We didn’t have much to say after that. Max obsessed over his new book, and I took some time looking over the new bow. I

As I ran my hands over it, I was impressed with its elegance. The white wood was light, almost weightless in my hands. Each limb had gentle, sinuous curves with a curl at the end. The string itself sparkled as if made of glitter. Running my finger along it proved that it was smooth. In fact, I could barely feel the string, even when I drew it back to test the tension.

Inspecting the limbs again, my fingers ran along the dark runes that had been carved into the bow. The runes were made of lines and angles and as I traced them I came to several triangles.

“Max,” I said, pointing at the runes, “do you recognize these?”

He pried himself away from the pages of one of his books and looked over. “Yeah, that's Enneaxi writing.”

I placed the bow down on the table and we both stood over it. “Do you have the copy of their alphabet?”

“No, it’s in Emma’s books.” Max said. “What do you think it means? Not just the inscription, but Eastman bringing us a weapon with Enneaxi writing on it?”

“Impossible to say.” I was wondering myself and questioning how concerned I ought to be. If Eastman was correct, the simulation was their creation. Wouldn’t that mean everything in it would also be theirs or their creation? Perhaps they’d picked up or heard a myth of a weapon with runes on it, not knowing what they looked like, they might just use their own. Or, it was another piece to help us decipher their language.

“Let me show you something,” Max said. He moved back to his seat and spun the book around to face me.

The pages had strings of text, looking very much like the snippets of coding I’d seen other students use in computer science classes. The text itself was complete gibberish to me. “Okay,” I said, “that makes no sense to me at all.”

“But it makes sense to me,” Max said. “This ‘magic’ is really just cheat codes in the simulation.”

“So we are in a game, not an alternate reality?”

“It looks that way. But what are the odds that a completely different species, one that sort of defies our understanding of biology, would make computers using languages like we, humans, do?”

I bit my lip, considering that for a moment. Of course, I had no idea what drove humans to create computers or how to run them. To me, they were magical boxes. They could do incredible things, but they had really started out as nothing more than calculators. A friend in college had created a program that would search the inventory of nearby craft beer craft websites and make a list of the best prices for connoisseur brands. That was a kind of witchcraft.

“Well,” I said, “I don’t know about computers, but let's say the Enneaxi wanted to build a bridge over a ravine. We saw it floating a few feet over the floor. Can it fly? Is a bridge a thing they even need? If they can only hover a few feet over the ground, will they fall through the bridge? Or will it be enough to support them? Is there a minimum surface area needed to support them? The answers to these questions will determine how the bridge functions and what it looks like, which could be something radically different than what we think of as a bridge.”

“Exactly,” Max beamed at me. “We need computers because math got too big for us. Maybe they have the same issue. Maybe they don’t. But the likelihood that creatures like the Enneaxi, who folds in on themselves and seems to phase out of reality, would follow our same path to computational machines seems unlikely.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I nodded, wondering what Enneaxi's tech might look like. Maybe the glitch we saw was nothing but their tech, a drone, or some other tool. Without understanding them we wouldn’t ever be able to distinguish their tools from the creatures themselves.

Max flipped to the back of the book and pointed, “Once again, more of their language.”

I looked at the page and saw more of the Enneaxi writing, symbols that were lines, chevrons, and angles, all parts of a triangle. There were even a few complete triangles. The text was impossible to read but arranged in snippets, just like the programming code that Max said he understood. It had been printed across two pages in an hourglass shape.

“The writing itself is constrained to two overlapping triangles,” I said.

Max peered and I pointed out how the hourglass shape was just triangles one over the other.

“Three upon threes upon threes,” he said.

“Not, really. It’s just two triangles.”

“Fair. They’re not obsessed, then. Three is just a preference.”

“Any idea what their writing in your book relates to?” I asked.

“I suspect the more powerful spells are at the end of the books. Since they built the simulation, these may be root commands… Uber cheat codes.”

Eastman came down the stairs with Emma in tow. He strutted down the stairs full of confidence, chest out, head high. Emma was a shadow, hunched, looking down at her feet as if afraid to trip down the stairs. Her face was puffy, she’d been crying.

At the bottom of the stairs, Eastman turned back and lifted an armored arm up for Emma to took. She did so blushing and two walked to our table.

“How you doing?” I asked Emma.

“I’m okay. Sorry.”

“You got nothing to be sorry about. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

Eastman dropped his arm and Emma’s hands. He looked at the table with the books and bow, then nodded to Emma, “I’ve got something for you as well.”

Next to his pack at the next table was the final wrapped gift. Like mine, it looked like a pole wrapped in cloth. He grabbed it and presented it to Emma.

Emma took it, holding it for a moment before telling him, “Thank you,”

She tipped it on one end, setting it on the floor. The cloth wrapping fell away, revealing a staff of dark wood. At its top was a blackened iron headpiece, two pyramids touching each other at the points. Another hourglass. I shot a look at Max, who seemed lost in thought.

“It’s… beautiful,” Emma said, throwing her arms around Eastman in a hug.

“Good, good,” he said while disengaging, gently pushing her to arm's length. He then turned and sat at the table next to Max, across from me, with an open seat for Emma next to him. “I was nervous that you all might have already found weapons on par with your level. Really glad that I could bring you tools that you can actually use.”

We all murmured our assent. Emma was busy studying her staff studying the haft closely. When I leaned in to see what she was looking at, I spotted the Enneaxi writing, runes carved into the dark wood.

Eastman continued, “We’ll need to see if we can’t upgrade your armor. We should do that here in town before you do anything else.”

“Oh! A shopping trip!” Emma seemed delighted. Max and I groaned, but not too loudly. New armor would be nice. The stuff we wore had been lifted off goblins and raiders.

“That just leaves a last question,” Eastman said. “Have you thought about having me join your party?”

Max was already nodding but I looked to Emma and asked, “What do you think?”

Emma looked surprised, “We could use the help. I would love to have you join us.”

“It's settled then,” Max said as he held out a hand. Welcome aboard, unanimously.”

Eastman grinned. It was broad, with pearly white teeth. He stood, took Max’s hand in both of his and then yanked the younger and smaller student up into a massive bear hug. He smacked Max on the back a couple of times so loudly that I thought ribs might snap. Eastman released him and then turned to Emma. She got the same treatment with as much enthusiasm but softer treatment. I was next in line and got crushed in his giant armored arms.

When the hugs were done, we all sat back down. Eastman wasted no time getting right to business. “Operator.”

There was a pause, then Eastman said, “Yup, they’ve agreed.”

“Team Slayer, have you agreed to take Sergeant Eastman on to your team?”

We all agreed.

I had to ask, “Team Slayer?”

“Would you prefer a different name, Miss Price?” Kane said.

“Most likely,” I looked at Max, and he shrugged. “How did we land that name?”

“It's in honor of Slade “The Slayer” Peterson. But the team can request a new name if you all would like.”

“I’m inclined to rename,” I said. Emma gave me a wounded look.

Eastman interjected, “I’m okay with Team Slayer. In honor of your fallen comrade and because you guys have kicked ass.”

“Same,” Emma said.

I looked at Max, he looked at the other two, then me, and offered, “Let’s table this for now.”

“I agree to the tabling,” Eastman said, “we have bigger issues to discuss right now.”

The three of us looked at him.

“We need to discuss next steps.”