My weekend left me sour. Not depressed or unstable, I was mostly past that because my issues had a light at the end of the tunnel. There was hope, a goal to work towards that would better everything. Plus Liz had been upset but she was trying to understand. That meant a lot.
Or maybe Liz was right and I had gone off the deep end. When she had asked what I might do if Xin was only a dream, well, hearing it out loud shook me. Hal Pal insisted she was real. There were a whole host of other questions which still hadn’t been resolved. Why couldn't we be together? Maybe I hadn’t earned it somehow.
Either way, Jeeves and I were clear on one thing. There was a spaceship to save from vaguely certain doom involving Advance Online’s clearly dangerous tasks. That was something to focus on and move forward with.
Hal Pal was registered as offline so I was on my own. My attempts at increasing skills by working the normal tasks yielded reduced results. Typical of a game, all the easy stuff started becoming worthless. Part of me really valued the role William Carver had played in Continue Online. Players without an idea of how to proceed could always go back to him and get some new direction. I had a few NPCs to talk to.
“Treasure.” I stood inside her workshop. The room seemed even larger and more crowded with devices. Half made objects lined the room.
Jeeves, the Hal Pal avatar within this game, had been spending a lot of time in her room. Part of me thought it might have a young crush upon the female [Mechanoid]. My size upgrade from spending contribution made her seem even smaller. Almost Xin’s height but with far too many metallic curves.
“Unit Hermes. How goes your contribution?” Her tired voice was running the show today.
“The contribution part's okay…” I had spent a few hours in the van trying to find new methods of skill increases. Most of it implied a need to find some planet to land on would help. Space games were all about traveling the universe.
“Unit Hermes, I have many things to do in order to maximize my own contribution. Please be to the point so I can help.” She looked away from the many screens about the room and smiled widely at Dusk. Her hand tapped on a table for him to come down.
Dusk, as usual, shook his head and stayed perched on my shoulder. The small creature seemed even more bored than normal. Treasure frowned and looked back to her images about the workshop.
“If you can share your goals, perhaps I can better advise you what methods to choose,” She said.
“I need to increase my capabilities as much as possible.” I responded quickly. We were on good terms, but Treasure had proven slightly impatient when her tired voice was in control.
“Programming growth only happens when properly challenged. Have you mastered the training room?”
“All fifty levels.” The last few rounds had been difficult, but with the increased mass and my [Power Armor] skill some of the simulated monsters hardly did any damage.
The neatest part had been using [Power Armor] mixed with the increased mass and a few energy core upgrades. I could basically go all tank mode while firing off a gatling gun style laser. Twenty seconds of comical bursting where a look of glee crossed my metallic features. I had cleared round forty-five cackling madly while Dusk gave me a strange look.
“Have you asked Iron what options he may have?” Treasure said. I focused on our conversation and tried not to get too distracted by these ability upgrades.
“Iron said he’s too busy getting the new ship's crew up to speed.” I had asked the larger man at least a dozen times with different words in hopes of triggering a follow-up challenge.
“Have you tried the independent ship? They may have people who are willing to battle if you’re seeking to improve your skills in such a way.” Treasure spared some attention to poke at her displays.
A screen came up showing a much less robotic ship. Parts of it seemed like a cast iron skillet merged awkwardly with dirt in rocket shape. I had no idea how it moved through space, but her pictures showed it traveling right next to us.
“That’s an interesting idea.” I thought about it more. Fighting against other players always rubbed me the wrong way. Too real, too much investment.
After Requiem and that war, I felt uncomfortable with what humans did to each in the name of quest rewards and pointless loot. My favorite thing so far about being a [Mechanoid] was how much stuff improved simply from spending contribution, meaning fighting over loot was almost worthless.
Treasure’s idea sounded like friendly sparring, with weapons. Neat, but well outside my comfort zone. That being said I did need to learn to deal with other players. My experience in Continue Online couldn’t be all about fighting monsters and walking around, or pretending to be strangers.
Maybe the Voices would throw some player versus player quest at me and let me actually hold Xin as a reward. Too bad my princess, as Doctor Litt put it, was in another game. My eyes clenched and I tried not to get too wrapped up in those thoughts. Now is what I needed to focus on. One step at a time. Don’t look back, don’t hesitate.
I smiled down at Treasure while nodding. “Why not? I think I can learn something there.”
It couldn’t be any worse than when Beth submitted one of my dance routines to the program creator for an outtakes video. That little stunt caused me no end of embarrassment and made going outside impossible for three days. In hindsight, it was kind of funny in a terrifying sort of way.
“Very well. Your ship, the Wayfarer’s Hope, should have a quick command to travel to other ships in the fleet. Utilize that to make up for your still lacking skills.” Treasure said with a slight increase in her sweeter voice.
I cringed a little. Her own abilities probably far outstripped my own. Even after leveling the skill ranks, improving my base stats, and Hal Pal putting points into the ship, we didn’t measure with Treasure’s luxury liner.
“Thank you!” I said while backing up. A project of some sort behind me clattered onto the floor. I whirled around and hit another object. This larger frame was getting me in trouble all over.
“Go. Provide those other beings a proper demonstration of Mechanoid superiority.” Treasure smiled and seemed amused by my clunky maneuvering.
“I’ll try.”
“Oh, and Unit Hermes, there are only a few hours left before we dock. Return then.” Her parting message caused a message to pop into existence. I blinked and started reading.
Task assigned! The Robot in the Arena
Treasure has nominated you as a combative representative of your race. Be wary, significant actions can impact the universe's perceptions of [Mechanoid]s in both positive and negative ways.
Other rewards may be provided dependent upon your performance while aboard the [WTS a Spaceship]. Go out there and show them what a real [Mechanoid] can do.
Neat. I practically skipped through the well-maintained corridors. Journeying to that other ship would certainly provide a distraction. Doctor Litt and Liz should agree that social interaction had to be a positive thing, even if it was in a game. Plus I was interested to see for myself how other races played. [Teeny]s, [Cricket]s, [Behemoth]s, each would be amusing to see in person.
Twists and turns later I practically ran into Emerald. The elderly looking [Mechanoid] stared up at my shoulders. His gaze clearly showed disapproval despite my own excitement at the increased metal muscle mass.
“You look silly.” Both his voices were similar, calm, and steady. It proved that some [Mechanoid]s might choose matching tones, or based on my own experience they picked [Core]s that were similar in function.
“I do feel too tall.” I tried to play off his comment as the addled musings of an old man. An old robot, man, inside a video game, who had insulted me.
“Height means nothing,” He said.
“I know. I increased my size to help with these new abilities, in order to contribute more.” My next method of deflection was to point out what it did to benefit myself and our little group.
“Mh. It’s how you use what you’ve got that matters.”
“Thanks.” Both eyes blinked for a while before trying to turn this around. “Why are you worried about it?”
“You’re going to fight with those fools across the way, correct?” Emerald said. He didn’t seem old and hunched like William Carver had, slightly shorter, worn around the edges.
“A few friendly matches.” I hoped the [WTS a Spaceship] players were friendly. It would be awkward to walk into a bunch of player killers while I was still fairly new.
“Watch them, study, but fight in a way they don’t expect. That’s the key to winning.” He said. I almost felt like the older [Mechanoid] might start jabbing me with a cane at any moment.
“Yeah. I have a few things I’d like to try.” Playing against the simulations didn’t go the same way players might. It was too stiff, to mechanical.
“You need to fight like a Mechanoid.” Emerald almost yelled at me, but his calm tones refused to get the proper edge.
“I am a Mechanoid.” My head shook quickly trying to shake off the mild annoyance. Customer service mode kicked in. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say.”
“The programming ability you learned. The one for Mechanical Minions, it allows you to target which part of your body will transform.” He said. I blinked a few times trying to figure out how he knew what skills I gained. Then again we both shared a [Core] type for the [Domestic Trainer] class. Maybe the [Mechanical Minion] was a class special ability.
“I know. I have been using the extra mass to make these small versions of Dusk.” I needed to do more research on this. My brain was still used to living in Continue Online where pretty much everything was a guessing game in regard to long-term development and how things went together.
This game gave me a small window asking for a pattern for the [Mechanical Minion] to take on. I picked Dusk because it would help me in the long run, having a bunch of little versions of him would make the real one harder to stop in combat.
Dusk didn’t agree. He attacked the first six I created, which meant I had to take time and reabsorb the mass back into my [Mechanoid] body. Doing that felt a lot like taking a piss in reverse and wasn’t enjoyable.
“No, other races, they all have their special tricks in a fight. So do we. With proper planning, you can use their own abilities against them.” Emerald shook his head and cut off what I had been about to ask. “Behemoths especially can inject plagues into certain matter, causing corrosion. If they do, throw that part away.”
“What, like, turn an infected arm into a minion?” I tried to picture how that would work. The limited attempts I made with [Mechanical Minion] normally pulled a certain amount of mass. Like shrinking a little to cast out a small creature.
“Exactly. Turn their own ploy against them. Show them that we are not to be trifled with.”
“That actually sounds kind of neat.” I wouldn’t expect a person to fall apart into smaller critters. So far there had been no upper limit to the amount, other than my own body size going down each time. Ten, maybe fifteen? All of them keyed to my [Domestic Trainer] commands. I smiled happily, using the [Power Armor] until it drained my juice completely then shattering into smaller Dusk’s could be fun.
“Good. Keep thinking that way. Keep trying new things. No one grows by standing still in life.” Emerald said. With that the older [Mechanoid] and his worn looking framework walked off.
I turned to watch the man go. It felt so oddly familiar, but the memory wasn’t coming to me. The marker floating above his head clearly indicated a computer generated character, so he wasn’t somehow my father in a video game. That idea made me shudder. Playing against my dad out here in space would be fairly awkward.
Dusk chirped in irritation. I nodded while putting my hands up in defense. “Okay. Right. No standing still.”
The [Wayfarer’s Hope] was in much better condition. Like myself it had a size upgrade. The cockpit had room for three people now, but so far Dusk was the only person besides Jeeves and me to use it. I tried to find a critter cage upgrade, but there was none on the purchase options list.
“Button. Button. Where’s the button?” Dusk leapt across the seats and canceled my musings. The engine of our ship hummed powerfully inside our small room. Light bounced off our confines and the floor started rolling up like an area rug.
Confirm Destination Plan – [WTS a Spaceship] Yes? No?
“Yes?” I said. A button popped up and Dusk almost beat me to this one too. Only a quick flailing of my hands in the small guy's face kept me in vague control of the space ship.
Dusk chirped and clacked his jaws but didn’t look super offended.
“I know how to press a yes button,” I said while raising one hand up with more drama than needed. Maybe I was too excited about such a simple action.
My ship quickly jetted between the [Wayfarer Seven] and this player ship for [WTS a Spaceship]. I tried not to over think the name, clearly humans were weird when it came to their choices.
The other ship even looked odd close-up. Having the [Wayfarer Seven] as my first ship gave me a certain standard of comfort. I was used to sleek edges, well-polished floors, and shiny surfaces. This thing looked almost cobbled together from a frying pan. If I took that and put a small mountain of dirt in it then randomly interspersed plant life then maybe it would look close to the [WTS a Spaceship]. I could see why they might want to sell it and get another one.
A message popped up telling me the ship owners had enabled free landing points. There was no cost for me at this time. I hummed happily. There were notes online about players setting up space bases and charging fees for other players to come aboard.
Musical chimes greeted my landing inside a dull looking hangar. I stepped out of the vehicle and took note of a force field between me and space. It seemed to hold in a curtain of air that was filled with yellowish powder. The substance swirled around almost bashing against the force field in spots. No warning messages came up so I assumed it was natural for this type of ship.
The [Wayfarer’s Hope] shifted to a dormant mode by collapsing into a lump of metals. [Mechanoid] items were convenient with how they transformed and adapted around a programming matrix. This giant ship I had landed in could probably grow too if people threw space mud at it.
Hopefully, no one would try and steal it somehow. I worried for a moment then shrugged. Nothing was really impossible to replace in here except Dusk.
“Don’t wander off alright, big guy?” I reached up and tried to scratch his head. The action felt surprising normal given our alternate forms.
“Hey!” Someone shouted at me. Their voice felt odd after spending so much time around the dual tone [Mechanoid]s. I turned while still rubbing Dusk’s head and looked at the other person. “Want to buy a spaceship?”
The man’s smile was downright silly. It went well with his short round body. [Teeny]s looked even smaller than I expected. Some sort of threading was knotted through his hair on one side and a pair of thick welding goggles hung around the player's neck.
“Got one already.” My head shook slowly and I thumbed to the lump of metal behind me.
“Damn. I keep hoping someone will actually buy this hunk of junk.” The other player stomped a tiny food on the ground. A smile seemed permanently etched on his face.
“Maybe.” The word came out slowly and I shrugged. I had no idea what a ship like this would cost. At least a few months of gameplay would be required.
“Ah well, who are you, and what are you visiting for?”
“Hermes. I got a task to drop by and join some arena thing. This is the right place, I hope?”
“Great. I’m TLM.” He held a hand up to shake. I took it and tried not to crush the offered limb. It felt so small, like a toddler's might. “Trial is this way.”
“TLM?” I asked.
“TheLittleMan. I used to have a real name, but the guild nickname stuck when I switched games. Hey, I ask all the newbies, but how did you get the quest for this?
“I asked?” My eyebrows wrinkled up a bit. What was so special about showing up to fight other players? I remember in my teenage years people used to do all sorts of player versus player things. It had never been my speed, but it wasn’t anything special.
“I’ve never seen a Mechanoid doing it. Your race almost never needs to.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“They sent me here actually. My current tasks weren't getting many character points.” I actually wanted to increase my skills, but this should help. Advance Online rewarded people for duels like they did for any other event.
“What? Really? You can just ask?” He almost squeaked in surprise. I tried not to give him a weird look and shook my head. The tiny fellow kept talking. “Your race must like you.”
“I guess.” I tapped over to the reputation window of my interface and stared. Sure, it was high, but that was also limited to the [Wayfarer Seven]'s consortium with minor gains across my entire race.
“Come on. We’ve got to move.” He said, the sharp squeak to his voice took a lot to understand. “The guys will love someone new popping in.”
Being on another race's ship was weird. The prospect of being here to battle other humans in digital combat also had me out of sorts. My ability to stay calm had improved over months of practice in Continue, but I still felt the rush of unease often. Exercises in positive thinking helped and soon the moment of panic was under control.
Did stage fright ever really go away? I got used to dealing with customers working for Trillium. Hopefully, these butterflies would eventually become a thing of the past. Actually choosing to do virtual battle against another person could only help.
I felt proud for deciding to pursue player versus player combat myself without any prompting by a quest from the Voices. Most of my own development had been done in order to complete their quests. James especially could press my buttons and get me moving with his questions.
“Another one for the rankings!” TLM shouted as we rounded a mud-walled corner. I stepped in behind the shorter player and saw a mess of other people.
“Hey!” An older lady said. Her face looked damaged from burns. She nodded in our direction but managed to get half a smile across. “Someone else is on this quest?”
“God dammit. A Mechanoid? Who actually plays those?” Another player said. I looked over to see a human with two side arms and a short sword on his belt.
“Just cus you picked boring human,” TheLittleMan said.
“Hey, fuck you, you’re in last place and suck.” The human player said. They all had something to say about that. Most of them seemed to be insulting the human player, and a few stood up for TheLittleMan.
“Last place? Rankings?” I tried to interject between all of them. Only TLM heard my question.
“Yeah. Newcomers start with ten points, you get a match with everyone here. A win gains you one of their points, a loss costs you one. Reach zero and you’re out.” TLM said to me. I’m not sure how he could stand looking up at everyone in the room, but he managed.
"What's the point?"
"Top three get picked by the Commander and move on," He said with a shrug of one tiny shoulder. I almost missed the motion entirely.
“Can I keep going?” I didn’t care about the points so much as the experience. There were a lot of people in the room to practice against. Assuming I could handle the first one without getting too worked up. I had to think of them as monsters like in the Continue Online universe.
“Oh sure. Those two have been basically trading their points back and forth for hours.” TLM waved at two other players. One had to be a [Cricket] race. He, she, glared at me through pitch black eyes. The other was human and decked out in heavy armor. "It’s kind of dull. Fresh blood will do us all good.”
“Can I watch?”
“Nope! If it’s your first night in a fight ring, you have to fight!” TLM laughed and many of the others joined in. My heart rate jumped hearing everyone find amusement at my confusion. This idea had been both good for myself as a person, and terrible.
“MrJohnson!” TLM said it in a squeaky accent. “You in for this one?”
“Sure.” A giant player rumbled. I looked over to see a huge player with dirt colored arms crossed. Each limb was easily thicker than my torso. Small vines wove in between the dirt looking like veins.
“Neat.” I tried to sound positive. The other players in the room laughed. TLM pointed to a bright light on the floor that had appeared.
MrJohnson has challenged you to a duel
* A win will provide [1] point
* A loss will remove [1] point
Will you accept?
Yes? No?
I hesitated for a moment and swallowed. Music played in my head and one foot tapped. The mental displacement exercises were helping keep me calm in the face of this kind of situation. My finger reached for the yes button.
The ground around MrJohnson and me sunk downward. Behind me, a shimmer of opaque blue rippled into being. I looked around and rapidly tried to understand what was going on, learning my surroundings in preparation. It seemed to be a four walled square with no cover points. Eventually, the ground stopped moving leaving us in a huge pit ten feet deep.
Other players stepped toward the edge and looked down.
So, my first player versus player combat in Advance Online involved me against an absolute giant. I bristled a little and felt upset that my increased mass meant nothing in the face of a [Behemoth] race. His head easily cleared the arena’s walls. They were far more impressive across the room then they had been in the character creation screen.
“I love newbies.” MrJohnson said. I got ready to flick on the [Power Suit] but chose not to activate it quite yet. The ability drained my energy and I would need it.
A small circle displayed in between us with a countdown. The [Behemoth] player MrJohnson smiled and cracked his rocky knuckles. Dirt flaked off and hit the ground. On behalf of all [Mechanoid]s in the world I felt annoyed by a mess being made. This place needed dozens of [ByteMite]s to show improvement.
The countdown hit zero and he lifted one arm in the air like a maestro signaling for increased volume. Flooring quivered in small circles and spikes shot out of the ground rapidly. More came and the ground shook. I swallowed a moment of panic then dove to one side. My feet were lifted off the ground as a few of the earthen cones dug into my legs dealing decent damage.
“Voices!” I shouted while lamenting how unprepared the [Behemoth] caught me. Another move created a wall of earth which bisected our square arena. My face slammed into the newest obstruction and I fell to the ground.
Dusk stood up above on a ledge and stare down at me.
“You helping?” I wrinkled my eyebrows together and looked at him. Dusk yawned then did his shrug move.
“His pet’s ignoring him. What a joke.” The human jerk from earlier said.
“Fine!” I got up and twisted behind the wall, barely dodging another wave of ground spikes. This newest earthen formation was starting to crumble.
If MrJohnson wanted to play a ranged game, I would give it a whirl too. This was practice for me after all, no time like now to try out new stuff.
[Power Suit] flicked on. My body shifted and things felt heavier. I readied my [Heavy Weapon Core]'s prime weapon, the large one that fired rapidly and tore through things. Metal flowed and rippled in my hands and handles formed. A grin crossed my face. I quickly looked at the crumbling wall then up to Dusk. He was staring across the room at a different location. That was my cue to switch target zones, MrJohnson was trying to flank me and that wouldn't be allowed.
Using Dusk like this was probably unfair. Using Dusk at all was generally horribly rude in the terms of gameplay. My little buddy had helped me in far too many ways.
“Agggh!” I couldn’t help but scream out while blasts cranked out towards Dusk’s area of interest. The wall shattered outward and clumps of dirt mixed with lasers.
“Woh shit.” Someone above commented. I heard a few of the others laughing.
“Whoop. Shit. Ah god.” MrJohnson covered his face with both mountainous arms. He seemed completely unprepared for my rampaging attack. I tilted the gun back slightly and aimed for his head. The chamber's rotational motions shook my hands and numbed sensations up one shoulder.
I still smiled in momentary exaltation. Feeling this kind of destructive power and getting the chance to use it was addicting. The gun's stream of blasts started to taper off and MrJohnson’s health had only gone down a quarter. This attack method had slaughtered miles of smaller creatures back on the [Wayfarer Seven], which meant [Behemoth]s had way too much survival ability.
I glared at the weapon and tried to remember Emerald’s advice. The weapon was useless without recharging so it was cannibalized for two [Mechanical Minion]s. An earthen wall shot up as my gun rapidly reconfigured into two cat-sized metal monsters.
My hand reached out for the next weapon being activated. A two lasered sword clicked on. I triggered the [Domestic Trainer] ability and set my mentally vacant metal minions on MrJohnson. Me and the dual sword followed up.
MrJohnson wasn’t sitting idle either. A swirl of yellow and green light flashed behind the wall and his health bar was slowly recovering. I growled and triggered another [Mechanical Minion], my body reduced in size accordingly for the third one. My reckless charge meant the third slid around trying to both gain a solid shape and follow the generic [Attack] command being issued.
The three pets and their metallic nails clanked across the floor. Nails dug out grooves in our dirt flooring. I jumped up and once again wished for the [Blink] ability back. My feet cleared over the walltop using a combination of [Brawn] and [Finesse].
"Shit!" He shouted. MrJohnson's face on the other side was focused on the three approaching tiny [Mechanical Minion]s, his eyes caught sight of me at the last minute.
I felt proud to see the other player's startled look. A sudden surge of dirty green and orange flashed on his arm. It swept across catching me and causing my [Mechanoid] body to go flying even higher.
MrJohnson ignored the munching monsters that had started to climb all over him like angry robot chickens. His health took minor damage and I was still airborne. Color swirled again, this time he lifted both arms and the ground beneath my form bubbled.
"The eyes!" I shouted at my little minions. My sword was tossed and commanded to shift into a fourth [Mechanical Minion]. By the Voices, I was going to push this ability for all it was worth. Even if I ended up smaller than TLM as a result.
"Nice try!" MrJohnson yelled back.
My former two-handed sword's hilt complied and turned into a super tiny monster. It followed the rest of my swarm's orders and tried desperately to get to MrJohnson's eyes. None of it stopped the latest forming spike from impaling me right in the gut.
"Ahhh!" I had no way to dodge midair and took it. My health bar lost a huge chunk. Belatedly I realized that each [Mechanical Minion] used also reduced my health bar's maximum. "Voices!"
"Here it comes." Someone behind me muttered, but the words rang. Mr Johnson was losing health steadily. I could see him through an eye that buzzed with static. The damage to my health was making visual signals drop.
"That newb's screwed."
Concentration was hard. Words spun through as time seemed to blur. Emerald had said throw it away. Treasure told me to show [Mechanoid] superiority. William Carver's legacy was to be a fighter. Shazam's mountaintop training. Requiem's abuse. I was no longer that same scared man. Those things mattered, even here in a new game.
I was the man in the arena and giving up was not an option. This was my road to travel.
Activating [Mechanical Minion]'s ability multiple times hurt worse than being impaled by a spike. The ARC feedback felt unkind. Vision buzzed in and out with static. Audio broke up. I screamed and ground my teeth.
Small metal versions of Dusk clumped together from my side. I could see feet and tails rapidly climbing down the giant spike holding me up. With each body formed my side had less mass and felt lighter. At minion number six I slid down the pillar's side and hit bottom.
Jerky legs and an arm pushed me from behind the pillar. MrJohnson didn't notice my liberated and broken status. He was too busy channeling that swirl of colors and energy into some giant effect. I grit my teeth, readied one good arm and fired my tiny wrist laser.
The mess of minions hit MrJohnson as the ground rumbled and rolled. Something big was happening, but I kept shooting.His health started rapidly dropping.
Everything down here felt like an earthquake was hitting. The spike I had been impaled on turned into a porcupine. Whatever it was doing didn't stop there. Everything heaved as it sank back into dirt and kept right on going. I ceased firing and pushed myself over in a roll while crying out from pain again.
My face planted into the ground and moving was even harder. My body didn't respond right due to the large chunks of it missing and my mental anguish. A message popped up telling me that somehow I was crippled and my [Energy Core] was damaged.
"Hah!" Someone shouted. "Look at that. He actually won."
I opened eyes that had closed. Braving combat was a bit different from handling an giant earthquake spell.
"Well played," MrJohnson said, his face looked like an absolute wreck. The health above him flashed red at one percent. My [Mechanical Minion] army was standing still. At some point, Dusk had leapt down and was inspecting the littlest with a sniff.
"Yeah." I tried to say. The fight had been over quick. Maybe less than a minute and it still felt like a rush. Adrenaline was rushing through and reducing some of the pain perception being presented by the ARC feedback.
I closed my eyes and tried to trigger the command to put myself back together. The abrupt change of direction from my swarm made Dusk hiss in annoyance. My body laid there huffing as the [Mechanical Minion] army merged with crazy [Mechanoid] structors. The pain ruling my brain dulled.
MrJohnson also lay there huffing while the crowd above chattered away. About ten minutes later I had mostly recovered. The mess of [Mechanical Minion]s took a long while to reabsorb. As soon as everything had settled back into place TLM sent me a challenge message.
"Let's go!" He shouted in his squeaky voice.
I sighed heavily and looked over the shorter player. My hand reached for yes and our arena set back up again. The [Behemoth] grumbled while climbing out of the forming pit. Moments later we were in combat.
That little guy was insanely hoppy. My eyes were lost as he rapidly ran in. I had enough time to take a deep breath and open fire with my Gatling laser. Next skill for me to learn would be the tried and true one for all heavy weapon users ever. The spray and pray.
The battles went on. Near the end of my first ten fights, the score was about even. Six wins, and four losses. I felt proud for even getting that far. TLM was actually hard to beat. Only a few lucky shots helped me take him down. Both the current top ranking players had easily destroyed me despite the tricks I pulled.
We had another hour to waste before our ships would reach [The Lone Tower]. TLM and two others kept up the challenges, but I think they were going easy on me. Playing around. I actually got a few pointers from the [Cricket] who had stomped me in the face earlier.
By the fifteenth match, I actually felt better about player fights. Not perfect, but far less worried than I had during the war, or dealing with Requiem. Everyone's abilities were different, trying to figure out ways to counter a [Cricket]’s disorient inducing chirps was hard.
A small crew of people walked onto the arena's floor. I was between matches resting my brain and had time to see them. All four people wore the same militarized blue and dark gray gear. They were clearly NPCs. In the front was a woman with an annoyed frown.
"We’re here. You three, based on the ranks you’ll each get a chance to plead your cases before the Mistborn. Use it wisely.” She turned right around without even sparing us a hello or goodbye.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Viola Queenshand.” The man next to me said. I looked down at the [Teeny], TheLittleMan. “She was the commander at the station we left.”
I tried to peg the name. It sounded familiar, but at the same it didn’t. A new message popped up to distracted me from the memory recollection attempt. Third place had benefits that were not expected in the least. Life in this game was actually looking up. Now if only I understood why talking to a [Mistborn] mattered in the slightest things might make more sense.
Attention Unit Identified as Hermes!
Reward for performance issued.
* Increased public opinion of [Mechanoid]s in this system.
* A single session with [Mistborn], results may vary dependent upon your conversation.
"Neat." I didn't realize these duels had left me in third place.