything else I could do with the thing other than shop, so I bought a few more essentials like clothes for Mie, myself . . . and Greg.
I bought a handful of air fresheners and then typed in the word ‘trash.’ A few basic cans popped up, but one in particular stood out to me. There was an item listed at two gold called a Void Dispenser. I looked at the corners of the room again. We need this. I had a thought. Or maybe not. I went over to the toilet and tried it out. It worked like a normal toilet would. Water came in from the tank and flushed downward in the bowl. I inspected the tank.
Basic Ass Water Source.
Description: Replenishes water up to 10000 cycles.
No water pipes . . . just that description. Huh. The water disappeared out the bottom though, so I inspected the bowl.
Basic Ass Void Disposal
Description: Flushes contents into the void.
Then I uhh . . . ripped a diaper in half and flushed it. The toilet immediately got clogged. Damnit. But after purchasing a plunger and going to town . . . it flushed. That will work. I purchased a pair of scissors, and handed those and the plunger to Greg. “When I wake up. All this shit,” I motioned at the torn-up clothes and other garbage around the room, “better be gone.” I was tired and didn’t hold back. It smelled awful here, and I was over it.
His eyes went wide, but he nodded and got to work. I was glad when he did too. I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to motivate him. But in my opinion, work was good for the soul. Maybe it would help him shake whatever the hell was wrong with him.
Wanting to try one more thing with the transporter, I typed in the word ‘bourbon’ and . . . I turned away from the interface. Stuff was listed in gold too. I didn’t have that kind of coin.
I glanced at Greg’s desk and noticed a book. I looked closer at it. A little info box appeared next to it.
Hearth Manual
Version 102.908.001
Sighing, I went back over to the transporter and searched for beer. A can showed up called an Earth Lager . . . but the system . . . it had me by the balls. Right below the can, was a sixty-four-ounce growler of the same stuff. It was listed at two silvers. I bought it, and a little stack of plastic red solo cups as well. I grabbed the manual, found a clear spot Greg had already moved some trash away from, and leaned against the wall the manual resting against my knees. I poured myself a frothy cup full of the lager and drained half of it in one go. It was the best drink of beer I had ever had in my life. I rested my head back for a moment and let the alcohol seep into my blood stream.
The manual was extensive, and unfortunately had no search functionality. It required that I actually flip it open and read it. A quote from the second movie of the Back to The Future series ran through my mind. ‘You have to use your hands?’ I sighed as I opened it. I found a table of contents and fingered my way down the page and found a section called ‘Potions.’
It was short, only listing three. But there were countless empty pages beyond those three, and I figured there was some sort of level barrier or other mechanic around revealing more. I ignored that for the moment and read through what was there.
Weak Health Potion
Description: Restores 100 health.
Materials: 1 Weak Heart Berry, 1 Unfiltered Water
Required Profession: Brewing, Cooking, Mixology, etc.
Weak Stamina Potion
Description: Restores 100 stamina.
Materials: 1 Weak Sugar Berry, 1 Unfiltered Water
Required Profession: Brewing, Cooking, Mixology, etc.
Weak Mana Potion
Description: Restores 100 mana.
Materials: 1 Weak Bard Berry, 1 Unfiltered Water
Required Profession: Brewing, Cooking, Mixology, etc.
This, I realized, is useful. I scanned the potions again, reading their requirements. The ‘etc.’ under the ‘Required Profession’ section stood out to me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if that list would grow, or if there was something else that I was missing.
There was an overview for the section as well. There, the manual talked at length around potion use. There were two timers associated with potions per potion type. One displayed—which I thought of as a cooldown—and one not, which I thought of a system timer. The one displayed was pretty clear. If it was active, I couldn’t use that potion type . . . even if I wanted to. It acted like any of my other ability cooldowns. However, every time a potion was used, the system tracked that usage with an internal timer. I read the section again. It didn’t say anything about the length on that hidden timer. So, basically, if I used a potion of the same type before that internal timer ran out, it would double the displayed cooldown for that potion type. So, it would go from one-and-a-half minutes, to three minutes, to six minutes, and so on unless I waited long enough for that internal timer to expire. My head hurt.
I flipped through a few more pages at random.
There was a short section on battle arts that clarified that I would not be able to equip other types of weapons on Hearth even if I wanted to. The only weapons I could currently equip were those that were considered the spear type. It mentioned nothing about how to get additional battle arts.
As I flipped through the manual, the TV suddenly flicked on.
I stopped my perusing as an eerily familiar view appeared in front of me.
Garbage littered the small shipment-container-sized room.
A creature with elephant-like ears stood behind a desk, his palms pressed into his eyes.
A piano melody started up. It was a song from Earth, and I recognized it as one of those late nineties or early two thousands rock band songs. “In the end . . . it doesn’t even matter.”
A young woman appeared in the center of the room with a pop. Her Soul Space was about the same size as my own. She was pleading. . . “Please no! I picked the wrong race! Please don’t! I picked the wrong RACE! GIVE ME ANOTHER—” SLAM!
It happened so fast. Her body . . . flattened . . . as if a giant invisible boot had just slammed down on top of a beer can. Our view into her room was spattered with flecks of blood and I stared in horror at her pancaked corpse.
“Greg. What . . . was . . . that?” I asked. But I knew. I knew. I looked over to him. He was paused outside of the bathroom watching, our reactions. He wore a sad grimace on his face. He looked like he pitied us. The hell?
I saw the players remaining count in my top right tick down by one.
Players Remaining: 999,999
“She . . . ran out of life credits.” He answered as we watched her guide calmly walk toward the transporter, keeping his back to camera. A hole appeared on the top of the space as if it was on the roof. Then it appeared to . . . vacuum. A loud suction sound started up, and the guides clothes started whipping in a flurry. His massive elephant ears flapped toward the hole like how a dog’s would outside a car window. Then it was over. The body was gone, the garbage was gone. Everything in the room was gone aside from the guide. There wasn’t even a desk. The feed shut off.
That woman . . . was just squished . . . then, as Greg put it . . . effed . . .
The TV flicked back on, this time showing a young man who was on his knees pleading.
The music started up again, blaring through the TV’s speakers.
“Is there an off switch to this thing?” I asked, my tone dark. I couldn’t do it. I needed to turn my brain off. I was at my limit.
Greg nodded and pressed a little button on the side of the TV just as another SLAM! sounded.
I went back over to Mie after downing a second—and third—cup of Earth Lager. She had passed out on a few extra shirts I had bought, looking, for the first time, comfortable. I watched her breathe. Greg continued plunging dirty rags and other bits of trash out of the space through the toilet disposal. I laid near Mie, but not too close, afraid I might roll on top of her. I closed my eyes, letting the perpetual sound of flushing and plunging ease my anxiety. My thoughts drifted through the past and landed on a memory of Ada.
She was five, and she was laughing as I pushed her on a park swing. Her hair flew behind her as I pushed her knees, and she would laugh when I pretended to get hit by her feet. Her giggles echoed through my mind. The chain of her swing was squeaky and needed oil.
Push. SQUEAK. Push. SQUEAK.
Plunge. FLUSH. Plunge. FLUSH.
All went black.