Ignoring Bell’s attempt at persuasive discourse, I hurried up the stairs into my room and locked the door behind me. Though I didn’t actually need to sleep all that often, my brain still got tired and sometimes sleeping was a great form of unconscious meditation.
As I slipped through the door, turning the lock, a notification popped up.
Now entering safe zone…
Do you want to open all loot boxes?
Y/N
It’d been so long since I’d been rewarded most of them that I’d forgotten I had so many. I hadn’t been able to open a single loot box since we’d left Cali Port. Sadly, our camper didn’t qualify as a “safe zone” and the system had this odd rule that required me to be in one before I could open them.
“Let’s see what ridiculous crap you’ve cooked up for me this time,” I said to my ceiling as I mentally asserted yes and a plethora of absurd notifications popped up on my HUD. Followed by bangs, fireworks, and in the case of the gold digger’s loot box – a dollop of strawberry flavoured lube which shot out of the box directly into my face.
Thanks for that, you arsehole.
Stupid Fucking Loot Box
Awarded for surviving almost certain death by flying away in a fucking bubble. Talk about a Deus Ex Machina.
Reward: You got to live, what more do you want?
Well that was exactly what I expected it to be.
The system almost sounded a little sad that I’d survived all that business with the gnomes. Honestly though, I was kinda relieved not have received anything stupid like I often did when I was rewarded these boxes.
Conspiracy Loot Box:
You successfully got away with demolishing a skyscraper.
Reward: Title: President Bush
I had grown accustomed to the system’s unique sense of humour by now and decided to ignore it’s attempt at cracking a joke. I was much more interested in what the new title would do for me.
President Bush
This title grants you a boost in strength when fighting on foreign soil. In other words, attacks on monsters do more damage.
“MURICA, fuck yeah!” – George W. Bush
“Yeah, I don’t think he said that,” I sighed, shaking my head. I was pretty sure it was from that movie with the puppets. It was difficult to stay annoyed at the system’s idiocy though when it had just given me such a powerful reward.
More damage against monsters must have been every adventurer’s wet dream. After all, most of our jobs were supposed to be hunting down and exterminating them. I found myself grinning as I delved into the next box.
Gold Digger’s Loot Box:
You piqued the interest of a young and impressionable Duchess and as a result, you’ve been knighted. What a creep. You know she’s barely legal right, Jimmy Saville?
Reward: Nonces don’t get rewards.
I’m not even going to justify that with a response, I thought, blinking hard and slowly to try and dull the migraine I was beginning to get.
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Hooligan Loot Box:
If there is one concept that can be associated with British youth, it’s hooliganism. You exemplified this time-honoured trait by channelling you inner Grand Theft Auto MC and stealing from an old guy. This kind of behaviour deserves a fitting reward.
Reward: Golden Shell Suit.
“Oh fuck off,” I groaned, looking at the shining, tacky, golden tracksuit which I laid out in front of me. It even had my initials sewn into the side of the chest: K.A.
Focusing on the joke item, I brought up its description.
Golden Shell Suit:
A finely crafted, comfortable ensemble which harkens back to the late 90’s and early 00’s British chav culture. A fitting reward for a hooligan such as yourself. Perhaps this will make a nice change of pace from wearing your armour 24/7. It’s ok to dress comfortably from time to time.
***
Bell leaned back idly in the hot tub, a folded towel resting behind her head. It had been forever since the last time she’d had a good soak.
She had always loved baths. For some reason, sitting in a tub of hot, bubbling water just seemed to drain the stress right out of a person. After the constant fighting and adventuring Dissident Flame had participated in lately, it was a simple luxury that she desperately needed.
The evening air was brisk, a nice contrast against her heat-reddened skin. It was a quiet night, a peaceful one. The perfect reprieve before they inevitably dove back into the ridiculous lives they all lived as adventurers.
Closing her eyes, sleep approached her and she embraced it as an old friend.
“I DO NOT LIVE IN MY ARMOUR!”
Bell jumped as the yelling broke the silence, quickening her heartbeat for a moment. Kaleb’s voice penetrated the peaceful evening and, though she didn’t know what had brought on such a violent outburst from him, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
***
“There’s enough security here,” I muttered to Panda. “You’d think we were trying to break into The Pentagon.”
“Maybe he’s paranoid?” Panda shrugged, taking a quick drag from his bamboo pipe. “That would explain why you’ve been given such an odd quest.
I nodded and quickly dipped into my quest log.
Lucas, I Am Your Father
Lucas Regina has asked you to travel to the city of Castalor in order to root out an assassin who he believes is going to kill his father.
Objectives:
Go to Castalor: 1/1
Prevent the assassination: 0/1
Speak to the local Adventure Society Director (optional): 1/1
I had mulled over this quest a lot recently as we’d journeyed across the continent. Despite my best efforts, I just couldn’t fathom why a newly minted bronze ranker like myself would be needed to protect a guy who, for all intents and purposes, was practically a demigod.
What kind of assassins could even harm him? And how was I supposed to deal with professional killers of the power level needed to kill one of the highest levelled dudes on the continent?
I didn’t have an answer and the only way to get one lay beyond the military barracks that surrounded the palace.
Panda and I had been sat in a nearby coffee shop in the middle of a bazaar, surveying the area for a short while. Opposite us was a guarded entrance to, what we assumed was, a military barracks. Beyond that was our target building, and it was truly a sight to behold.
Sitting atop a domed palace, which slightly resembled the Taj Mahal, was a sail shaped skyscraper that crested the clouds themselves. Despite my immediate response being thoughts about how Lucas’ dad was clearly trying to compensate for something, it truly was an impressive sight.
The windsail-shaped building glinted in the sun, a shimmering mass of metallic darkness. A monument to the success of the city and, at the same time, a pillar of conquest and oppression.
Castalor was like that. A city of varied cultures, architecture built on top of architecture. Each new addition even more grandiose than the last. It felt like each conquering force that occupied this place felt compelled to outdo its predecessor: a generational game of penis size comparison.
Picking up my coffee, or whatever this world’s equivalent was called; it didn’t really taste all that similar, but my Speak English Damnit skill translated whatever word the locals were using to ‘coffee’, a crimson puddle caught my eye.
At first I dismissed the puddle as a leftover from the morning rain shower. It rained blood in Castalor after all. But then I remembered Panda’s explanation about the blood rain actually being an optical illusion caused by the red sand in the area, and I paused.
There was no red sand in the bazaar.
“So are we going to approach those guards then, or are we staying here all day?” Panda asked, tilting his fuzzy head in my direction.
“I suppose there’s no time like the present,” I replied, placing my cup back on the table and getting to my feet.
It felt strange to be doing this just the two of us, even if it was oddly nostalgic, but everyone else was busy. Asmodeus had been with Director Chonkers since the previous night, Rex had his new starter training, and Bell had asked for a day off. It was a little cryptic, but I wasn’t her office manager or anything so who was I to deny her?
“Halt,” the guard said as we approached. “ID please.”
Though it wasn’t what I expected, with a shrug I pulled my adventurer ID from my inventory and handed it to him. The guards here wore interesting garb, a mix of red, middle eastern style robes underneath metal plated armour. It all looked very Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom-y.
“Akabane, huh?” He said, looking me up and down as his dark eyes settled on mine. “I have orders to escort you immediately to the palace.”
“I guess we’re getting the VIP treatment,” Panda grinned.
“Hey, I need a replacement on gate five!” The guard shouted over his shoulder and within seconds an identically dressed man appeared.
“Gods Jiriyah, is that the guy?” The man said, glancing briefly at me. “Sure took his time, the boss’ new pet has been complaining for weeks about him.”
“I know,” Jiriyah said succinctly, widening his eyes warningly at his fellow guard. “Follow me please and stick close. This area is restricted to most and I wouldn’t want anyone mistaking you for a trespasser.”
“What exactly do they do to trespassers around here?” I asked, following the man.
“That’s classified.”
“Also, who’s the boss’ pet your mate mentioned?”
“Also classified, and you’d do well not to go repeating that term. You might accidentally say it to the person in question and they’re scary as shit when they go off on one.”
“Duley noted,” Panda said, exchanging a quick glance with me.
“I’m surprised your boss was expecting us,” I said casually as we strolled passed armed groups of patrolling guards. “I didn’t think our contract issuer had messaged ahead.”
“The boss knows everything,” Jiriyah said with a slight, almost imperceptible shudder. “That’s why he’s the boss.”
It was a short walk to our destination. The barracks, which wrapped around the entire palace like a courtyard, wasn’t very deep. Within a couple of minutes we had arrived at the true entrance. Glass doors, busy people going in and out, armed guards, sketchy, suited security personnel; the place was more of a fortress than High Rock… and that was an actual mountain fortress.
As we approached the doors and I attempted to get some kind of tactical grasp of our overwhelming surroundings, they slid open and a man stepped out.
“You sure took your fucking time you lazy bastard!”
“Jack?” I replied, a little taken aback.
“Long time no see,” he smiled, holding out his hand for me to take.