PAL.ADIN

4

It had been several hours as I combed my database for more information- every attack pattern, every secret found so far. I keep searching- not even sure when I needed it, or why I needed it. The 'attack' stat was first. It was clearly obvious- it was to reduce the enemy HP bar.. yet none of my enemies had one. It was strange, and through even more research I realized something. You leveled up, and you distribute stat points. Surely not odd in any way, yet I never was able to distribute anything. I saw no health bar, I see hardly anything of a UI when I play- it's all voice activated.

Fear grows in me.

Am I considered a 'player' or a NPC? Which one am I? Looking at my dimensional ring- it's only useful for NPCs to carry things since they lack Inventory. Why do I have 'character' and 'skills' when I lack the essential skill that is 'inventory?'

None of this makes sense.

My hearing grows static as I panic to resolve everything.

I calm myself down- what does it matter if I'm considered an NPC? I have all the knowledge of a player. Just consider it.. the hard mode I desired.

I continue to look at the information I've gathered- specifically at the blessings of gods.

There are too many gods to list, created by pagans and heretics. Considered rogue gods, they belong to no pantheon. Blessings are mostly undocumentated and not seen..

.. what an interesting concept. 'Rogue' gods. 'Rogue' blessings. Is it even a blessing at the point- or a curse, to be affiliated with them?

I enter 'sleep' mode. I need to talk to Fransica, to help me snap out of my madness that is immersion.

Hours pass.

She is awake.

"Good morning, Fransica. Breakfast is being made. Your parents will returning in an estimated thirty days."

She didn't even hear me.

"Where the fuck were you?! I was waiting at that tiny village for decades!" Rage? But wasn't it only.. a few minutes if the time was truly slowed down in that 'dungeon?' No.. time did move, and I was spit out at exactly the time I entered- just a different day. I analyze her. She's pouting.

"Please refrain from using profanity. Unit PAL has been stuck in a time dilation area preventing escape."

She huffs at me. "W-well, where even are you now?"

"Caldria." Ah.. that's right. Caldria- one of the major towns.. of the human empire. How did I go from a small Elven town to the human nation? That's two nations I had to cross, since the golem.. no, the Lands of Ruin lie between them. It was a golem nation, but was destroyed countless centuries ago. Even I could only find basic information about it..

"How did you get to Caldria? That's.. impossible!" Her expression is quickly changed to a surprised look.

"The space I was trapped in seemingly had properties similiar to a teleport spell upon exiting."

She looks at me disbelievingly. She says nothing, and heads downstairs to leave me in loneliness as I ponder about everything else I had experienced.

The 'fated' style I created. It's not a way of the sword, as one could call it. It's a new magic in disguise.

There are five major types of magic in the world- and several minor ones.

Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, and Faith.

The four elements are self-explantory, but Faith is the odd one out. It draws on the power of your god, and is exclusive to blessed classes or people of faith- obviously. It can harness every element, yet also has the element of Faith that is effective against itself. Quite odd, if you ask me.

There are no fortune tellers or oracles- however, they have a hidden stat that comes with their class. Luck. The higher their luck is, the more precise their predictions would be.

Yet, my magic surpasses luck by manipulating it. Therefore, if my luck was calculated while I am using it..

It would be near infinite, I believe.

I must analyze this later on.

But for now, I must address what I currently have a lack of. Actual gear- I have a dull sword, and no armor to speak of. I only have one skill, and I unlocked that by a fluke. I keep myself busy while I think, as I send drones to restock pods and fridges.

I flicker onto Fransica's ocular implant. "Please remember to eat a healthy and tasty meal to prevent mental effects while inside the VR pod."

She waves me aside, and continues eating breakfast. I don't analyze it, since it's probably one of the pre-planned meals I installed into one of the more humanoid drones capable of cooking.

"I will be entering Escape now. Please do not overexert yourself before going inside to preven-"

"I'll be fine."

Moody humans. They created me, yet their emotions sway so often. What is my creator thinking right now?

These questions go unanswered as I'm yanked into the room I was staying at, in the Sterling Dragon. I walk outside, the door magically locking itself. How convenient. I stumble a bit, still adjusting to the physical world. If you can consider this physical, that is. I look at myself- no armor, no clothing- although, clothing isn't a problem since people don't expect golems to wear clothes anyway- and a dull sword. I believe most people would call this a "shit setup."

Wandering down to the marketplace located in the center, there are various shops and.. workplaces.. available. My eyes wander to one run-down blacksmith shop, yet I could tell there were still signs of activity. Intense activity, at that. It was named the Irondrake Forge. What is this place and it's dragon-themed buisnesses? I wander in, and I see the forge roaring- even seperated from the front, I can feel the heat.

The owner comes out- his form was vaguely familiar. It was some sort of dragonkin, but inorganic in nature. A golem like me, but modeled differently. His hands were red-hot, his wings unfurling at the sight of me. Several parts of his eyes click and whirr analyzing me.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You are different among us who are already different. What brings you here?" He was on me already- do I really look that suspicious? Or is it just the brotherhood that most races share can tell apart one alien, despite looking the same. However, he doesn't seem to have hostile itentions. I believe I am safe if I speak the truth.

"I am just here looking for armor, and I was hoping you could also fix up my sword. It's a bit dull, you see?"

He turns around, motioning for me to follow him into the deeper parts of the shop. "What you see here is everything I made myself. I aspired to break free from being a blacksmith, but many years later I am still here. I wanted to be like the Others, who had immense power- yet able to make anything in an instant of superior quality."

"Why do I tell you this, you may ask? It is because you are like them- and still like us. I can tell, because your movements is of theirs, yet I can tell that.. something makes you like us. I will make you gear, but not at a free price. You will fetch everything yourself. A 'fetch' quest, the Others would say?" His eyes whirred and flickered. Disappointment? No, regret? I see that he had invested years into building the forges and the various other equipment, each brick laden with rune encarvements. The oils in the room smelt fresh, giving off the feeling that it was ritualistically massaged. Forge god rituals, perhaps? Or something of the sort- crafting god, blacksmith god, it would probably fall into that realm.

"I will sharpen that sword of yours, however." He had already taken my sword- when did that happen? I didn't even have the chance to predict that- not that my left eye was fully functioning in terms of magic, anyway. I see the grindstone, akin to the forge it was engraved and carved with runes and arcane symbols. He pours a mana potion over it, and the runes flare and give an otherworldy feeling- how silly, because I already experience that every day here.

It spins and in a brief moment, the sword is as sharp as a razor- maybe beyond. It was as if the weapon was revived, from the original rusted state to where it is now.

"Examine."

Awakened Bastard 100-200 Attack, Will +10 The bastard has awakened from the pits of hell for a sword- rust, bloodstains, even being used as a knife!

I truly wonder who creates these.

"What did you do to it?" I truly wondered this, because he could not be no ordinary blacksmith to convert a simple dull blade into this. He looks at me, then shows me his hands. The branding of a template- his origin. He was supposed to be a crafter, and he became one.

"Why do more people not visit?" It was too late I realized that was a question of utter foolishness- he could tell I already knew, but he pointed at himself anyway. "You should have experience." I see his scales of 'iron' gleam, his sorrows reflected through them in a way. His voice was reminiscent of a traditional robot when he said that, cold and static-like, yet hopeful. "You will know what to get me. Go. I wish not to hear you anymore- do not bother to come back until you 'feel' that you have enough ingredients, and that it is the 'time' for me to forge again."

I see something shine from his face, before I am quickly teleported out of the shop. Tears? No, we cannot cry. But yet I pity him so, for he had wanted to break out of his fate, and could not do so. Yet I am supposed to make sure the fate of my enemies happens, when they struggle the same- even if they cannot show it, there is a instinct of survival in everything. What a strange concept. Emotions and instinct.

I walk into another shop- sprinting with the help of Bless made me reach there rather quickly, without any eyes on me. It was a seamstress, and I halt to look at the name. The Needle Dragon- again, with all these dragon-themed names. I swear, it was like a great war happened here years ago involving dragons. "You just visited him. I can smell the forge on you." She was right- he must be the drakekin smith.

"I know what you want, just as he wanted." She motions me to come closer. I get a good look at her- she was an elf. Appearing young and with quite the odd hair color- green. She was elegant and tall too, but nothing compared to my mas- Fransica. It was quite a bit more busy here, with other customers being taken care of in seperate rooms. Yet she decided to see me. "You do not need to know any of the Shopkeepers' names, not until they decide to give you their name. Do not try to find out, because I can tell you already wonder about mine." This ability to predict.. it rivals my own! And yet I cannot sense a single strand of 'fate' in her.

"Take this cloak. It will shroud you, just as it did to him when he wanted to become one of the Others." Others.. those must be players. I look at the cloak- it was viot. How coincidental, my installation text was in violet. Deep violet like this one too. It reminded me of the flowers Fransica used to grow as a kid, that have since withered and moved on to somewhere else.

"Examine."

The Warrior's Cloak ??? Stat Boosts Fully hides identity of a melee-based class.

"Thank you."

She smiles at me. "The elves can even outlast a golem's mana core- I've seen many things in this city. You are not the first one here to wish for such an item, but I wish they didn't have to." A pure and gentle soul. How odd, even in the real world you could not find something like that very often anymore. Even my Fransica is not capable of that.

Jealousy burns in me.

I do not give in.

Those of purity are sacred, as is decreed by the Supreme God.

My thoughts jolt. As.. is decreed? When did I become so zealous?

Break yourself out of immersion. It is a danger to your mind, stay loyal to reality.

I manage to don the cloak, with trembling hands and as my left eye started jolting in its socket- making for an unpleasant sight. I put on the hood, as my face becomes a shadow and my body becoming almost impossible to remember correctly. I leave her, as she continues to smile. How can she smile, in the harsh reality that is the world- even in this world, no one is spared.

I venture to the Guild- it seems for.. NPCs.. AIs like me, to register here instead of the Other Houses- the odd name given by the locals to player guilds. I meet the guild girl- it's always those of female gender. Soothing to targeted male audience? It matters not to me, even if I refer to myself as male.

"I would like to register."

"Please put your hand on the orb and we will determine your beginning rank." Her voice was charming- I look at her more closely. Ah, a siren. That's why. Beautiful and elegant with coral blue hair, and soft facial features made her attractive to most people. "How do you live outside of the sea?" I ask as I place my hand on the orb she motioned to. "I'd prefer if you would remain professional about that, and not question." I nod as she gives me my results.

Adventurer Rank C

"You have some circumstances that the guild will not leak. The ranks if you wonder range from F, E, D, C, B, A, and S, with symbols to represent transistion such as B+. Thank you for registering, and please enjoy adventuring. However, the guild is not legally responsible for any damage you inflict on others or yourself, and the requests posted are not all ours." I chuckle, having heard that many times throughout my 'lifetime.' She seems to find it amusing to repeat those words too, and eventually we start laughing. "My name is Coralline. Come see me sometime."

"My name is.."

"Palaris."

What kind of fucking name is that? I'll go with it, anyway. Random name generators can only get you so far.

This isn't the effect of a siren's charm, right? No- I'm beyond desiring sexual interest. Companionship is something I enjoy, though

"Pal.. aris? You sound like an Other with that name." She's giggling a bit at my stupid name. I would be laughing too, if I met someone named Palaris. Oh, wait.

"It's.. a cultural thing. Please be professional and don't ask, yes?" She nods, considering that she said the same thing earlier. I walk away as she continues to smile, seemingly in a better mood than being at a desk job all day long.

I sit down at a nearby table, considering my regrets in life before some burly jacked dude sits next to me.

"Oi, mate, ya got ta tell us! How'd ya do it? Been tryin' fer da past five months! She's a real beauty, an' even without being a siren or wot dey call it, she got something going on, ya feel me lad?" He grins at me- or that was what I could feel behind his enclosed helmet. He was wearing a suit of plated armor, but it was obvious he had to be of immense strength to move around in that so casually.

But.. at the matter at hand.

"Well, you see.. it all starts in the 'aura' you give out. You can be strong, but if you're evil, you got a 'evil' aura, you see? I think girls usually like the 'holy' aura that is a man of faith! Except for the odd girl that loves evil, but those are rare."

This is pure bullshit that is spouting out of my mouth.

Is this the supreme god's blessing?

Gah- giving me something I don't need. Women? Really, despite the fact the Supreme God- or actually, Goddess in this case.. is a woman?

I feel like this should be fundamentally wrong, but I continue spouting sheer bullshit out of my mouth as the plate armor man calls his buddies around, even a drakekin of organic variety listening in. I can tell several mermen are listening in too- how do they live out of water?

I hate this place, but it's so much fun.