Chapter 12: [Basic Campfire]

I looked at my hands and saw they were spectral. I sunk into the natural familiarity of my state, as a spirit again. For so long, I had yearned for my skeleton to be whole. Now that I had tasted my wish, I saw how prisons can become comfortable. I felt normal. And angry.

I floated to Belvan, so relieved at the sight of him, my rage could not keep hold of me. He was a bastion of solace in an unfamiliar world. Of course, I could never tell him.

I tried to say, “Belvan, old friend…” but I had forgotten that my spirit form had no voice.

“Good morning,” he said. “How may I be of assistance?”

Belvan was stationary, gazing off into mid distances.

I waved a ghostly hand in front of him, but he did not react. This entity was like my Belvan in every visible way, a tall, spectral skeleton with a monocle, mustachio, and sand swirling within an hourglass talisman. But he was not behaving the same. I tried to touch him… and a menu appeared.

“Good morning. How may I be of assistance?”

1) I’m lost. Help! (Marks map with your body’s location)

2) I need directions to the nearest town.

3) I’m dying too much. Can you suggest a more level-appropriate zone for me?

4) I’m interested in Spirit Magic training or quests.

5) Anything interesting going on in the area?

6) Know any jokes?

I was flabbergasted. This thing was not like my Belvan. I ignored his menu options, peering around at the graveyard. Unlike mine, this one had no fence. I toyed with the idea of staying a spirit. I could resume my [Plunder Memory] campaign, haunting the lands until no players remained in the Realm. Questline be cursed.

But this graveyard was on a hill, and as I gazed down across the grey, swaying grasses, I spotted my skeleton crumpled in a pile near the Gremlin. Someone appeared out of thin air, and began looting my stuff!

My rage boiled over into a glop of ectoplasm.

My Belvan would have warned me. Who was this impostor? I re-engaged his menu and smashed option 1.

“Your body lies in a dale, not far away. Allow me to mark your path. Good luck, traveler.”

I looked back at the thief, ransacking my [Grim, Dim Purple Coat]. There were subtle streams of turbulence drifting in my corpse’s direction. Was that Belvan’s role here? To give players a little push back to their body’s location? Based on Azwold’s descriptions, this Belvan had ‘NPC’ energy.

The mage had suggested every graveyard houses a Belvan. But I had no time for menus. Not that I would seek death; Azwold was right to despise it, but it was an obvious inevitability. Now, my skeleton was calling me. I could not stand by and abide this robbery, no matter how comfortable my Spirit Realm jaunt had been.

I nodded to Belvan. He was unresponsive. Disappointed, I departed his yard.

The instant I was in range, I leapt back into my bones.

But the thief was ready and moved lightning fast compared to me.

I felt the chill of a blade separate my skull from my spine.

I faded again. Things went black again. I was with Belvan again.

My inability to scream deepened my frustration. I wanted to yell at him for answers. How was I supposed to revive if this rotten player intended to slay me the moment I rose?

I seethed, rushing back downhill to the Gremlin again.

I observed the thief as an invisible ghost.

She sat cross-legged in a patch of dirt. There was a progress bar above her head. She was crafting something; a [Basic Campfire]. She sat back, chuffed at her haul; my items.

The level of nonchalance most players displayed annoyed me.

How had she hidden from me in that jacket? Neon yellow and matte grey studded leather, her gear was form-fitting, but tough looking. Her hair was the same, short, yellow, spiky.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

She was picking at my lockbox with a nasty-looking dagger, gleaming and silvery sharp. I saw another snapped to her belt, like a shard of ruby with a leather-bound hilt.

I could not learn her level as a ghost. Nor her class, nor anything useful. Not that I could learn them as a skeleton either. If she could kill me in one hit, then her level surpassed my measly level 8. I knew she: goes invisible, kills me in one hit, is fast, and steals. Were there more thieves than not in this game?

She returned to rifling through my coat and pulled out the [Gremlin Signal]. No. I abandoned caution and leapt into my bones.

I rose, attempting to do so quietly. Then I crept around the other side of the Gremlin. I stared at her through the window glass.

“Whatcha doin’ over there, hmmm?” she sang out.

Drats. She had seen me.

“Relinquish my items and begone!” I said in my spookiest tone.

She laughed.

I growled.

“Hey, you want a little more stabby stabby? Just say the word.”

“I want nothing of the sort,” I said.

“Kay, well,” she said, standing, “look.” She sheathed her dagger and held her hands up.

I made no move. Sheathed daggers meant little for one so speedy.

“Come join me by the [Basic Campfire], won’t you?” she smiled.

Skeptical, I stayed by the Gremlin’s hood. I knew that the metal between us would not stop an attack, but I refused to go closer, regardless.

“Okay, whatever. But, what even are you? Kinda look like a Spirit Mage, but I’m getting some strange vibes here.” She showed me her tablet, tapping it. It was translucent with bright wiring inside it and had a prism and rainbow sticker on the back. Interesting.

“Is that so?” I said.

“Listen, guy. Don’t mess with me. What are you?”

“A Spirit Mage. You said so yourself.”

She unclasped the ruby dagger and balanced it on a fingertip, “I can camp your bony buns all day. Just sayin’.”

I emitted a wheeze, and my bees stirred. Perhaps I should have said nothing. Alas.

“We are at an impasse,” I said. “I might know less about myself than you do.”

“Sure. Right,” she said. “Fine.” She retrieved an [Ornamented Magnifying Glass] from a hidden pocket, and performed a slow, precise dance, with arms held up toward the sun.

Exposed and illuminated, I fell under [Spell: Scan]

“Okay, so you’re exactly what you look like,” she said. “A spirit mage minion without its master? How the heck did you pull that off? But you’re so low level. How did you equip this gear? Explains the bone foot and peg leg, I guess? So are you a player piloting a minion, or?”

“Oh, you know. The game is, uh,” I paused to think. What had the mage called my questline? “Glitched out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why does your name say ‘Gnarlroot_the_Eld?’ Doesn’t sound like a player name to me. Isn’t there a quest with a name like that?”

“Errr,” I said, “Nay. You must have things wrong. ‘DarkNeon,’ that’s you, right? Well, what if you’re a quest? I wouldn’t have the foggiest.”

“This makes no sense,” she said. I detected an excitement in her tone.

“Aye,” I said, “A proper enigma. Now unhand my things and leave me be.”

“Yeah, alright.” She tossed my [Grim, Dim Purple Coat] to the grass near my feet.

I stared at DarkNeon while she continued digging at the lockbox mechanism. A progress bar pinged green and my treasure popped like a jack-in-the-box. She handed me the box with a wink.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she said, skulking off. She shimmered, enveloped in something like translucent bubble skin, then vanished.

(Friend request: DarkNeon)

A ‘friend request’? First she wants to murder me and take my loot, now she wants to be friends? Bah. About as good a friend as Azwold.

But I supposed making contacts in this world could prove beneficial. I tapped “accept” on my tablet. Friendship. What joy.

I snatched my [Eld Rib] from the box and an inexplicable sensation coursed along my vine-works.

[Player Minion has reached level 9!]

It was as if—along with an in-game level—I had gained a level in my scope of awareness. A vague sense of having played Realms of Lore before entered my mind. Had I been like Azwold or DarkNeon; like the people behind the avatars?

My mind took an abrupt turn toward a memory; death echoes. Was I drawn and quartered on the deck of a ship? A deep confusion swirled. The memory had lost fragments of substance, blurring.

There had been a nagging oddness to my memories as the Eld, ever since I awakened. Something was off and acquiring my rib brought the nagging feeling into sharper focus. The concept of my new reality as one inside a video game was demystifying.

I tried to recount some things Azwold had said; concepts I had not quite grasped at the time. His future ramblings should make more sense now, I hoped.

I conjured my tablet and stared at it. The icons, menus, maps, et cetera, they melded from looking like alien language, more toward something I could muddle through. It was still plenty boggling, but not entirely so.

As I studied the map, I determined my current zone’s location. Average level of enemy mobs: Lv.17-21. Knowledge of ‘aggro ranges’ seeped into my understanding; the higher a hostile creature’s level compared to mine, the further it would come running to attack me. My stealth options were nil. If I tried to walk far from the Gremlin, a bad time was assured.

I needed help to travel far, lest I fall ill again.

I gazed at my toes, realizing my lack of pants or boots might have given away my disguise. With my new [Grave Buckle] equipped, I felt stronger, but I looked a pillock wearing a belt and no trousers. I pondered a trip to town with my treasure box gold, but the scepter’s radial malady dogged every plan. I found I lacked the will to test my wandering range from the Gremlin.

What I needed was the scepter’s ring. I would steal it from the mage. I would find a way. A thought flitted to me; could my new ‘friend,’ help me rob Azwold? I pulled out my tablet and looked for a friend’s list. It was easy to access because the rogue had sent me a request.

I touched DarkNeon’s name on the list and communication options appeared, but I hesitated. I barely trusted Azwold, though fate had bound us. Was it wise to trust another just because she had opened a box and promised to keep me a secret? Nay, I thought not.

“Whatcha waiting for?” came a whisper from right next to me.

I jangled, dropping my tablet. It poofed into digital vapor.

“I knew you’d be calling me soon,” said DarkNeon, “so I’ve been chillin’.”

“Ah,” I said.

“Wanna go kill some monsters or something?” she said, overeager.

“No,” I said. “Why are you so… enthusiastic?”

“Are you kidding? You’re a talking skeleton. Something super weird is going on,” she shrugged. “I like a mystery. Don’t we all?”

“I would like my leg bones to be a mystery,” I said. “Where can I get pants?”

“Dreen has shops. I’ll come with!”