11: GOLDEN CHILD
//
9:50 A.M. // 10 - 16 - 2023 // Swamper Dungeon
Starring Reyenal Ato
Featuring Nolan Faust
//
This was disgusting.
The whole swamp dungeon was up in flames as I panted for breath, so many arrows pelted into each tree turning them into torches that would cause national forest protection services to flinch, and splattered everywhere was the gross swamper mud-like blood. Even though I was inside a dungeon the sun felt too real, so annoyingly hot, and the mud splattered all over the back of my neck served as some sort of pig sunscreen, drying and hardening and cracking, and then moistening all over again as more layers splattered on.
Lowering my bow, I scanned the surroundings now cleared of the tortoise-sloth monsters, each a couple arrows sprouting from their forehead and on fire. They had taken forever to kill.
I ran off in a different direction towards the sound of fighting.
It was definitely hot in my clothes. Out of the random corners of the swamp dungeon, crawling past the bodies of their brethren, more monsters were approaching.
Just how many were there? And how do I find the ‘lost gem’?!
The mud-polluted water sloshed as I ran away from the hoard of swampers. Turning back for a second, I recited the motion of shooting an arrow. Raise bow, pull back, thumb against cheekbone, elbow high, and an arrow manifested into thin air. I let it fly, and another, and then another in quick succession, and they each found their mark on one of the monster’s muck-covered shells along with shards of Icicle, landing with such force that it cracked, and I could hear the noise even from a distance away.
—KRRRK
The HP bar appeared over its head, a line of untouched green covered with the blue-white of the shield over it. At least one of the arrows was definitely a critical hit, three arrows couldn’t do that much.
[ ‘SWAMPER’ || HP - 2172 (101.3%) [ 2144 (+3188) (248.7%) / 2144] ]
I hated those stupid shields! If I had hit the damn face all three times it would have been dead!
Adrenaline pumped me as the unfazed hoard mockingly crawled closer, and I shot another arrow into it, but before I could watch its health fall, I myself fell backwards in an attempt at a roll upon hearing a groaning gurgle beside me. Mud splashed all over me as I recovered and blinded me.
The sound of another swamper to my right crawling, slowly, but very menacingly at me sending chills up my back. I swiped my face twice to sweep the mud off of me to no avail. It was much much too close for comfort, but just three steps back later and from a bit behind me a large thunderous noise and a flurry of mud spraying everywhere, of a body slamming into wood, and quickly glancing back I heard the sound of my partner splashing into the muddy water with a loud oomph.
Finally I managed to get the mud out of my face and threw my hair back.
My partner was completely covered in the swamper mud and probably just broke the explosive shell and gasped for breath as he violently lifted his head from the muddy water.
[ ‘PARTNER’ || HP - 1004 (13.3%) [ 5307 (70.2%) / 7560 ] MANA [ 0 / 0 ] ]
“Idiot! Go for the head!” I yelled, doubting he could hear me with the water in his ears.
Not waiting for an answer, I furiously turned to the swamper coming closer to him and primed another shot.
Those things were heavy hitters, fat tanks, and explosive turtles.
—PPSSHHT
This time it hit one of the monster’s small protruding face completely unprotected by the shell, and then like a match had been struck over oil the swamper lit into flames with a horrible groaning howl.
Paragon Talent
S // Reyenal gains access to an arsenal of 2 spirit weapons, changing them as she wills. She has a main and off-hand weapon that is always active. The off-hand only grants its affinity to the main weapon.
Flambé
Reyenal equips a bow. Her affinity changes to Fire which occasionally causes her next attack to burn, dealing damage.
ARROW BASE DAMAGE:
400
BURN DAMAGE:
10% of target’s current health
The swamper let out a low and gurgly roar of pain as its HP bar appeared, and with the fire’s affinity damage the arrow tore through its health quickly.
[ ‘SWAMPER’ || HP - 778 (38.9%) [ 1222 (+5000) (311.1%) / 2000 ] ]
My 2nd shot landed on its shell and was tanked by the shield, as did my third and fourth.
[ ‘SWAMPER’ || HP - 1567 (78.4%) [ 1222 (+3433) (232.8%) / 2000 ] ]
A final Icicle shard pelted the monster, and then it froze completely in place.
Paragon Talent
S // Reyenal gains access to an arsenal of 2 spirit weapons, changing them as she wills. She has a main and off-hand weapon that is always active. The off-hand only grants its affinity to the main weapon.
Icicle
Reyenal equips a kama. Her affinity changes to Ice which causes every attack to spawn an additional missile, striking the target for a portion of the damage dealt shortly after appearing. Her attacks Frosts the target. All instances of damage increase the amount of stacks. At 4 stacks, the target is shortly frozen and takes true damage.
KAMA BASE DAMAGE:
500
ICE MISSILE DAMAGE:
20%
FROST DAMAGE:
5% of target’s maximum health
FROZEN DURATION:
1.5 seconds
A second later and another shot to the face set it ablaze, and then the ice shattered sealing additional damage to its unshielded health.
[ ‘SWAMPER’ || HP - 712 (35.6%) [ 510 (+3433) (197.2%) / 2000 ] ]
They were everywhere, and even if they were too slow to miss with Reyenal’s talent and Memory their heads were just so tiny!
“Yo, go find the objective,” my partner groaned, having finally gotten up. He went about the same motions to wipe off the mud. “I’ll follow you and cover your back.”
Shooting more arrows, I was completely frustrated at him, my fingers now blistering. “The hell, bro? I don’t know what you’re on right now,” I yelled, and then a swamper exploded into mud and smithereens, “you go find it and I’ll cover for you! You’re ******* melee and they explode, what don’t you understand?!”
Hardly noticeable beneath his mud-covered skin, I could see the redness of his handsome face and the anger in his posture.
Past my raw words, he knew exactly what I meant, and his fists tightened around his spiked knuckles. A large swamper was coming his way.
I smirked. “Prove me wrong.”
I didn’t even know his name and yet I knew him inside and out. He was nothing short of the overly handsome and overly muscular big boss, the variety that could be found in any high school fighter read, the top of the food chain. But here, he was not at the top.
I was better. He was weaker.
And I regretted choosing him as my partner.
The violent and tangible air about him tensed, and then in one sudden moment he was in the air flying at the tortoise.
Two Timer
Cost: 0
Cooldown: 25 seconds
A+ // Nolan leaps at a target and empowers his next two attacks to deal bonus missing health damage in a small area around the target. The first attack will stun the target and shred their resistances.
MISSING HEALTH DAMAGE:
100 + (0 - 250)% based on target’s missing health
AREA SIZE:
3 feet
STUN:
2 seconds
RESISTANCE SHRED:
20%
Like an ugly child receiving a gift the sloth under the shell raised its arms into the air to catch him, but then was slammed straight into the water with a huge splash.
[ ‘SWAMPER’ || HP - 619 (25.5%) [ 1811 (+8505) (424.5%) / 2430 ] ]
I couldn’t see the rest of the fight as I wiped off more mud from my face, a recurring theme, but swiftly the tortoise sloth monster was taken care of, a primal yelling and groaning from a student and a monster. My partner hadn’t taken any damage in the excursion. I was slightly surprised at how much he could do with punches alone as well as the accuracy to land them all on the face, but I didn’t let myself show any praise.
“Wow,” I said dryly, and the bow disappeared from my hands. I clapped slowly. “Great job, buddy. You proved me wrong. You killed one swamper.”
He glared at me, panting for breath. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he hated me. Even an idiot like him could catch the sarcasm that oozed from my voice.
He opened his mouth and bared his teeth. “F*** you. You can barely even kill one,” he spit, and then turned away towards another group of swampers.
I huffed with amusement and only smiled, not wanting to say anything. Maybe he didn’t see the hoard of swampers earlier, each shot to death via arrows and fire and ice. One way or another, he definitely caught my smile, seeing how the veins crawled up his mud dried neck and triceps and his breathing intensified.
Well, that’s all I would prod him. People like him would always repay their grudge sooner or later, so I didn’t have to worry about his usefulness anymore. Not like I worried in the first place.
//
10:23 A.M. // 10 - 16 - 2023 // Arc - Practical Testing Block, Site B
Starring Zendolyn Ato
//
Opening the door to the stage made my stomach grip a little tighter, and the crossbow clacked at my side as I firmed my hold on it. It was quite dark where I stood, but I could see a little bit of a staircase a few feet ahead of me up to the backstage from the light pouring out of a door nearby it. To my surprise, a few bots dressed in waiter attires marched past me and out through the doors. I unfroze and sighed in relief. That meant that past the door they went through was the main scene of the map.
Stolen novel; please report.
I definitely had a lot to think about, as there weren’t at all many recordings to guide me through this.
The door over there was probably where my target was, as that was where the most bots were. I was a little curious about the staircase as where it led was blocked off by a wall, but I assumed it was to the backstage. So then, my destination was probably in front of me… but this Arc uniform just wasn’t going to cut it.
I had chosen the Auditorium. The theme was a masquerade with entertainment from food and drink to live music and a rotating performer onstage, the showpiece of the map.
The problem was that the target was completely random, and the only thing that set it apart was a white top hat. Once it was killed, no bot could know it was dead until the timer ran out. There were lots of dark crevices on this map, perfect for hiding a body and which the bots never checked, like beneath the cloth over the tables, in a restroom stall, or even pushed over the edge on the balcony.
From the very few past recordings I had studied, the suits and masks that the bots wore served as disguises. One recording, the first one ever, showed that if I didn’t take the uniform then the bots would immediately get suspicious of me, and the points would come crashing down on my head.
So, I first needed a disguise to get out of the backstage…
Without killing any bots.
I looked to my left, and then down. An open box next to the flowerpot, with a waiter uniform, just waiting to be worn. A white mask laid on the top.
How… very convenient. That first guy was definitely an idiot.
Now the only problem was that I needed to change… on camera…
Pulling off the outer layer of the uniform, I stuffed it into the box along with the pants and the quiver of arrows. Thank God Zen had thin thermal clothing in his closet, no matter how uncomfortably hot they were to wear.
A quick changing session along with a short psychup later, I kneeled down and grabbed two arrows from the quiver. Placing one on the ground, I held the other like a dagger and positioned it just at the tip of the other arrow, and with one quick and precise motion I stabbed down. The arrowhead cleanly broke off and I looked back up, half expecting someone to come check on the noise.
Ah. I had forgotten I was still in the safe zone.
Grabbing the sharp arrowhead, I stuffed it in one of the pockets on the waiter outfit, and then I put everything else I didn’t need into the box. That included the crossbow.
I flinched again as a second round of waiter bots marched past me each holding a platter filled with elegant refreshments and bits of food in ornate little shot glasses, and with quick thoughts flying through my head I realized what I had to do. I tensed myself. It didn’t really matter to me if I had a server’s platter or not. The last one passed by, and one quick glance around confirmed no bot was looking.
1, 2, 3, 4, 2, 2, 3, 4, go, now, don’t, stop, just, go, 3, 4! The front bot marched straight out, the next and the next after following his lead until I finally took the last steps through the door. The light blinded me momentarily. I regained my bearings and immediately pushed myself off to the left as the waiters kept walking forward, and inserted myself behind a tall potted plant beside the stage, the huge curtains beside me taking up most of the room. They were probably large enough for me to fit in any orientation.
I didn’t have too much time before the next round of waiters came in, so I peeked around the edge of the pot.
There were so, so many bots in suits and dresses, each donned with a mask. On stage the band playing smooth jazz soothed my bones, and the hollow sound of heels and dress shoes tapping against the hard marble, glasses of champagne clinking together, and the creepiness of the creaking dance of the robots. So far, I couldn’t see my target.
I was mildly delighted when a voice began singing from the stage, presumably one of the performer bots, to accentuate the jazzy tune. Its voice was that of a woman, a tremolo and rich deep song from the heart and chest, the words crisp and clear as the chandelier that hung above and reflected all of the beautiful lights around in mesmerizing glitter.
Ducking under the curtains, I raised myself high enough to see onto the stage, and at the front and center was a bot with a huge dress full of purple ruffles and shiny jewels embedded into the frills, but even with such a pretty dress it was still just a bot wearing a dress. A name tag was attached to the right side of its chest, but I couldn’t really make it out as it wasn’t facing me.
“And I… want to fly… with you by my side, oh darling—how sweet, and honey… dew… that comes from the flowers, as lovely as you, and the sky…”
A slow, steady song, accompanied by a little follow-up tune from the piano. A piece of heaven straight out of the classics, and yet something I had never heard before. It was absolutely wonderful. It reminded me of my dad.
But even a music geek knew when to put their head on right.
Scanning over all of the bots that I could see, none of them wearing a white hat… I made a little note that I could, in fact, see through the huge glass wall that separated me and the student audience.
And then I saw the size of the audience.
My heart pounded.
Behind the glass, there were no more seats left in the enormous space of the wing, people were sharing seats, I had never been watched by so many people before. And I could tell that all of them were watching my screen.
Stop pointing at me like an animal.
My heart was drumming, loud and terrible. Pressure crowded all around me, squeezed so tight. It was overwhelming, bullets of sweat traced down my neck and my head clouded in a debilitating fear and panic.
I leaned onto the stage wall for balance, so so dizzy.
“Oh love… dear darling, my love—so come on! And come here… here… give me your love, and your all,—I want it alllll!!” The singer reached the climax of her voice, a brilliant note, and she held it for a moment.
They’re watching me, all of them, all of their eyes—if I mess up, they’ll see, they’ll all see, and then I’ll be good as gone. I’ll be destroyed, dead to my world—
Breath…
…
I took a deep and shuddering breath in.
Calm down. You’re on stage now.
I was… on stage now. I… needed to be calm. I had rehearsed this so many times.
And yet, I had never rehearsed it once at the same time.
I stared up at the beautiful ceiling. It smelled like warm frothing butter and bread. The air tasted like sour grapes.
“I’ll give you my all…”
“You’re prepared,” I whispered, unable to hear myself over the drums of anxiety in my head. “You’re ready.”
“And we’ll show them all…”
I pushed myself off of the wall as the bots began to clap. The clank, clank, clank of robotic hands hitting each other couldn’t bother me more than the lyrics.
I needed to get backstage. There was no one here with a white top hat. That could only mean that the bot was either in the kitchen, a server, or worst case scenario, a performer onstage.
Breath.
The door beside me opened again, and as soon as the last bot walked by I slipped past it backstage, somehow going unnoticed.
I was definitely on a timer before the next round came again. I glanced to the right at the staircase, and hastily ascended its six steps to see before me a huge assortment of props and boxes on a raised platform with wheels and a handle like a cart, like they were preparing for a musical or a play. It was probably more so there for a cluttered realism effect rather than real use. Just a few steps to the right from the top of the staircase was a little chair, on it a clipboard. This was risky, but I needed information. The proctors wouldn’t leave me to fail like this.
Breath.
I made a stealthy dash for the clipboard, my shoes thankfully quiet against the polished floor. Grabbing it, I slid the clipboard off the edge and spun my head all around. The far stage entrance had a whole group of musicians fiddling silently with their instruments, a few bots tottered around aimlessly, more clipboards. Surroundings noted. No one spotted me. Retreating back to the cover of the stairs, I looked at the paper and smiled. Info.
Taking a long look of the listed names of the upcoming performers and their songs, the most recent ones crossed out. But with a peek backstage again and making a quick surveillance around the room, I couldn’t see the—
Never mind, I saw it.
Not too far from me was the hat sat atop the head of a bot, which wore an elegant suit with tapering collars and simple but fancy black pants. Beside it was the back of the dress from the performer bot I had seen earlier. My target slightly turned my way and I hid, but I had already read the nametag.
Arnold.
My target was named Arnold.
I looked back at the clipboard to check again, and caught my breath.
B-breath.
It shouldn’t have been surprising, I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. But I still felt my heart drop down to the floor.
Arnold was the next performer.
This was rigged.
…
I squeezed my jaw. Why…?
…
No, I couldn’t give up. I still had a chance. The atmosphere felt oily.
Confirming it with the paper, I delved deep into the pits of my brain.
I glanced around the corner again, and quickly found myself panicking again. The performer in the dress was all alone now.
Where did the top hat go? I had a realization.
Was Arnold already on standby to enter the stage?
My eyes widened, I needed a distraction, and quick.
Uhh, uhhhhh—oh! Wheels, b-boxes, uhh, clichés!
I-I can do this!
Swiftly eyeing the boxes in front of me and imagining the possible scenario outcomes in real time, I moved behind the handle undetected, and with all my strength I pushed as hard as I could on the not-cart aimed to make it turn left into the wall. Then I made a mad but silent dash to the close stage entrance.
With a horribly loud squeaking and skidding noise against the wall, the cart came to a steady stop. By then, I had already made it into the entrance, standing right behind my target. The curtain was completely drawn closed, and looking around my target’s shoulders I didn’t see any bots from the far entrance.
Breath.
This was my one and only chance.
I tapped Arnold’s shoulder twice, and it turned around to face me.
But it couldn’t.
Because it didn’t have a face.
Because I stabbed it in the face.
In one quick moment with all the speed I could muster I dragged its inanimate frame onto the stage.
My hiding spot earlier was quite a good place to hide a body.
I dragged it to the edge and then got down as quietly as I could. Arnold at the edge now was much easier to silently place down now as I stood on the lower level.
My watch buzzed.
[Target neutralized successfully.
Task: Do not allow any bots to notice that the target is missing
Time remaining: 6 minutes]
…
It took a moment before I realized what had just happened.
The distraction worked.
The target was neutralized.
I had just completed an exam that almost guaranteed my failure.
…
Holy moly.
I sat down hard, and then the sound of the curtains opening filled the entire auditorium. No celebrating. I was still on camera.
Now, all I had to do was celebrate in my head and play the waiting game.
This was one hell of a stupid requirement.
…
Oh, no.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.
Shoot!
My eyes were bulging out of their sockets, and my breathing was ragged again.
They would 100% notice if a performer disappeared. In a white top hat.
I was panicking my mind out. The difference from earlier?
My blood pressure was spiking.
I dizzily held my hand against my chest. Yep, that’s a really, really, really fast beat you’re playing, Mr. Drummer.
Hyperventilating? Check.
Spinning world? Please stay still.
I tried to calm myself down, but it wasn’t working.
I clenched my teeth together, oh the world was moving so fast.
Was calming down even the issue? And even so, there was this undeniable feeling inside me…
No way…
I shakily touched my face, and all of my brain’s last vestiges of reasoning screamed in horror as the rest of my body shivered in pleasure. Was I just scared?
So why was my face so hot?
I touched my ears instinctively and held back noises in my throat.
Was I blushing?
I hoped the audience couldn’t see through the plastic mask on my face.
This was definitely a dopamine overload.
But—why?
My body quivered in feelings I couldn’t describe, I was out of breath and my sweat glands were flooding, and just when I was about to burst, the final remaining and sane part of my mind busted into the control room and grabbed the handles.
The emotions raged as I pulled off my waiter outfit uncomfortably in the tight space, and then undressed the dead bot beside me. Putting on his clothes, switching the mask as fast as I could to prevent anyone from seeing my flushed face, and donning his hat, I peeked beneath the curtains.
A set of marching feet in perfect unison passed. 1, 2, 3, 4.
Go, now!
I slipped out from under the curtains and zoomed back through the door.
Hurry!
I leaped up the staircase in two steps. My watch buzzed. Five more minutes.
Faster!
The crew paid me no mind as they struggled with the boxes and props. They probably had no clue I was a human. The mask helped.
As soon as I stepped into the narrow entrance hallway, I could see the whole group of musicians out there, waiting for me to enter. The conductor at the front beckoned me to take my place in the center.
My heart pounded in my chest. So loud.
A microphone waited for me.
Calm. Breath slower.
I paused for a moment.
Then took a methodical step forward. The next, and the next came easier. I counted my strides across the stage.
Everything around had quieted down when I made my appearance. The gorgeous chandelier above radiantly sparkled. Nobody could see my face, still on fire. There was a faint smell of love. The air tasted like luxury. Six steps, total.
I breathed again, and then grabbed the microphone stand. Like magic, a quiet keyboard’s steady rhythm to a slow beat and a faint string plucking to carry the tune, the song began. I knew this song so well.
My cue.
The world held its breath, waiting for me as I held my own.
And I sang.
“And, now,” I started solemnly, “the end is near…”
Zen’s voice, a light and luscious chocolate ganache, now was more of a rich and warm fudge.
“And so I face… the final, curtains…” It was refined, strong, and yet soulful and thoughtful.
My eyes closed and my heart was in sync with every beat. I felt it reverberate in me. The lyrics, too, came naturally.
“My friend… I’ll say it clear. I’ll state my case… of which, I’m certain.”
No, I could not replicate a legend’s soul and deep voice, but singing without my own soul was not an option. The audience, of bots and of humans, I could not focus on as certainly as I knew they were focused on me, as my voice and the music was all I could hear, see, taste, smell, feel. It was all of me.
“I planned, each charted course! Each careful step… along the byway…” I breathed in as the violin played its prelude to the start of the end. I wasn’t thinking anymore, I was simply feeling.
“But more… much more than this, I did it, my… way…!” The drum started louder and in dramatic crescendo and fortissimo the horns and winds began playing along with them. The chorus of music filled the Auditorium.
“Yes there were times, I’m sure you knew… when I bit off, more than I could chew.” The music progressed louder in fanfare and enthusiasm, an accompaniment to the melody that was entering the strongest of my vocal range. “But through it all, when there was doubt… I ate it up, and spit it out!”
The song slowed back down to its thoughtful verses, a melody which I swayed to as my feet were firmly planted on the floor.
What a wonderful world I lived in.
“For what is a man?” The trumpets blared, “What has he got? If not himself… then he has naught! To say the things… he truly feels. And not the words… of one who kneels!”
I gasped for breath. “The record shows, I took the blow,” my voice was power, “and did it, my… way!” My hand unclenched from the microphone, and I relaxed myself as the music made its final stand, horn and trumpet, violin and drums.
My watch buzzed, and all of the bots slackened around me.
[Your exam is complete and is being evaluated. Please stand by.]
One more line.
“Yes, it was… my… way…”