World Gate: Hysterium - Town of L’Minos

Rowan sat on the bench outside the local tavern admiring the single white moon in the dark sky. He could hear Osiris inside strumming away at his lute, singing loudly—drunkenly—about Garo’tan Bloodfist’s mother.

Thank the Creator I wasn’t able to convince Garo to join us here…

At least here the insults would never make their way back to the brutish orc. The only people Rowan currently noticed in the entire town were a pair of Heroes, now seated at the bar, and the resident byzen Humanoids.

Three of the minotaur-like creatures—No, not creatures. Why is it so hard to stop thinking of them that way?

Three of the minotaur-like Humanoids exited the tavern, giggling.

Rowan had no doubt these were the female byzen who consistently found their way to Osiris’ lap. One gave him a shy wave, her eyes twinkling and cheeks blushing. She wore her hair in a braided rainbow that made her look more half unicorn than bison. He’d noticed over his three trips here that byzen were shockingly enthusiastic about hair styling and dying, but this was an extreme.

Hopefully, this’ll be the last time I ever have to look at them again. He had nothing against the byzen, but they were a raucous crew, fond of their dancing, ales, and their axes—which they frequently used in conjunction for drinking games.

And he was eager to be done with Hysterium.

L’Rok-tal followed the girls out. Noticing Rowan, the old byzen sat down on the bench and stretched an ale-wielding arm around his shoulders. Some of the golden liquid sloshed over the edge and onto Rowan’s armor.

He was used to the behavior by now, and he did like the old bison-head. But there was so little professionalism and decorum here. It was somehow both refreshing and disconcerting at the same time.

"Prince Rowan," L’Rok-tal slurred, a dribble of ale wetting his scraggly beard. "How many you get today, eh?"

Rowan kicked the full sack at his feet. Pink sticky liquid soaked through the bottom and stained the ground beneath. "Eighteen."

"Not bad, eh. At this rate, when the zentaurus tree selects the next byzen to traverse the canyon there’ll be nothing left for them to harvest."

"Well, don’t worry. I won’t be here much longer."

A few Heroes had trickled through daily—none quite so obnoxious as DeezBallz69, who had never actually returned to cash in the Quest. Most took on his quest for the endymion flowers, since there was little else for them to do here.

He’d now collected over three-quarters of what Ravine wanted, and that took him three full days of sitting around in this wasteland.

With any luck, this would be his last trip to Hysterium.

L’Rok-tal picked a stray byzen hair off Rowan’s head and let it fall to the ground.

As if by some cruel joke, the System had started spawning him right under the odd dead tree that the byzen flung their hair into.

No matter how many I take off there always seem to be more. How is there so much hair everywhere in this place?

"Almost done your Quest, eh?" L’Rok-tal asked as he pulled out his pipe and lit it.

Rowan nodded. He’d explained it all to L’Rok-tal. How the zombie Monsters contracted some sleeping illness and needed the endymion flower to concoct a cure. He left out the part about his involvement in causing that illness…

"You’re doing a good thing," the old byzen said, tendrils of pink smoke leaving his nose.

Rowan closed his eyes and shrugged.

"I mean it. Most Quests are designed to take resources back to your World, but usually they are more self-serving. Exploitive even. This is a good cause, eh. Wholesome even. Poor little helpless zombies."

Monsters are far from helpless. They didn’t seem helpless as they were hiding in the woods by Serepto Field before the professor stopped them. They didn’t seem helpless as they tormented him in the Sarc—of course, that had been a simulation, but the sentiment remained.

Yet despite all that, he couldn’t deny the feelings inside every time a Hero delivered more of the endymion flowers to him. He didn’t regret what they’d done—the Monster needed to know their place—only that it went so far. It felt like some sort of karmic fulfillment to be correcting that mistake. Almost as if it were the Creator’s will.

Or Shaman Ravine’s will at the very least.

And that Creator-forsaken slime. Rowan wasn’t done with him. The stupid green blob had obviously told the troll healer about his involvement.

That was the only reason he was forced to sit around this backwater World.

"You’re quite the contemplative one, eh," L’Rok-tal noted, a touch of sympathy in his tone for whatever reason.

Rowan had no idea how long he’d just been sitting there in silence, stewing. "I have a lot on my mind."

"I know nothing of the hierarchy in Pentory. But, for what it’s worth, it seems to me you’ll make a great king, eh."

Rowan couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh that escaped his throat.

I’d be a weak king. No spine, no power, one friend. Thank the Creator that’s Uthen’s responsibility.

"I’ve seen you fight, eh. Ran straight into danger when you heard a Hero in trouble. Here, trying to provide a cure for others. We’ve only met recently, but we’ve spoken hours during your time here. I feel I know you, Rowan Regicast." The byzen poked his chest. "The real you."

"No one knows the real me."

L’Rok-tal stood up and took a final puff on his pipe before dumping the pink ashes and stomping them out. "You’re a good person. You just need to stop denying it."

He disappeared back into the tavern.

Rowan took a deep breath, the residual scent of the scorpion poison lingered in the air like rotting apples.

That ale really must be strong.

L’Rok-tal was clearly drunk and delusional.

A short time later, Osiris plopped down on the bench beside Rowan and threw an arm around his shoulders. He hadn’t even noticed the music stop—actually, it hadn’t stopped. It sounded like half the tavern had taken up the tune, and were now belting off-key about Thrasilia Bloodfist’s extravagant bosom.

Nice, Osiris… Way to keep a low profile.

"Row…" his friend gasped, out of breath. "These people may be crazy, but they make incredible ale."

"You really got them all to keep singing without you there?"

"What? No. Illusion." He strummed his lute once and a few blue and pink sparks danced across the strings, then disappeared.

Rowan had forgotten about that skill. He hadn’t truly been listening when Osiris explained all his skills, but now he recalled this one. The bard could create an illusionary copy of himself for a short time. It could make sound, but had no physical form and looked like a blue translucent outline of a being.

It was interesting, and a decent brief distraction tactic in a battle, but nothing more at the moment. Once Osiris Leveled up, though, Rowan wouldn’t be shocked if it gained some added abilities and became more realistic. That would end up being incredibly useful.

He’d had some time to evaluate his own skills before venturing across the World Gate. They were mostly focused on healing, buffs, and debuffs. He had enough Defense that he could make a decent tank someday with his combination of skills, especially if he had Party members like Osiris who could buff him further.

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He’d never be an offensive force, though.

"Why don’t you come in and get a drink? You’ve been pouting out here for hours." Osiris held his mug of ale under Rowan’s nose.

A bit of the liquid sloshed onto his thigh and dripped down the gold armor for the second time that evening. He wiped it off with a sleeve. "I need to be ready in case that Hero returns to complete the quest."

"Ah yes. Always doing your duty, Prince of Flowers."

"You know I hate when you call me that."

"Exactly."

"You’re an ass."

"They’re gonna be talking about this for ages." Osiris pretended to sound like an old woman. ‘The youngest Quest giver ever, you say?’ Then a man. "‘Yes, the great Prince Rowan Regicast!’ ‘What was his quest?’ ‘Picking daisies.’"

"Why do I hang out with you?"

"I think it’s because you have no other friends and your brother doesn’t have the time of day for you."

Too on point, Osiris… Geesh.

He instinctively glanced around for Auren and Killian, so used to their presence lately, but they weren’t obligated to go on assignments with him. And they’d chosen to stay behind.

Are they even my friends? Could you call someone a friend if they were ordered to serve you?

Osiris got up to return inside, but left his mug on the bench. "In case you change your mind."

Rowan nodded and stared out through the cluster of dead trees around the road down to the Canyon of Despair.

Please let that Hero be back soon. I just want this Quest to be over, so we can get the heck out of here.

In the distance, the yellow shimmering boundary of Rowan’s waypoint area flickered.

Then it vanished.

"Osiris… did you see—"

"Yeah. Mine too."

He tried to pull up his larger map to see if the waypoint still showed up there, but the map wouldn’t open.

"Is your map working?" he asked Osiris.

"Nope. Nothing’s working." He grabbed the ale from the bench and downed it.

Rowan focused on his inventory, but nothing happened. Same thing with his Leveling Scroll and Party Management.

He pulled a Lesser Healing Potion from his belt. The red solution sloshed around inside. At least the items in the Rapid Use Slots still seem to be working.

As Professor Xavus had told them to do, they both had a Transportation Stone to the Respawn Hub queued in a slot for quick escape in emergencies. He rested a hand on the pouch holding the stone.

Hopefully, it won’t come to that.

Someone down the path screamed. A part horse-like neigh, part moan, part screech.

Rowan drew his sword and sprinted toward the sound.

Osiris followed behind, muttering to himself. "Shit shit shit shit shit."

He didn’t have to travel far. His feet skidded to a halt, kicking up dust.

A male byzen knelt in the road, his hands together. His words were barely audible through the trembling tears. "Please, Creator. Spare me."

A few feet further down the path a female lay, the dirt around her smeared in blood.

Before the kneeling byzen stood a being. It looked like an orc, but… changed.

It was all black. A red aura hummed around its vacant silhouette.

Even its armor and weapons had turned.

"Corruption," Osiris whispered.

The Corrupt orc sliced a shadowy axe through the byzen’s neck. Then it stalked toward them.

A second one followed the first, driving a spear into the fallen minotaur creature. It carried an obsidian orb that crackled with red lightning.

Osiris already had the Transportation Stone in his hand.

Rowan drew his shield from the strap on his back.

"What are you doing?" Osiris hissed.

"Don’t you remember what Xavus said? If the residents die, they die. We need to help them."

"You’re kidding, right? Remember what else he said? The Corrupt can’t be killed."

"Go warn the town, Osiris. I’ll hold them off."

"Not a chance. Be smart for once, Row."

There was a whoosh and Osiris disappeared into a shower of teal particles.

Fuck, Osiris.

So I’m on my own then.

He threw his sword at the axe-wielding orc. His Hammer of Justice skill. The sword connected. It did no damage, but an icon appeared next to the being’s illegible name. Its movement slowed slightly.

The bar of Heroic Energy under Rowan’s stamina should have lowered a few points, but it didn’t move. It was frozen, just like the rest of the interface.

What does that mean?

He’d already used a bunch fighting snakes and scorpions for fun. That didn’t seem like such a wise use of the magic now. He’d have to keep mental track of how much Heroic Energy he should have left if the interface wasn’t updating.

His sword re-materialized in his hand and he ran back toward the tavern.

I should have brought backup lazurite stones like Auren suggested. Didn’t expect to need them here, of all places. The only lazurite he currently had was from the gem embedded in the cross guard of his sword.

Hopefully it’d be enough.

He stopped in the doorway of the tavern. A few drunk patrons were still mumbling the song Osiris was singing.

"Corruption!" Rowan shouted, waving his shield in the air. "Get out of here!"

A few looked at him as if they’d never seen a human before, but didn’t move.

Then a female byzen nearby screamed and pointed behind him. That got the other byzen moving toward the back of the building in a hurry.

Rowan turned and ducked as a black axe swung at him horizontally, slicing the air where his head had been. The blade embedded itself deep in the wooden doorframe. He slid beneath the Corrupt orc’s arms as it struggled to remove the axe, slicing his sword at the black legs as he passed.

The orc flipped to the ground, but again took no damage.

You may be Corrupt, but you still fight like an orc. All power, no finesse.

The next shadowy figure was waiting for Rowan. It jabbed with the spear, but Rowan’s shield deflected, knocking the strike aside. He was well inside the weapon’s optimal range, and he took advantage. His sword swung in an uppercut, aiming to slice the spear shaft in half or at least knock it away. But when it made contact, the spear didn’t budge, instead Rowan’s sword arm reverberated with the shockwave from the failed strike.

Well, Professor Xarvus definitely didn’t mention that. He never expected Corrupt weapons would be invulnerable too.

And now he was too close to the orc’s body.

Dark arms emitting that red aura wrapped around his chest. The squeeze wasn’t hard enough to hurt him, but the first orc had finally rescued its axe from the doorframe, and that certainly could.

Add to that, Rowan had no interest in spending a second longer wrestling a Corrupt Being.

He thrust his head back, connecting with the face of the orc embracing him.

The grip loosened. He lowered his stance and escaped, swinging his sword through the enemy’s torso as he twirled away.

The orc stumbled backward.

Can’t die. But at least they still react to my attacks.

Then he noticed something strange.

The Corrupt orc with the spear was no longer holding that bizarre orb.

Where—

"Behind you!" someone shouted.

Rowan spun and fell to a knee, planting his shield in the dirt in front of him. Ready for anything. Hopefully.

A pair of black horns wreathed in red lightning slammed into the barrier, knocking him over.

The byzen he’d seen begging in the road stood above him, now black as death like the orcs. His dead partner stood behind him holding the mysterious orb—which seemed to have grown bigger and had more crackling sparks of red dancing around it.

Neither had weapons, but the first byzen lifted a hoofed foot.

That was going to hurt.

Or worse.

L’Rok-tal jumped between them, shoving the Corrupt byzen to the side. Droplets of ale flew through the air as he smashed a metal stein into the black face of the stumbling opponent.

He held the mug in one hand and twirled a broom in the other.

Somehow, Rowan got the impression this wasn’t the first time his minotaur friend had used these particular items as weapons.

He regained his feet to help.

"Go!" L’Rok-tal said.

Rowan readied his shield. "I won’t leave you."

"Then you will die." He kicked a hoofed foot back and caught Rowan in the stomach, actually dealing a small amount of damage.

"I—"

"Escape!"

Rowan hesitated, then reached down into the pouch holding his Transportation Stone.

He felt warm glass inside.

Not cool stone.

No…

He’d forgotten… During his battles with the scorpions he’d swapped his Transportation Stone out of the quick slot in favor of Decay Bombs to make his battles with the scorpions that afternoon more interesting.

He’d never switched it back.

How foolish.

Something that simple was going to result in his death.

He tried to access his Inventory, but already knew it wouldn’t work, just like the other elements of his interface he’d tried to activate.

L’Rok-tal spun the broom expertly over his head, then in front, causing the Corrupt beings to hesitate. The two original orcs moved on to the tavern to take on easier prey, but the byzen they slew on the road remained.

Screams echoed from within the hall. Fools who hadn’t fled when they had the chance.

Soon, more Corrupt byzen would be streaming from the tavern as the orcs finished their slaughter.

"Why you still here, eh?" L’Rok-tal asked as he slapped a horn strike away with his broom.

"I can’t access my Transportation Stone." He tried to hide the rising panic from his voice.

L’Rok-tal’s expression dimmed. Even he knew Rowan was doomed now.

Then it soured further as more Corrupt beings burst out from the tavern.

The orb in the female byzen’s hands continued to grow larger.

L’Rok-tal met his eyes.

"Run."

"I’ll fight with you," Rowan said.

"I’ll kill you myself, eh. Get out."

"I… I can’t leave you."

"It’s alright, Prince Rowan. You’ve got a greater destiny than I. Just remember what I said, eh."

L’Rok-tal held his broom horizontal and pushed the Corrupt byzen back toward the oncoming enemies.

Just like that, his body disappeared within the mob of black.

Rowan stood there speechless. He felt like his entire body had gone pale, his breath coming in quick short bursts, hand clammy on his sword hilt.

L’Rok-tal was gone.

Sacrificed.

For me…

Rowan turned and ran.

Several of the Corrupt byzen stared after him.

There was only one place to go.

Into the Canyon of Despair.

* * *

Hex bounced through the World Gate Concourse. It was late at night, so there were fewer Monsters and Humanoids traversing the Gates, but still more than he’d expected. It made sense though.

I suppose the Heroes aren’t sleeping when we are.

He’d collected as many materials as he could in his gate bag. Some healing potions, a bunch of the items he’d brought back from Minecube, the map he borrowed from the library, and—of course—his lazurite stone from Rupert’s axe for good luck.

He had no idea where the different Gates were on the concourse, but luckily, he’d found a plaque near the entrance with a layout displayed. Hysterium’s Gate was almost as far down the hall as it could possibly be.

A figure came toward him from ahead, moving fast. Loud running footsteps echoed off the walls.

It was a human boy—one of the one’s who’d strung him and his friends up in their sleep.

Osiris.

Hex tried to find a place to hide, but the room was wide open aside from the scattered World Gates and there were none close enough he could get behind.

Osiris slowed as he got closer, glaring at him. Despite the menace in his eyes, there was also something harrowing there.

Terrified.

He moved a hand to his dagger and for a second Hex thought he was about to draw it on him. But then the human shook his head and sped back to a run.

Well, that was strange.

Hex continued on and eventually found the Gate he was looking for.

The rug on the floor before the portal was so worn he could barely make out the World name on it. There were holes and rips around the edges.

He stared at the rippling puddle in the arch, a blurry rust-stone canyon labyrinth beyond.

Embershard Mine is somewhere in there.

Dad is somewhere in there.

The map he brought felt heavy in his bag.

I’ll be there soon.

Hex stepped through the Gate and into the World of Hysterium.