FA Chapter 2 Metaverse

Bosingwa materialised within a room. The walls were all constructed of wood which appeared to have aged in some parts and the small simple room was composed of a small table, a chair and a bed. This was his virtual room within the metaverse, requiring only a single credit for each day in the outside world. In this virtual world, the time had been dilated to pass at twice the speed of a day in reality.

Night had fallen. The day had been spent aimlessly wandering the streets of Kampala city, reacquainting himself with the city. From visiting the floating glass scrapers, to those ground scrapers that sunk into the ground. Many things had surprised him, brought him joy, distaste, or happiness. He had enjoyed the day.

He had told himself to wait until the next day to purchase the serum, but the excitement and disease called impatience prevented that.

He transformed into a shadow that appeared by the door, opening it and rushing away without closing and locking it. But he didn't even care about all that, simply sprinting away through the narrow alleyways. These were the slums of Kampala city, a mirror of the real city, though one that appeared to have been in the medieval ages, where technology hadn't yet appeared. Most of these shacks were made of primitive wood sourced from outside the city itself. There was rot, skeletons and trash everywhere. This was a forsaken place that would only be cleaned up once a year. Anything to with technology had been banned within this specific virtual world.

He made sure that the sword strapped to the side of his waist was secure enough even as he ran along. These slums weren't safe at all. If you didn't have the strength to protect yourself, then there was chance that you would be robbed, or worse, have your avatar die. Ten thousand credits were needed for the resurrection, a price he didn't want to pay at all. He had accumulated enough money for both a serum and a few months of livelihood. If he had to construct a new avatar on top of that, then he would have to skimp on the meals for a while.

While passing through another alleyway, the sound of piercing air caused a twitch in his ears, alerting him to something incoming. And before the projectile could get to him, he kicked off the ground and leapt into the air dodging the small thing, only for a shadow to block the sun from above, from someone descending right towards his face, with an armored foot aiming for his head.

With both hands in the form of an X, he blocked the attack but he was pushed back onto the ground, where another blur entered the corner of his eyes. The assassin in the shadows had chosen the perfect timing.

Bosingwa inwardly cursed but his reaction wasn't any bit slower as he withdrew the sword at his waist, slashing out with such impeccable timing that the blurry figure had his head severed from the neck.

Though, the moment his feet made contact with the ground, he leaped towards the wall, with another small black blur striking where he had just been. This time, he finally managed to see what the thing was. It was an arrow, probably from an arm crossbow.

His feet traversed the walls of the wooden shacks as he headed towards the one who had attacked from above. The man was covered in a metallic armor that even concealed his face from view.

That was what thieves did, conceal their faces. It had been encoded within the metaverse that an avatar had to be the same as the person in real life, down to the smallest of moles. Trying to hack into and altering your appearance would alert the administrative AI making it so that you would become locked out of the metaverse forever as punishment. So, those who wanted to appear anonymous had to resort to the most primitive of methods.

With a clang, the blade only left a white mark upon clashing with the armor, with some inscriptions lighting up on its surface. He guessed that some had to be related to force dispersion, because with the power of his slash, the armored person should have taken a step back.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"An enchanted armor. Though, with how cumbersome it looks, it's probably a shoddy work."

Bosingwa spoke with a grin even as he leapt back. A shadow took this time to sprint out of the alley towards his side with such speed that he couldn't make out its features, though he focussed on the danger that was the dagger heading for his heart. For a brief moment, alarm appeared on his face...

Below his boots, a rune lit up and he sprang backwards as if he had been grasped and pulled out of the attack's path, leaving behind an after image which the new assailant plunged into.

But without even a moment to spare, his body reappeared within the same space, where he stabbed the petit figure in the back, effectively killing her.

After those series of fast movements, he directed his attention towards the armored man only for his eyes to catch emptiness. The man had vanished, probably having run off while using the woman as a distraction.

"As expected of experienced thieves." In a very practiced manner, Bosingwa searched through the dead bodies only to be dissapointed. They hadn't been carrying anything of true value with them. Even the crossbow and its bolts wasn't valuable enough.

There was absolutely zero security within the slums. With a shake of his head, he resumed his journey towards the tall buildings in the distance. He had already contacted the person who was about to provide him with the information, and the meeting place appeared to be within the city proper.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips the moment he made it out of the slums and into the street of a wide road, where carriages being pulled by beasts entered his sight. Many people were on the streets too, carrying all manner of weapons with some having their runic symbols activated as if wanting to proclaim to everyone that they were rich. Swords, shields, spears and all manner of weaponry...it looked primitive, but if these weapons could be manifested in reality, some could rival the laser guns and plasma ejectors in destructive ability.

Not one for attention, Bosingwa joined the crowd and moved in a predetermined direction, passing by shops. Talismans, weapons, runic garments...basically everything that a person could possibly need was on these streets. He paused for a moment at particular shop, directing his gaze through the glass and onto the black sword floating above a dais. There was a resonance he felt with it, but he couldn't afford it. So, with a shake of his head, he continued on.

After a long walk that took almost an hour, he found himself standing in front of an inn with five floors and a plaque of a beautiful lady clad in a red scaled dress. She was lying down, one eye in the middle of a wink, and the bountiful bosom had its valley towards him, evoking lustful thoughts and desires.

'A brothel!'

Bosingwa was taken back by the meeting place, even double checking multiple times to make sure that he had just arrived at the right place. His contact had simply sent coordinates...and they had led him here...

With a sigh, he adjusted the hood over his head and walked into the establishment, whose first floor resembled a bar and restaurant.

A woman, with the same appearance as the plaque's image was on a stool, playing a guiter while her melodious voice captivated the few men listening in on the music. Bosingwa was ensnared for a moment too. That long slit of the redscaled dress left little to the imagination as her pale juicy thighs became exposed due to her sitting posture. He even had the illusion of catching something black and lacy at the ends of the slit.

'Now am tempted to buy a pod!"

"Here!"

Someone called out. Bosingwa felt that he was out of his element here. Someone like him who had never dated found his eyes involuntarily drawn to the skimpily clad waitresses. Their tantalising thighs and bountiful bosoms were just too inviting! Not to mention that captivating woman!

But ultimately, he reminded himself of why he was here in the first place and averted his gaze, schooling his facial expression into one of neutral apathy.

"Why did you have to choose such a place?" Bosingwa grumbled after sitting himself upon one of the high chairs at the front of the bar.

"What is this fake complaint I hear? Weren't you oogling those women just a moment ago?" A feminine voice leaked out of the figure seated at his side on another high stool.

"When things are put on display, can you resist the urge to window shop?" Scoffed Bosingwa.

"Heh! Do you want the information or not?"

The one beside him was wearing a mask and a large robe that was concealing their entire body inside it. If not for her clear voice, he might have failed to identify whether he was chatting with a woman or man.

"Let me make this clear. The price of the information has to be the same! No inflation!" Bosingwa said firmly. He had last spoken with her a few weeks ago. He was scared that she might raise the price because of his delay.

"I am not one to chase away a potential returning customer with such tactics."

"So, where so I have to go, and what do I have to do?" Bosingwa asked.

"Come now. Payment first!" The woman demanded, her voice filled with displeasure.