Chapter 56: Favors

“I dropped my [Eld Molar] in a river,” I said. “It is lost.”

“Lies!” Ralos screamed. And in that moment, I recognized the dark fear that creeps up when insanity forces one to treat a fool seriously. “I will make you walk every inch of waterway in the game. Without breaks! It’ll take years. Neither of us will sleep. You don’t have to breathe underwater! Give me no more lies. You know what? Air Mystic, Light Rogue... slay each other. Now.”

DarkNeon vanished. Relja swiftly cast [Spell: Circle of Silence]. For a moment, the whirling of her personal cyclone was the only sound.

“The rogue’s higher level, so I’m betting on her,” said Ralos.

“The molar is inaccessible,” I said. “Call them off.”

“Incorrect. Inaccessible is incorrect. Tell me something correct. This game is old now. I am ready to win now.”

Relja’s circle of silence was ending, and she prepared to cast a levitation spell the moment it did. DarkNeon appeared, jumping and trying to slash, but too low. The Rogue began her casting animation for [Spell: Prismatic Daggers], but the Mystic responded by casting [Spell: Dust Ruse II], deflecting the sharp rainbow projectiles, flinging them all about the yard like liquid fireworks.

As we observed their battling, I wondered if they were fighting Ralos’ influence more-so than each other; stalling.

I glanced toward my tree and noticed something unexpected. The knot-of-wood portal dilated, un-crunching itself into a skull-sized hole.

I wanted to grab my binoculars to see better, but that might alert my enemy to a potential surprise attack. I thought I saw Ursamigo, with a crowded hallway of raiders behind him; all casting and concentrating, holding the portal open with great effort.

Despite my caution, the noise of their struggle drew Ralos’ eyes away from my party mates’ duel.

“Go away,” said Ralos, walking over to smack the legendary druid with a stick like a bad dog. Simple, but effective, Ursamigo lost his concentration momentarily, and the portal shrunk an inch.

As it continued to fade back into a solid knothole, something like a chain of multicolored holiday lights tugged their way into my graveyard through Gnarlroot’s belly. The fae charm circled around us, a dozen glowing orbs of light working in concert.

Ralos lost his mental hold on my dueling party members. Too distracted, he waved his arms as if swatting at mosquitoes.

The twelve faeries flew around us, carving luminous tracers through the air, oscillating and orbiting like wave particles. They broke off in groups of three, forming color wheel triads. Each triad summoned a portal.

And from the first portal, out stepped the spirit of an Earth Tree. Like a thick, leathery bonsai, out came Enttang. An old and twisted oak with a greyscale spectrum of weathered bark came next. He was called Ol’ Snagglebranches. Lunirang arrived next, a mighty juniper from far away marshes. And last, like a sister to Ol’ Snagglebranches, came Gnarlroot herself.

They loomed tall and spectral over us. Reaching their boughs across to one another, they joined in a ring of branches and ancient leaves. A hum swelled to fill us.

Ralos summoned a sleek pod which hovered above the ground like a mount-sized teardrop of mercury. The top slid open, and he prepared to depart. “I’m not sticking around for this,” he said. “To be continued? Right, then.”

But the lumbering spirit of Gnarlroot grabbed the tail of Ralos’ mount, preventing forward movement.

And then Vick5 clutched Ralos’ sleeve with his good arm. Azwold ran to grapple, tugging him down from his futuristic mount. DarkNeon leapt upon him with knives out while Relja stood to a flanking side, buffing us with air spells.

“Get off me!”

The Earth Trees sustained their humming.

A game message came to us, like a telepathic understanding rather than spoken voice or written message:

[Analyzation complete. Ralos, level 50 Mentalist, has been judged a game rules aberration. Action: full character reset]

And then with an anti-flourish, Ralos’ avatar descended, spiraling down the leveling ladder. Gear and experience and spells disintegrated from his flustered fingertips.

He reverted to a level one player with no classification. A menu box appeared in front of him [Please choose a school of magic and available starting zone]

“What!” Ralos wailed. “No!”

“He’s right,” said Azwold. “Starting over is too lenient.”

“What’re you thinking?” said DarkNeon, holding Ralos’s wrists to the dirt.

“He’s the true game aberration!” Ralos squealed, squirming. “Gnarlroot the Eld! Reset him, too!”

“Oh now he cares about fairness.” DarkNeon chuckled.

“I think someone needs their memory plundered,” said Azwold. “What do you think, Eld?”

“Gladly,” I said. I wrapped my finger vines up Ralos’ squirming jaw, behind his ears and up the back of his scalp; scouring his mind, stealing memories and leaving forgetful holes in their place.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ralos growled and screeched incoherently, but grew quieter with each passing moment, until finally silent. He wobbled in place, enjoying the serenity of emptiness.

Relja held her orange potion in front of her, swirling it. “There’s still like a third of this stuff left. I’m going to pour a drop on him. Any objections?”

Nobody spoke.

“Hey, little nubby cakes,” said DarkNeon. “This potion will help you cheat and get ahead to level twenty super fast. Want some?”

“Of course,” said the un-classed level one player. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Here you go, hun,” said Relja with a smile.

Noob Ralos greedily gulped the remaining potion, grinning as the orange goo oozed between his teeth.

He burped a gurgle and his eyes went wide. Then the potion tore Ralos pixel by pixel, warping him away.

“It is fortunate,” said Vick5, “that Medett provided imbibing warnings.”

Another telepathic message came to me:

[Analyzation complete. Gnarlroot the Eld, level 36 Skeletal Minion, has been judged a game rules aberration. Action: full character reset, with [Spell: Wish] modifier].

“What, no!” Azwold ran to grab the tree spirit of Gnarlroot, but found her intangible.

“You can’t get rid of the good guy!” DarkNeon yelled.

The fae charm completed their portal summonings and the spirit trees dissipated in the cold breeze as they did. Then the faeries resumed their circling dance, gravitating toward Belvan, and melding into him. His spectrum aura quavered at his spectral edges.

“Good evening,” came a voice. “How may I be of assistance?”

Belvan walked to me and took his [Hourglass Talisman] from around my neck. He replaced it around his own neck, then regarded me.

“You have done as asked, Gnarlroot the Eld,” said the Belvan-Charm. “The last step of your epic questline remains unfinished, and the Realm owes you a debt of gratitude. You have sacrificed your next karmic destination to protect us all.”

“What do you mean ‘sacrificed’?” I said. “If I finish the quest now, will I move on to where I was meant to?”

“Aren’t you tired?” said the demigoddesses-in-Belvan. “Why don’t you take a nap? You’ve earned it.”

I yawned. I was indeed deathly sleepy. I glanced to where Hap Emerson’s leafy blanket lay, then I looked to my Gnarlroot, still and quiet again.

“Perhaps a little rest would do me good,” I said. I walked to my tree and touched her bark. I felt something like my phantom hand ache, but warmth instead of pain. Comfort instead of emptiness. I basked momentarily in the purity, then faded away down into the ground.

“Where’d he go?” asked DarkNeon.

“The Eld made a wish to me,” said Belvan’s voice, “to protect Realms of Lore. But deities help those who help themselves, as the saying goes. He shall remain, to watch over the Realm. His yard will continue to transform as he dreams it into further being. With time, Gnarlroot the Eld, the neutral boss monster of his graveyard dungeon, will rise. A watcher.”

“So that’s it?” said Azwold. “What about my quest?

“The graveyard gate is open,” said Fae-Belvan, “the Realm awaits.”

And then a dozen orbs of light swirled out of the NPC, zooming off in perfectly oppositional directions.

“I must advise that we locate Ursamigo with haste,” said Vick5. “We must assess the remaining Telemoon presence and determine the best course of action regarding their pocket servers.”

“Damage control,” said DarkNeon. “Right, there’s still lots of mess to clean up.”

Azwold was standing, staring up into the dark sky.

“You’re going to leave the last bone lost, right?” said Relja.

Azwold looked at her. “I need to find Berem.”

“Why?” DarkNeon’s eyes narrowed.

“To make sure the [Eld Molar] is safe. That it’s not in a dinosaur’s belly still. But... also to see if we can make the siblings range extenders. Right Vic?”

“We must not complete ‘Gnarlroot the Eld’s Stolen Bones’ quest, but I have determined that constructing range extenders for the sibling NPCs is theoretically possible. I will assist. But we should construct a new arm for me. Efficiency first.”

“I know a prototype model,” said DarkNeon.

“Little big, though,” said Relja.

“I approve of the concept,” said Vick5. “Let us locate the prototype arm and construct a similar model down to scale.”

Azwold resumed sky gazing. He retrieved the [Gremlin Signal] from his inventory and pressed the button. But nothing happened.

With his head hung low, he slogged to where the Eld had vanished, noticing the [Helm Wheel] lying on the ground. In the middle of the wheel, a tiny sapling had sprouted, growing up through the steering column hole.

Azwold leaned down and gently rubbed one of the sprout’s little leaves.

“Hey, look,” said Relja.

A golden insect swooped in from the winter black sky, buzzed a few circles, then landed on the sapling. It bent under her weight.

The colony came buzzing in her wake—a chaotically ordered mimicry of the faerie’s circular orbits—and zeroed in on the [Hive Scepter Shard]s strewn about the graveyard grounds. They set to work collecting the shards.

Azwold was wide-eyed, watching. The bees were taking back their favors owed, one [Hive Scepter Shard] at a time. And in their place, the colony was warping in [Gremlin Part]s. Making trades like the Eld’s ghostly neighbors had; bargaining with buried bones for passage out of the yard.

Azwold’s sour disposition improved at each new [Gremlin Part] that clanked or rattled down onto the dirt or lawn. His eyes were aglow like a child’s in a robotics tinkering shop. He looked to Vick5, who seemed keen on interest, too.

The Queen of Bees floated from the [Helm Wheel] over to the [Hive Scepter]’s hilt, gaining assistance from half the colony to lift it once they finished with [Gremlin Part] delivery. The trade was complete and favors repaid.

Grinning wide, Azwold dove right in, and a progress bar appeared, creeping more slowly than any bar before it. “C’mon Vic,” said Azwold. “Let’s build my sweet, sweet, beautiful baby first!”

“Affirmative.”

A message pinged on Azwold’s tablet:

“I know I said I wouldn’t, but I turned the [Eld Molar] into jewelry after defeating that wild dino on the island. It’s part of Vish’s collar now. Hope you don’t mind if we hang onto it a while? Also, what about those extenders, huh? BTW, did the bees find you? The Queen paid us a visit. Me and Medett had to do a little bug magic. Come see us down in the canyon soon! -B & M”

“I am reminded of a story called ‘The Shattering of the Charm,’” said Belvan. “Wherein we learn how a goddess morphed into a pantheon.”

“Didn’t we just live that?” said DarkNeon. She summoned Yolo the Luminous Llama. “I’m gonna go find Medett and Berem. They’ll be eager to help put the rest of Telemoon down.”

“I hypothesize that with the Mentalist Troika’s incapacitation, there will be widespread disillusionment and confusion among my former guild mates. There may be opportunities to undo indoctrination. We must discuss either disbanding Telemoon or recruiting those we can.”

“Maybe a takeover and restructuring?” said Azwold.

“Let’s find the stragglers first?” said Relja.

“I’m on it!” said DarkNeon, “HiYa! Go Yolo.”

“Perhaps my story can wait for another time?” said Belvan.

Azwold and Vick5 got to work on reconstructing the Gremlin, discussing how to handle Telemoon’s remnants.

Relja stared off into space, thinking. Then she engaged Belvan, studying her cloudy, floating tablet. Browsing his menu options, she chose one:

“I am reminded of a story concerning the mysterious races collectively known as Animun,” said Belvan. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Oh,” said Relja. “Yes please.” And she sat down in the grass to listen.