ARC1/C16 – Game On

Traksis’s race was nomadic in origin, but since war had become the permanent state of affairs in the Seracian Kingdom, their population had imploded. They were no longer given any territory to remain on and had to forage along the trackless wastes to find any prey whatsoever. But what little prey existed was wiped out by the continuous war maneuvers where anything and everything was eradicated. Because the wasteland was now a no-go zone to any living lifeforms ceaselessly patrolled by AI-controlled droids and drones, what’s more droids had little to no Psi energy for them to feed on.

However, something that she tasted did. She and her swarm quickly changed their trajectory to follow this new source of sustenance. What it was, she could not tell, but it was spread over quite a wide area. They followed: a cloud of iridescent beating orange wings.

***

It was now that Sam found out the true reason the members of the resistance had risked their lives to come and extract him from the Seracian’s hands. He was worth money. The group already had the info on Earthlings and their high awakening rate. This led them to agree with the deal proposed eagerly.

The multi-verse didn’t spend all their time destroying one another. You might think from the way they dealt with newly claimed worlds that warfare was their constant state, but this could not be further from the truth. All-out war between nations was non-existent, and there had not been any wars of this kind for thousands of years.

However, ‘competitions’ were a constant. Where lifeforms from any world could battle it out for simple leveling, and rights, all important competitions were overseen by Seers. Still, the smaller competitions and unscheduled ones were unpoliced, and a lot of the daily gambling went on.

All disputes between factions were also settled through duels and competitions. In fact, the political power and ranking of factions were solidified and renewed by their equivalent of the Olympic Games—only a far more brutal and violent version. Factions were also represented at all levels in continual competition events throughout the year, leading up to the final Games, which were simply called the Elite Games. Parallels again could be drawn in that there were a plethora of award ceremonies and prestigious awards given at these events also, similar to our Gold, Silver, and Bronze medal ceremonies.

To get the resistance members interested, as a plurality, they were just referred to as ‘The Group’; the Therulians had promised to enlist top psi candidates that could be used as they wished. What this meant in layman’s terms was that they could be entered in any competition they wanted. This would allow “The Group” to make money by gambling on these combatants. The odds would be in their favor as they would be privy to the prowess of said individuals before the competition, whereas anyone else making a bet could not.

As such, Sam and the others had been treated as prized possessions and had been ferried in a high-tech luxury car all the way to some posh-arsed hotel. Sam felt it was completely laughable. These people were supposed to be the hard-done-by resistance, yet they were staying in a palatial hotel while the remainder of Earth’s population was inhabiting the shells of burnt-out cities. He really didn’t know what to think, and judging by Sarah and Maria’s expressions on entering the lobby, they hadn’t a clue either.

Sam sat in their hotel room looking over the papers he had been given - details of his false persona, along with identity papers and cards. He also looked out over the brightly lit cityscape below from his bulletproof Perspex balcony window.

He noted idly to himself that, despite all the high-tech, it seemed that this place could still do with mosquito nets or something of the like to deal with the tropical pests, as he had heard the distinct sound of buzzing in the room. He would ask room service on the way out if they could deal with it, as he didn’t fancy a case of multi-verse malaria; he had enough of alien viruses for the time being.

It was good to just lay back on the bed for a while, though, after going through his backstory for the umpteenth time in his head. He was Tray Obroth, a nobody, an Outworlder that had come to seek his fortune, competing, one of tens of thousands of others in the Iktophos City.

His license allowed him to enter any mirror realm legally, and he now also knew how they worked. Or at least how to enter one safely. The card would only allow admittance if the life forms within the mirror realm were within a certain level limit. This was supposed to make it fair for competitors. Making it impossible for a high-level opponent to head into the mirror realm and wipe out a squad of low-level players. Also, low-level players could not intrude on a high-level match held in the mirror realm.

This made Sam feel at ease; things were far more civilized here than he had expected. He thought this probably didn’t stretch to those matches which were scheduled and had serious betting going on.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Sam checked in with Sarah and Maria, as Lopez and Bartholomew had already headed out. He was interested to know if either wanted to do some leveling, but both were happy just chilling out in the hotel. He could see his sister looked a bit guilty, but he didn’t want to push it. So taking a taxi using the small amount of credits he’d been furnished by ‘” The Group” representative, he headed downtown to the site of the nearest mirror.

The City was massive, way bigger than any city on Earth, and this was just a small-sized city, apparently. Lights blurred by as they made their way at speed along some kind of high-speed underpass, coming out near the location of the mirror. It wasn’t hard to spot due to its familiar pyramid shape but also due to its high-security presence. These were not just sites of security but also sites of importance to the local economy, as cores could be sold for high prices, on the open market.

Sam could now detect with the help of his card and his higher perception the glow the mirror gave off around its edges signalling the level of those within the realm. Thinking about it, Sam took back everything about the war like nature of the multi-verse. This was essentially the equivalent of an airport to other worlds. An airport where the security shot any one on sight. What a messed up place this was.

Exiting the taxi, Sam approached the queue of people filing into the mirror. He got lots of odd looks as most people entered with their teams. A team would also be balanced with Psionics from a few of the main groups. Sam felt a bit uncomfortable but he was just too eager to get on with his leveling. He hoped he could also, stay in the mirror realm after the battle and continue leveling his skills in peace.

The most common grouping was a Prime for DPS, a Modder either as a buffer or healer, along with either or all of the following: a Mover, Seller or Constructor these were all seen as low DPS and CC (crowd control). Other combinations existed but most followed the national team combinations which had proved most favourable.

He showed the guards at the entrance of the metal enclosure to the mirror his ID and was waived through, in disbelief. He could now end up fighting against any race from the multiverse. All that he knew for certain was that they would not be much higher than level 20.

Sam was quite confident that even if things got a bit crazy, going in with covered with his energy body as a kind of shield he should at least be able to get out using [Flight] back to the exit, if needed.

As there were already combatants inside the realm I did not get to choose were the battle would take place and just walked on through.

He stood for a few heart beats, quizzically wondering if he should have taken a shot of something, he could hear that dam buzzing again, before he stepped into the mirror realm.

Well what do you know? It was a giant sandscape. At least it made it easy to see his opponents. What where the hell were they?

Sam immediately switched to using [Flight] as he had a bad feeling about this. Doing a 360 in the air he could still see no targets. Though also he could see no end to the desert in front of him, maybe they were just some ways off.

Then he saw a clump of trees in the distance. An oasis perhaps. And now he could see the mobs, they were pretty huge in comparison to the trees. Looked like trolls? He’d go with that.

Shooting over their heads, he tried using alternating streams of Cryokinesis and Pyrokinesis. This certainly seemed to do the job as the superheated trolls detonated spraying chunks of visceral everywhere. Not for the first time, Sam pondered how well the droids he’d seen before would stand up against his current level of attacks.

After wiping out about twenty or so of the trolls. He hovered over the area and used tendrils of energy to snatch up the still steaming cores from amongst what was left of the corpses.

He realized he’d need to get a better backpack as these cores would probably burn a hole straight through it. Then he thought about using the oasis. Hoping that the cores didn’t explode he rolled them into the waters of the oasis.

This was weird, fake illusonary water and yet it had cooled the cores or had it just given the illusion of doing so and his backpack would melt. Not being able to take the risk, instead Sam held the cores in a film of Psi energy, much as he had when carrying the others before, through the Seracian camp.

Still, he was glad he’d decided to use his [Pyrokinesis] attack otherwise he would have no idea where he’d been in this desert, if it weren’t for the smouldering and blackened ground, left from his attacks. He even burnt an arrow into the sand, turning it to sludge like glass, to point back in the direction of the exit.

Flying around the desert in all directions he found fifty or so more troll like creatures and added their cores to his others. Finding no more, though he knew some more might enter if he remained, he decided to exit for now.

He wasn’t sure exactly how things worked but he had been using most of his abilities while flying around so not much could be gained by staying, unless he was not allowed to enter again.

On second thoughts he decided to hover above the exit, for twenty minutes or so, leveling his abilities. Until.

[Pyrokinesis is Level 100 break through to Tier-F achieved]

[Processing… new abilities]

[Cryokinesis is Level 100 break through to Tier-F achieved]

[Synergy detected processing… new ability]

Each time this happened it was starting to feel a little bit like his Birthday to Sam. He tried not to feel this way but he had to admit it was a little addictive.

While he was waiting he was still wondering what to do about the cores. He guessed it depended what they had on offer at the trade center. What he really wanted was a offensive ability and heal though he’d heard that was super-rare ability that only high-level modders could acquire. He wondered if he could just have looked up that stuff while at his hotel. Actually did they have such a thing as the internet?