Oliver sludged through the mud after a cold autumn rain. The cold turned his feet into a couple of ice cubes. He could have made the journey northward on horseback, but he was already sore and didn’t want to banter with the knights.
Hunter was a much better companion. He waved away any questions about what they should do or what will happen. He’d say, “We don’t have to worry about it now. There’s days of travel ahead.” And he’d kick stones when they reached dry earth.
“You know,” Oliver said. “Eldrin says we could visit your world again. Would you go back?”
“Would you go back to your death place?”
Oliver hadn’t thought of Las Calas as his death place because it seemed like he’d never died, but there was a feeling of dread he hadn’t recognized. “I hadn’t thought about it. I do and I don’t.”
“I feel the same. Didn’t you have questions for Eldrin?”
“I do, but I don’t want to know the answers.”
Hunter uncorked his water skin and took a sip. “I know the feeling. Will knowing really change things?”
Oliver opened his display. He was slacking. He hadn’t checked the ratings, character level, or anything. He hadn’t kept in touch with Eldrin as much as he should. “I think I’m having a nervous breakdown.”
“Na, you’re putting things off because you have a lot on your mind. It’s nothing. Reach out to him now, and you’ll thank yourself.”
Oliver typed on the clumsy interface as the group followed a rutted track that met the lake.
Hey, Eldrin. Have you learned anything new?
The scientist responded immediately. You have no idea. I’ll summarize as best I can. NPCs have a few mental blocks. It’s like a layer of sensory deception that keeps them from making connections between ideas. It’s like learning a new word—suddenly, you see it everywhere. Before, you’re mind ignored it, but once you’re aware, it’s right in front of you. NPCs ignore everything Players do that doesn’t make sense in their world. Do you follow?
Yes, it makes sense.
Once the metal blocks are demolished, the NPC doesn’t fit neatly into the System. Normally, an NPC dies and will respawn automatically in a new game world, but that doesn’t happen once sentient. I’m not sure how we’re even alive. Something outside the code brought us back, so we awoke in the hospital afterlife. I think it’s the psychopomps toying with us. Regardless, I know how to move you between worlds. I will add it to your menu soon. Good luck, Oliver.
Move between worlds from the menu? So Oliver could return to Las Calas or take Hunter to the Grow Big or Die world. “You were wrong. I shouldn’t have talked to him. We will be able to move between worlds.”
The displaced, disordered mass of peasants lengthened into a mile-long line, pushing carts and carrying children who wouldn’t walk any further. They ran to the shore and scooped up mouthfuls of water when they reached the banks.
Sir Edmund and Sir Gillian rode at the front. Halfdan strolled beside them on foot, and the trio began to talk loudly after discovering a mutual interest in hunting. This went much better than the topic of war after Halfdan rejected the idea that cavalry would have any chance against his people.
They approached the main gate of a sprawling city, and the great doors hung from broken hinges.
Sir Gillian urged caution. He dismounted and sent in scouts, who reported a large number of undead. “We only have to get to the docks. It’s a wide thoroughfare. We can bring a few hundred at a time.”
Oliver sat on the gatehouse, where he slipped his boots off and dried his feet. Getting the first batch of people through the city took an hour.
Hunter leaned against a merlon with the gray sky behind him. “Are you sure you want to get mixed up in all this?”
“Not really, but I have to. We can’t eat ourselves into a higher rank like we did before. This is an RPG, and we need to fight and build a reputation.”
“And what do you think your advisory is doing?”
Oliver was quiet while he thought about it. “He’s building a reputation with each city he destroys and raking in experience. I can’t do that, even if my magic were strong enough.”
Halfdan didn’t push the subject but instead changed it. “I didn’t understand what you were doing or why when we met. I see now that the world is a dream, and you’re fighting a foe outside it.”
Oliver pulled a boot on. “Is everyone sentient now?”
Oliver and Halfdan followed behind the horde of three hundred down the thoroughfare.
Figures lurked in alleyways with skeletal features. Blood painted walls like graffiti. The stench of decay hung in the air. One with an eye hanging from a socket followed them with its gaze.
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A few who were barricaded in buildings crawled out of boarded-up windows and joined the march down the road.
At last, the group reached the docks. The pier extended onto murky water. Ships once moored there lay half-sunken or burned, except one vessel.
A cog with weathered timbers and a single mast bobbed at the dock. Its hull had scrapes but appeared solid. A torn sail hung from a yard, showing evidence of prior attempts to flee. Several peasants recognized it, exclaiming they had served aboard ships like this many years ago.
One said, “It’s an old style, but still good at moving a lot of cargo.”
A gray-haired man named Ulf stepped forward and spoke to the knights. “I know this lake better than my own mother’s face. Give me a few old sailors and some muscle, and I’ll get everyone across.”
The knights agreed and sent a force to secure the deck, dispatching a few undead in the hold.
Oliver boarded the cog’s worn deck and climbed a stairway to the raised aft. From the vantage he could see over most of the city's roofs.
Ropes held a ring of shields around the raised platform. In the middle, a weathered ballista sat on a pivot.
Water had blackened and rotted the wood. The ship looked like a deathtrap.
Ulf ran an eye over the ropes and planks. “She’ll float.” He organized people into skills of carpentry, sewing, and strength.
However, the knights and adventurers huddled around the whipstaff with nothing to do.
“We can load families,” Oliver said.
Sir Edmund agreed, scanning the horizon. “Look at all the fires.” Dozens of gray columns rose on either side of the lake. “The enemy is close. We need to get these people over as soon as we can.”
Refugees moved onto the cog in small groups, tripping and bumping into each other. They needed to step carefully over the warped boards and down snapped rungs.
Owen stood next to the Ulf. “In these past few centuries, little hath changed in the building of ships.”
Ulf chuckled and pulled a splinter from a rotted bulwark. “This thing is ancient. It carries cargo, though, and some lunatic still takes it across these deep waters.”
Arms folded against an evening breeze, Charity gazed at the only visible spec of land on the far shore. “I don’t know how to swim.”
Oliver wanted to wrap his arms around her to warm her up but couldn’t bring himself to. It was only a game, after all. Why couldn’t he at least act the way he wanted to be? The bonds of a fake life still had him trapped.
They cut the thick ropes holding the vessel in place and cast off. The cog drifted from the dock, creaking. Ulf sent his fellow sailors out to adjust the rigging and waved to Oliver. “You seem like a strong lad. Could you help set sail?”
Oliver agreed and handed his swordstaff to Hunter. He stepped out onto the ratlines. Only one of the old sailors was fit enough to accompany him.
The gray-haired man climbed quickly and looked down. “You coming?”
“Sure.” The ropes held, and the accent brought Oliver to a platform where he had to climb through a hole.
The spar jutted out over the water. The ship's movement multiplied at this height and made the world tilt.
The man had crawled out onto the spar. “Untie the gaskets.”
Oliver got down on his belly and sooted out. He’d seen foot ropes on the last ship he was on, but not here. He worked on the rope and tried not to look down. Suddenly, he felt like he knew what he was doing, that all the rigging lines made some sense.
Bing. He got a notification. When he climbed down to solid ground, he checked it. He had an old message that said he could level up as a Star Mage. And a new one said he had gained proficiency in sailing.
After they hauled the sail out, the cog meandered out into the dark waters.
Sunset stained the sky in dull reds. The ship rocked. Waves lapped at the hull.
Oliver climbed the shrouds again and sat on the platform. The lake stretched in all directions, a dark plain under multiplying stars. He messaged Eldrin. He didn’t want to leave the scientist in the dark, especially with how much help he had been. He told him about his whereabouts and his rough plan.
The breeze lessened since the ship went in the same direction. It raised goosebumps on his arms. Before he climbed down, he smelled something. It was like rotting seaweed, or worse.
From his vantage, he scanned the horizon and spotted a mast aftward. An alarm sounded in his mind when he saw the crew. “Ship,” he called down.
Ulf ordered everyone with a bow to the fore and aft castles. Sigrid stood among them at the aft.
Oliver hurried down and reclaimed his swordstaff. He asked Ulf to help make room for him at the very stern of the ship.
Sigrid stood behind him. “Are you going to sink them?”
Of course, Oliver was. This was the perfect opportunity to gain more reputation. Plus, this was the only way to survive.
He took a steady breath and thought about aiming. He’d try one shot at this distance and wait if he missed. The star energy burned inside him as if it wanted to release itself. He unleashed a beam that tore through the night. It struck the undead vessel’s hull amidships, puncturing planks with a searing flash.
The hull split, fragments dissolving in the beam’s path. There was a moment of silence, and the entire ship burst into flames. The water boiled around it, and large columns of steam rose.
The cog pitched slightly from the discharge of magical energy. Oliver gripped a shield at the side to steady himself. The release of power had increased. But it took more out of him as well. He’d have to wait a few minutes between blasts if he ever had to use it in succession.
The sailors and knights exchanged looks on deck. They seemed surprised or afraid. Perhaps they were in awe.
The land appeared as a black strip against moon reflections and stars. Close up, a gray line of rocky beach and sparse trees met them.
The ship had to make three crossings to ferry the families across the lake. Meanwhile, they slept on the narrow beach. When the last families arrived, it was morning.
Oliver and his companions found themselves forced to flee north. The enemy appeared no more than a league south.
Sir Gillian rode up and down the line of people. “If someone can’t walk, carry them. If they can’t be carried, leave them behind.”
Oliver and his companions hurried ahead. He climbed a tree to get a better look at the coming threat.
Thousands of soldiers marched toward, along the lake and in a thin forest. At the outskirts of their ranks, they fought undead. Amongst the ordinary units, a few massive hulks pulled sleds. Giants and trolls moved among the multitudes.
Oliver had planned to help defeat this force. That would be a stepping stone to a higher rank, but this was daunting.
Hunter materialized on a bough beside him. “Second guessing yourself?”
“You could say that.”