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World: MSS - Loading...

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“So… this is the magic tower.”

“You’ve never seen one before?”

Out of reflex, I nodded my head. “I have seen them before.”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I had seen them before on the computer screen. Just not in real life.

The mage tower stood in the middle of a field, Kyrian and I having had to kill a few stray monsters on our way here. However, it wasn’t a huge issue; I assumed that Kyrian could have made it to this place by himself if he really needed to. The Tower took care not to let the surrounding monsters grow too big in number nor strength. They had to keep the roads nice and clean.

In the Jayu States, there were multiple towers but this was the ‘best among the best’ according to Dibo. It went by the name of Morlus Tower. When I saw this thing as a bunch of grouped up pixels on the screen, it had failed to convey the sheer scale of how big this Tower was.

Rather than a singular building, the tower looked like someone mushed together spires, slammed on it once with his fist and then wrapped the whole thing around with multiple ribbons with stairs attached to them. I could understand why it was called a tower though, the thing was tall if not pretty. Made of orange bricks that had been faded by the passage of time, it looked like a living breathing organism. I saw little figures –no doubt people– going up and down the stairs. People in robes, regular clothing.

It looked more like a town that had converted itself into one giant misshapen apartment complex.

“Are you done staring?” Kyrian had a smirk on his face, betraying his youth.

The blonde mage had gone all out for today, having laundered his robes and even wore jewelry. His hair was nice and curled. If it wasn’t for the Slum Stench piercing through the borrowed perfume and the bits of dirt still clogged underneath his fingernails, as well as the stains on the edge of his robes near his feet, he could have passed off as a real genuine mage. Fitting in with high society and all that.

I told him as much.

“Well, if it wasn’t for the debt that Skaris and I had to pay on your behalf…” Kyrian answered, an easy smile on his face.

“I hope they still let us in. We smell like garbage. You smell like garbage… except just better looking.”

“I aim to please.” The mage bit his lip, looking at the tower with something like longing in his face.

Even after I told the [Tortured Kris], I still had some debt left over to Krag, Dibo, Track and Eltis. Finally, Kyrian had gotten fed up with me moaning about how everything was so expensive. Without Skaris’ consent, he took the scaled warrior’s gold and combined it to his own, paying off the rest of the debt.

Finally, I was debt free.

For now.

If it wasn’t for me, Skaris and Kyrian wouldn't have to stay with me in the Slums. Actually, Skaris would’ve probably stayed; I knew for a fact that the Deepeater Clan lived in a marsh-like village, their homes half-submerged in mud. Kyrian on the other hand… he had grown up in a Noble’s House, even if it was separated from the rest of the manor. He was also a Mage, who had no doubt been influenced by his peers’ taste for the finer things in life.

I can’t claim to know if Kyrian felt embarrassed by the situation. But I assume it wasn’t too different from when I had my own riches to rags episode back home. How my uniform was no longer crisply ironed every morning, how I couldn’t afford the latest tie clip or bracelet. I didn’t take any limo to get to school either, I took the bus with people going to public schools and work.

I realized that Kyrian was trying his best and I was just making fun of him.

I could put it off to inexperience, but in the end I was being a crappy friend.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry. You look great.”

He grimaced. “No… you’re right. They might turn us away.”

“Dibo’s letter told me he informed them of our arrival.”

Some of the tension left the mage’s shoulders. “Well, Magus Dibo has his own office here. No doubt he’s of some rank in one form or another. I’m sure they won’t mistreat us. Especially not if they recognize who you are.”

“Right.” I answered back and started to follow behind Kyrian’s steps. “I somehow doubt that mages are the prime candidates for Colosseum watchers.”

Since I’d fought against Dorothy, I’d fought in two more Colosseum matches. Both of them against no importance according to Yousef. But it was important to solidify my strength so that even higher ranking fighters would pay attention to me. Right now, everyone was waiting to see if my victory against Dorocian Kojisan was just a bad match-up for her, or I was truly just stronger than her. As a result, Yousef hadn’t been able to get any more matches with renowned fighters.

Which was fine for me, I needed more time to do some housekeeping stuff. Like what I was doing now, accompanying Kyrian to the Mage Tower and meeting Dibo.

“You’d be surprised how being stuck in a research lab all day studying about the monster habitat could lead to strange hobbies.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence, mostly because it was uphill and because I could sense Kyrian growing nervous.

“I thought you came here last time.” I commented as we neared the tower. Soon we’d be at the gates.

“I did… though only on the first floor. Getting a Mana Core from them is an entirely different matter.” He replied. “Not everyone can get a Mana Core.”

“I thought the whole point of the Babel Towers was to give everyone a chance? Isn’t that why the Mages broke off from Turina and Jayu in the first place?”

“Yes. But it’s been a long time since then and… you still have to pass the aptitude test.”

I put a hand on the young mage’s shoulder. Since when did Kyrian’s shoulder feel so small and brittle? As I absorbed more Cores, the difference in our physiques was growing. Meanwhile, Kyrian’s magical prowess was nowhere near what I could even dream of. It was the way of MSS, the differences between classes were like night and day.

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Specializing was the only way to survive in this place.

“Kyrian Tricilan.”

“Lock Slaveborn.”

At the gate was a pair of young mages, even younger than Kyrian. They both were brown robes with the cowl over their heads and I was sure that the color was indicative of their rank. Judging by their ages and the fact that they were guarding the gates, I assumed that these were trainees or fresh apprentices. No true Mage would let themselves be demoted to a guard or worse yet, talking to us mere mortals.

“Ah, yes. Magus Dibo has been expecting you.” With a small mutter, one of the apprentices waved his staff and the gate swung wide open revealing a courtyard filled with waypoints.

“You’ll want to take this one here..”

Walking onto the waypoint, I sensed a brief burst of Mana from the aprentice mage before my vision was covered by bright light.

In an instant, I was in Dibo’s office.

Perhaps, office wasn’t an adequate explanation. I was in Dibo’s floor. The whole place was the size of a large condo, with multiple doors leading to different areas. But the immediate room we were in looking like where Dibo spent most of his time. The place had been partitioned off into two different areas, one filled with vials nad flasks –no doubt a laboratory– and the other with a couch and dining table.

So this was where Dibo lived. Interesting.

“Welcome.” The man in question got up from the couch, greeting us. “I was waiting for you two.”

“Magus Dibo. It’s good to see you again.”

My tone wasn’t anywhere near as formal as Kyrians. “Dibo.”

If it bothered him any, the elderly elven mage didn’t show it. He welcomed us in with a smile and soon, we were all seated around the coffee table with a steaming mug of tea in front of us.

Soon, Kyrian and Dibo engaged in the mundane conversation about the weather, how our hunting has been and whatnot. I remember playing as a Mage and whenever I came to the Tower, I had to suck-up to the high-ranking mages to try and get a higher affinity rating with them. The better your affinity rating with them, the cheaper they sold you the Mana Cores for. Since Mana Cores could only be obtained through the Towers… well, this had been a necessary part of the game.

So I waited.

“Since we already spoke last time, I won’t keep you long.” Dibo said finally. “Magus Kyrian, which Core will you be taking?”

“I believe I’ll be taking another Lightning Core, Magus Dibo.”

“Ah, a great choice.”

I sniffed. Unlike the Cores of adventurers, it wasn’t like Mages could keep their Cores secret. You could simply deduce it by seeing what spells they used. It honestly didn’t matter, Mages made up for the lack of secrecy of their build with a variety of spells and sheer firepower.

“Best of luck on your exam, Magus Kyrian.”

Kyrian took the waypoint out, heading to the higher floors.

With all the impatience of a gamer, I spoke first.

“I have some questions to ask you.”

Dibo raised a glass to his lips, arching an eyebrow. “Not a single word when we were talking about the weather. And now, the first words to escape your lips are a demand.”

“Tell me everything you know.” I forged ahead, ignoring his statement.

All wit and tact. Kyrian would be proud.

The elven mage sighed, leaning back into the couch and studying me. After a second, he smiled. “My father was the same way.”

“I grew up like every other elf. My father was a relatively successful adventurer, making it all the way to Grade 4. Thanks to him, my mother and I was not left wanting. Despite it, we lived a simple life. We were all happy.” He sipped at the tea again, eyes looking far away, no longer paying attention to me. “Well, my mother and I assumed we were all happy.”

“Your father wasn’t.” I whispered. “He couldn’t have been. He was a [Player] from another world.”

He nodded, peering at me for a second then looking far away again, trapped in his own thoughts. “Yes. Once I started showing talents in the Arcane, he immediately enrolled me into the Towers. With his connections and my own aptitude, it wasn’t hard for me to rise through the ranks. Powerful Mana Cores, rare monster ingredients… Once again, thanks to my father.”

“Was he using Magic to look for a way back?”

It had been something I’d considered.

Magic was real in this world. It must have been through magical means that I was transmigrated to MSS. Then it stood to reason that using the same Magic, I could return back to my world. I didn’t know how magic worked, but in theory it seemed sound. Of course that brought its own load of troubles I had to think about, such as my original body. But I just wanted to know if it was possible.

Dibo’s bitter smile halted that train of thought like a steel wall.

“No. I know what you are thinking but it is not possible. And I’ve done my own research through the years. I am reasonably sure that it was not through normal magical means that [Players] were summoned to this world. My father knew this as well.”

I gritted my teeth. “Your father… I assume he was researching about [Players]. How they got here. Why they got here. Is that why he sent you to the Mage Tower? To help him?”

“No.”

“No?” I frowned. “Then why would he send you to the Tower? He had no reason to-”

“My father loved my mother, Lock Slaveborn.” Dibo whispered. “He loved me. Of those two things, there was never any doubt. And he kept us in the dark about his personal research.”

I stopped at the look on Dibo’s face. There was something fierce in his eyes, daring me to contest what he said.

Damn. I’d basically inadvertently told him that [Players] wouldn’t care about the life they made in this world… that his father would have left him and his mother in a heartbeat.

Tilting my head in a half-apology, I nodded for him to continue.

“What he researched, he researched why, not how. Why you [Players] are summoned to this world.” Dibo shook his head. He took out a small notebook, worn with time and frayed at the edges. It was bound by a leather cover, filled with yellowed pages. Dibo held it delicately and passed it over like it was a newborn infant. “This came into my possession when I was sitll a young man. After my father died.”

I carefully took the page and opened it.

It wasn’t this world’s language.

It was my world’s language.

It was Spanish.

“This is…”

“His diary.” Dibo smiled.

I passed the notebook back to him. Then simply asked, “How?”

“In a dungeon. By monsters.” He said, just as direct.

I looked into his eyes.

Anger.

“You don’t buy it.”

“His party was full of Grade 4 adventurers, my father was a professional Field Boss hunter. They were found dead in a regular dungeon not fifty miles from where this tower stands. He died in a dungeon full of Grade 7 monsters.” Dibo’s eyes flashed with bitterness. “So yes, Lock Slaveborn. I do not buy it that my father was killed by monsters.”

“You suspect other [Players].”

“Indeed. I do.”

I leaned back on the couch. “I’m sorry for your loss Dibo. But I don’t see how this pertains to the information you promised me. You promised me to tell me everything you know about Players and their Guild. If this is everything you had to tell me…”

I hated to sound cold but I wasn’t in this to avenge Dibo’s father’s death.

I was in this for myself. To find a way back home. If there was even a small chance I could go back home without beating the game…

I would take it.

Wouldn’t I?

Whoa. Why wouldn’t I?

“Ok, not the best time to go down that route.” I told myself before self-reflection could truly set in.

“No. I have more for you.” Dibo went over to one of his desks and brought out small notepad, kind of like a folder.

Taking it from his hands, I saw that there were a few sheets of paper in there. Taking a cursory look, I saw that they were written in MSS language. Something I could kind of read.

“Burn it after you read it.”

“Ok.” Making the folder disappear into my Dimension Ring, I looked at Dibo expectedly. “You wouldn’t call me here just to tell me your life’s story and hand me a stack of paper. You want to talk about something else, about working together.”

“The [Player’s Guild].” I finished.

Dibo looked at the cup of tea in his hand.

“My own goal is to find out what happened to my father. The truth behind the incident.” His faded green eyes met mine. “You wish to gather information on other Players. I believe we could work together.”

“In three day’s time, the Church of Light, Flame and Shield will send out a general call for adventurers. They need help recovering a [Relic] from a Dungeon, in an island near the Jayu and Turina Border. Jayu adventurers will be required to work with Turina adventurers. A way to strengthen relations between the two countries.”

“A way to weaken the other and strengthen themselves.” I muttered.

“Good. You understand.” Dibo leaned forward, almost glaring into my soul. “I have gotten a hold of information that the [Player’s Guild] will be participating.”

“You want me to participate… get close to them.” I frowned. “How will I know they’re [Players]?”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t need to. I’m sure they’ll approach you. After all, you’ve made quite a name for yourself and there’s plenty of information in the Black Market about your identity as a [Player].”

I did not know that.

I also didn’t know my mouth was hanging open.

“Do this for me, Lock Slaveborn. And I will be forever in your debt.”

I stared at Dibo then opened my mouth to speak, choosing my words carefully.

“Why me? If you truly know as much as you claim and have experience with [Players]... You could’ve found someone else. You could’ve… done this with other people who were wronged by them. Searched for comrades.” I searched for the right words, “We were strangers. I don’t understand why you chose me.”

It was Dibo’s turn to stare.

“Because of the look on your face when your comrades, Magus Kyrian and Warrior Skaris were safe.” Dibo smiled sadly. “I could see that you cared for them, not just for your own well-being, but for theirs. That you truly treated them like comrades, not just tools to be used and thrown away.”

“As for being Strangers… I’ve shared my life story with you, Lock Slaveborn. I shared the deepest gear within me, that keeps this old body ticking. That keeps me alive. My goal, my reason for existence. I have no family. The only thing that remains is the memories of my mother and father. You know these things about me… whether we were strangers in the past or not, are we strangers still?”

Wasn’t that how Kyrian, Skaris and I started? Hadn’t we been strangers until we met in Samak City?

Regardless of what had happened in the past, Dibo and I were no longer strangers.

I sighed. “We’re not.” I answered. “We’re… we’re not strangers any longer.”

Satisfied, Dibo took another sip of tea.

Wondering if Dibo counted as a ‘friend’, I decided to ask him something that had been weighing on me.

Elves lived a long time, around 300 years if I wasn’t mistaken. And considering how Dibo looked… with the beard, the pockmarks and trembling hands, there was no way he was a young man. If Dibo had been a young man when his father died… it must’ve been at least 200 years ago, likely longer. I can’t claim to have lost something as important as my parents and even just the thought of it squeezed my heart painfully.

But could someone’s pain last that long?

“What do you want to do, if they are responsible for your father’s death? Some of them might’ve been human. They would all be dead.”

Dibo stared at his wrinkled hands.

"I don't wish for revenge, Lock Slaveborn. I am far too old and no longer in my prime. What I want is something much, much simpler."

“I simply wish to know,” Dibo whispered, more to himself than me, “What happened to my Dad.”

How Dibo looked in that moment… the tilt of his face, the stoop of his shoulders and the eyes that contained all the sadness of a boy who had lost his father… I could never forget it.

I was wrong.

300 years was too short.

Some wounds could never heal.

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