The servants let Colm wash up from the baths, and then dressed him up in this medieval doublet and tight-fitting pants. They were silent in the procedure and refused to talk to him the entire time.
He checked his missing lower leg which looked like it had been healed for several years. He tried reaching for it, and while his real hand touched his real leg, the avatar’s hand passed through and seemed to mimic what his brain would imagine.
He wondered what Viktor would be doing now—knowing he paid Colm to work, and he finished it in an hour. This place underneath weirded him out, and he thought about searching up the history of the school later. The old man wanted something, and it wasn’t a cleaner.
Colm looked at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t changed his face, but there never really was an option to. He looked marginally better here.
“These clothes do you a disservice, player,” the soft voice said. “Well-tailored clothings are difficult to produce here in the void. It’s an expensive commodity.” He extended his hand. “I’m Sodales, First Blade. To simplify, I am Her Serenity’s advisor and minister.”
He shook it. “Colm.”
It was the man from before. He was much taller than Colm, at around 6ft and a half tall. Thin, with a clean, long haircut, and neatly trimmed beard. He wore a black and gold coat and what seemed to be a military uniform. And, on his hand, was a cane. He gave it to Colm.
Colm inspected the thing. It was simple—black, while the handle was sculpted in the shape of a spider coated in gold.
“Like I said, an expensive commodity. It might not function as well as other enhanced clothings, but it's worth its weight in silver. Do you fancy something fresh to drink? Tea? We have juice as well as wine.”
“We don’t...”
“You don’t eat, yes,” he paused, then took a seat and sat down. “Sometimes I forget. My memory oft fails me. So much so that I find myself losing servants occasionally and I hardly notice their presence. Tell me, Colm, are you in need of credits?”
Colm leaned back on his chair. He thought for a bit. “Regrettably, I do find myself thinking about it once in a while.”
“Then allow me to dispense your regrets. I happen to have a few credit tablets that is taking up my precious space,” he reached into his coat and placed down a black, rectangular tablet with glowing numbers. It said: 10,000C. “It would be a shame to let it gather dust on a lonely library shelf. Your arrival has given me the opportunity to pass it to players, who are undoubtedly more sufficiently equipped to use it. However,” he raised the tablet. “I’m not ignorant to its value.” He placed it down, then gently pushed it across the table. “There is a matter of concern I must shamefully dispense to you.”
“And that is?”
“Her Serenity is sick. She is suffering occasional bouts of delusions.”
“She seemed fine when she spoke to me.”
“I assure you, it’s a complex matter I would advise you not to trifle with. The death of Her Serenity’s mother has pushed her to be the Void Lord of this domain. We couldn’t have foreseen the consequences that would affect her in the future. She was a child then, but she was and is a Void Lord, and that bears many responsibilities. Many of which that strain her peace of mind.
“Are you sure you have no need to fill your stomach, Colm? You’re denying the host to offer the guest noble courtesy. Is there anything I can do for you? And do call me Sodales, we have no need for honorifics here. It’s not a royal palace.”
“I feel just fine, Sodales,” Colm said. “Do go on.”
“Yes, yes. Where were we? Ah. Her Serenity’s unfortunate affliction. One example of this—sickness—would be forcibly kidnapping highly skilled players to fancy her childish curiosity of your culture, and no doubt, to find a way to resurrect her mother’s death. Ah, I see it in you Colm. You understand now. We are men of logic, so unless her mother is a player—which, I assure you she is not—resurrecting the dead is practically an impossibility.
“In any case, she is hoping that some rogue sorcery is hiding in the world, so she can save her mother. Alas, we may find that resurrection spell first before dispelling her delusions!
“So, I’m very discreetly offering you a chance. Tomorrow, an individual will be waiting for you in the courtyard. I’ll save you the hassle and assist you taking your companions to the nearest portal. And then you can safely deposit your credit to the bank. No strings attached except for a blindfold. After all, we don’t want you disclosing this location. I’m a reasonable man. I don’t make enemies of immortals I know can return from the dead and kill me. Do we have an agreement?”
He pushed the tablet forward. Colm took it, slowly, and felt the coolness on his hand. It was palm-sized, and it fit in the pockets of his pants. “I’ll think on it, Solades,” he said. “And I won’t forget your generosity and courtesy. These are wonderful gifts.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“And what gifts they are!” He stood up. “You shouldn’t keep Her Serenity waiting in the observatory. Off you go now.”
----------------------------------------
Colm was standing at the door. There were two guards posted here, fully uniformed, carrying a spear and a crossbow on their belt. One of them announced him to the Void Lord.
“Allow him in,” the voice called.
Colm limped inside.
The observatory was less of an observatory but more of a circular library, full of bookshelves and papers and tables. The ceiling was a dome, fitted with a large window that now allowed the sunlight to filter through the room. It reminded him of the Spirit’s library.
“Your Serenity,” Colm said, bowing his head.
She stood up behind the large desk and pointed at the couch. “Take a seat, player,” she said. Red eyes stared at him. “There isn’t much I can offer you, I’m afraid. If you have anything you require, I’ll see if I can procure it.”
“I’m interested in having some questions answered, Your Serenity.”
“Questions,” she smiled. She sat down on the couch. “There’s too much in the world, and not enough answers. Has Solades extended his courtesies to you yet? No doubt he mentioned my affliction in passing.” She sighed. “Are you alright? Is your leg feeling... well, I want to apologize for that.”
“I don’t feel anything in my leg,” Colm said. “Which is a good thing.”
“I owe you some explanation. When I told them I want highly skilled players, destroying a community and kidnapping players is the least of what I want to happen,” she paused. “But I feel it necessary, or they’ll get suspicious.”
Colm leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“I told them I wanted to see a player for my personal entertainment,” she said. “But truthfully, I wished for something more substantial. A cooperation with players. A topic my subjects vehemently disagree with.”
“I don’t see how putting a curse on me helps.”
“That’s an unforeseen accident,” she said, and she looked hurt. “I can rectify that mistake by offering you an alternative means of using arcane, but I haven’t yet found a cure for the curse.”
Colm leaned back. He wondered how she would react if he mentioned something about their inner politics. “Half an hour ago, I was offered 10,000 credits to leave with the other players.”
“Truly?”
He gave a nod.
The Void Lord stood up, walked over to the desk and poured the goblet some wine. It was sometime after that she finished drinking and looked back at Colm. She seemed shaken. “I will pay you for your services,” she said. “I can’t offer you credits, not as much as they do, but I can promise you something more.”
She placed a vial on the table.
Colm held it up. It was transparent like water.
“Your curse, Lothar’s Sin, has two properties. One of which is the complete inability to use arcane. No more spells, no more magical enhancements or any such useful utilities. You are the one who wounded Volan, correct?”
Colm nodded slowly.
“Drink it. You’ll see. It’s not poison.”
Colm opened the vial, then hesitated. “What do you want me to help you with?”
“My mother is alive,” she said. “I want you to help me find her.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“There are certain cores scattered across the void. I want you to find them for me,” she paused. “And then you can forget about the previous offer this individual offered you. That vial is only the beginning of it. I can send people to overworld to find credits if you wish.”
“I do prefer credits,” he said. “Though it does make me wonder why you’re not sending your people on this treasure hunt.”
“Because these artifacts might mysteriously disappear,” she said. “I envy you players. You’re immortals, you never face hunger or thirst, nor does anything in the world can be a threat to your life. I’ve heard stories of your glass cities. It all sounds so beautiful.”
Colm looked down at the vial. “I’m not so sure about that.” He looked up. “You know, you remind me of myself.”
“How so?”
He smiled, and shrugged. “I’ll help you out.”
He drank the vial.
Lothar’s Sin has affected your vitality severely. Skills will be limited to the {Void Skills} category.
Prerequisite achieved. You have the opportunity to change your {Undesignated} Class to {Void Walker} Class. Accept? Class Accepted. You are now classified as {Void Walker}.
Special Property Detected. You have the opportunity to change your {Void Walker} Class to {Legion Walker} Class. Accept?
“Legion Walker?”
“A gift,” she said, looking away. “And a necessary one. You’ll need it.”
Class Accepted. You are now classified as {Legion Walker}.
Skill slots available: 2
Lothar’s Sin has affected your vitality severely. Skills will be limited to the {Legion Skills} category.
“Nice to meet you Colm,” she said, bowing her head. “I am Qversenesia the First, Void Lord of the Lost Front.”
----------------------------------------
Sometime later, he received a notification from Pavetta. She messaged, “The twins are asking where you are. You coming home on Sat-Sun?”
He closed the notification, pulled his knees to his face and sighed. He silently wished he could just forget about everything out there and remain down here forever. But that would be akin to chasing a ghost, and he would never be able to justify the price that comes with it.
He wanted to tell himself he was doing it for credits. But Noah was right. The sunrider was right. There was something genuine here in the game, with these AIs and their problems and their world.
Should he earn enough credits... perhaps he could justify playing the game as a full-time job?
----------------------------------------
Information Statistics Status Name: Colm (Official) Class: Legion Walker Vitality: 1 Race: Human (Official) Rank: Undesignated Agility: 1 Guild: — Skill Slots Available: 2 Arcane: ———