At the insistence of Dave, the stand-in-System, all the various sub-systems, and even the sub-sub-systems, had gathered together in the little-used conference room. Potted plants lent the room a more homely air, but the mood was decidedly more sombre. They milled around with the looks of those who were glad it wasn’t them who were in charge when things were going wrong. And they were. Very much so.
“We have a problem,” Dave told them after managing to bring some order to the chaos. They noticed the ‘we’, but were of the opinion that it was ‘you’, ie Dave, who had the problem. Still, one of them answered.
“In what manner?” he asked. The Rajah of Reptiles, the Doyen of Dragons, better known as Bruce, had a smug look on his face, which annoyed Dave to no end. He had a lot more seniority than Dave, and really it should have been him in charge, taking over when the Boss went away, yet somehow he had avoided the whole debacle being dumped on his lap, and so it fell to Dave lowly Dave, to inherit the whole mess and try and clean it up.
“There is a person out there who has hit level 46.”
“Noting unusual about that,” Bruce responded. “Why, there are thousands that high and they are no cause for concern.”
“He has hit that after just twenty-one hours.”
Bruce’s smug look faded slightly. “A speed runner?”
“No. He has done so without even leaving the starting area,” Dave announced, in the manner of a card player laying down a winning hand.
“Wait, what?” Even Bruce looked concerned now, and there was a murmur from the others. “How?”
“If I could direct your attention to the continent of Southcleave, please?”
Most there had never before looked at it, or at least not recently, and some had never even heard of the place, so much a backwater it had become. Eventually, all were able to tune into the place, with a little aid, to see the burning, smoking ruins of the continent. There was a giant crater in a single, central location, and radiating out from it were flows of magma that crept to the sea. Forests burned and the Blood Citadel of the Leech Queen had been reduced to ash.
“How did he do that?”
“I believe that he used [Troll Quake!],” Dave replied.
There was a flurry of activity as manuals were consulted. Proto-Trolls were held in such little regard that no more than a handful there had even heard of the ability before. Bruce had, though.
“There is no way that can be true. It is a terrible ability with no real use.”
“Well, he has found a way,” Dave pointed out. “May I now draw your attention to the character sheet of one Max Masters, Race: Proto-Troll, Class: Brewer, Background: Sailor.”
They all took a look. Then they took a second look. The numbers were rising even as they looked.
Brawn
20+31177
Endurance
20+31177
Tenacity
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
20+5195
Agility
19+5195
Nimbleness
19+5195
Intellect
21+5195
Reasoning
21+5195
Grace
16+5195
Appearance
16+5195
Prowess
16+5195
Health (Brawn + Endurance)
40+62354
Mana (Intellect + Reasoning)
42+10390
Stamina (Endurance + Tenacity)
40+36372
Drunkenness (2 x Endurance)
59761/40+62354
A hubbub of voice broke out all at once, asking questions.
“How is that possible?”
“Can stats even go that high?”
“How did he do that?”
“Surely there is an error.”
“I think,” Dave said, “That we are going to need to call in the Boss.”
“You are the boss,” Bruce pointed out.
“The real Boss, I mean,” Dave said. “I’m just the stand-in,”
“Ah, well, about that,” Bruce started to say, looking slightly squeamish and guilty, “The thing is, well, you are the real boss now. The previous one, well, he retired.”
“Retired? How can he retire?”
“Happens all the time,” Bruce told the perplexed Dave. “You see, he wasn’t the first either. He was actually Bob, from Accounting. When the Boss before that, Fred, the Pharaoh of Fish, decided to chuck it in, it was felt best to find someone who was unaware of the situation. That led to Bob, and when was done with the whole thing, he found you, lurking around unaware of what was happening.” Bruce looked only slightly apologetic. “No one sticks around long. You see, the whole place is held together by spit and wire nowadays. No one has done any proper documentation in an age, and new ideas are cobbled together with no concern about what has gone on before. No one really wants to be the one who is left holding the ball when the whole thing folds up like the house of cards that it is. Sorry.”
Dave gave Bruce a long look. “Maybe you should take over then. You seem to know a lot more about what is happening, and has happened, than I do.”
“No, no. I’m very happy with dragons, thank you very much. Oh, and that thing with the pigeon, by the way; not cool at all.”
“Consider it fair play for what you have dumped on me. We need to figure out just how he is doing this so that we can stop it. Look, he is moving so fast that I can’t even track him anymore. So, everyone, find me some answers. Now.”
They burrowed into their manuals, every one of them, the various sub-systems and sub-sub-systems, trying to figure out just what had gone wrong, while Dave paced backwards and forwards, keeping an eye on the progress of Max, or at least the blur he left when he moved, and as the numbers spiralled ever higher.
“Ah.” It was Bruce, naturally, who spoke first, looking up from the manuals. “Oh dear.”
“What is it?” Dave asked him, his pacing stopping.
“Well, it seems there might have been a slight oversight when the [Brewer] class was designed. Look, the Boss at that time, Frank, or the Margrave of Marsupials, liked to party. A lot. And, well, the whole idea was conceived and implemented during a particularly merry party. Missed one simple interaction with one obscure trait in the process. It happens a lot. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for anyone to notice it. It’s probably a good thing that we didn’t follow through with the other idea at that party, to turn the fishing skill into the fisherman class as well.”
“How do we stop him then?”
“I don’t think we can any more,” Bruce replied. “I think that this calls for the big guns.”
“Drop a meteor on him?” one sub-sub-system, who Dave thought was called Alice, suggested.
“Have you seen his health level?” Bruce asked. “He’d barely notice it, even if it took out half the planet in the process. No, I am referring to the Devisor.”
“I don’t care how divisive he is, as long as he can fix the problem,” Dave stated.
“No, I meant the one who devised the whole System. He went off a long ago, before your time. I might be able to get in touch with him. But he is not going to be happy. Not happy at all.”
And he wasn’t.