image [https://i.imgur.com/0YZuWMW.jpg]

Darkstep raised a hand but made no hostile moves when I reached for Gladius Cognitus. He watched the otters through a pair of round, tinted welder’s goggles that Gnomes wore in Heaven’s Falls, giving him a steampunk appearance.

The tinted lenses reminded me of sunglasses. As a skateboarder, I considered sunglasses unnecessary things that limited visibility and fell off and broke whenever I performed tricks. Sunglasses gave off an aloof, touristy vibe that I never liked. And I didn’t like them in Hawkhurst any more than I did in Atlantic City, and they certainly made no sense in the dim pre-dawn light.

The eyepieces weren’t the only part of his ensemble that bore no magical properties. None of his gear had stats, contrasting with every expectation. I expected him to wear at least Fabulosa’s Windshadow cloak.

Was he about to surrender himself?

Name

Darkstep

Level

11

Difficulty

Trivial (grey)

Health

190/190

Darkstep’s only magic item was a chest plate that gave him +5 stamina. Beneath it, he wore a fur parka popular in southern climes. I’d seen a similar garb in Malibar. It was a civilian wrap, comfortable and warm, suited for the chilly southern coast. Perhaps underneath it, he carried more magic items, but I saw nothing bulky.

His gaunt features looked like an ancient avatar of a human player, and his hunched posture suggested that of an older man. Unwashed hair and pale complexion gave the impression he spent much of his time indoors. His pallor didn’t radiate health, but I didn’t expect any better from someone waiting so long to finish the battle royale.

“Let’s converse and give your cooldowns a chance to reset before we start poking each other, eh? Where would you be without Slipstream? Besides, it makes for a better story, my story, in which you’ve played a significant role.”

What could he be stalling for? If an unarmed level 11 thought he stood a chance against me, then he obviously knew something I didn’t. Like the contest’s chat channel, if my opponents wanted to spill their plans, then I’d happily accommodate them.

The suggestion resonated with my tactical brain. Besides intel, talking improved my situation. A drawn-out conversation meant more reset cooldowns—and if he talked for ten minutes, I’d be able to drink potions.

Darkstep waved me toward a park bench. “You want answers.” He moved toward it, presenting his back to me without a care in the world. I didn’t move to attack as he sat down. Duchess’s words about Darkstep predicting the future put me on guard to making hasty decisions.

What teenage gamer says, “Let’s converse?” He didn’t speak like someone our age on the chat channel and in his letters, and that was long before my Banishment. But he was correct in guessing that I wanted answers. Why had he chosen me to fight Toadkiller if he was so all-powerful?

I didn’t voice the question because asking only rushed things along. The longer we spoke, the more cooldowns I’d have for fighting.

“The first thing you’ll want to know is why I needed you to kill Toadkiller.” Darkstep withdrew a parchment from his inventory.

My suspicions arose when the parchment appeared in his palm. Detect Magic’s short cooldown made it one of the few spells available in my repertoire, and I cast it. The document wasn’t magic, nor did I see runes nearby. Gladius Cognitus rested across my lap in case he pulled a fast one or something else that tipped conditions in his favor. Oddly enough, his relaxed pose gave me the gut instinct that he wasn’t about to ambush me with tricks.

Unfolding it, he read to himself through his darkened spectacles.

He brightened after skimming the parchment. “I forgot his deity’s name. Sometimes, I must rely on my notes.” He waved the dog-eared note before disappearing it into his inventory. “Toadkiller controlled a deity named Morphren—a remarkable accomplishment, and Banishment was something I couldn’t overcome.”

I grunted. I’d guessed that much. My high skills made me uniquely capable of defeating a deity with a home-field advantage. Curiosity got the better of me, and I broke my silence. “How do you know how Banishing works?”

Darkstep tilted his head to the side. “Banished players communicated via the contest chat interface how magic doesn’t work in Morphren’s realm.”

“I don’t remember reading that.”

“Quite so. In your timeline, those conversations never happened.” Darkstep withdrew a second object from his inventory.

Item

Rewinding Watch

Rarity

Rare (yellow)

Description

Level 20 charm slot item

+5 agility

The White Rabbit thanks you for your service.

Item use—Once per week, owner may reset game state to previous hour while retaining their memory.

“The Rewinding Watch was our reward for helping an NPC through a Wonderland-themed rabbit hole. It wasn’t a very good dungeon, but it yielded quite the game changer.” Darkstep hefted the watch in his hand before affixing it beneath his parka.

“That explains nothing.”

“The literary references were dead giveaways of a developer-created dungeon. A dev planted this contrived device to show off Crimson Software’s time dilation.”

“So?”

“They never tested it, or if they did, they didn’t notice that it elevated players into a deity in their own right. One rarely gets to use the word apotheosis in a sentence.” Darkstep’s upraised hand cut short my next question. “The testers missed something. Rewinding it resets everything in Miros—including the watch.”

Realization dawned on me. If the Rewinding Watch reset itself, Darkstep could use it multiple times—an infinite number of times, to the point in the game when he first acquired the item. And he could do this as many times as he wanted.

“Whoever made the watch never realized its implications. Activating it resets the item, allowing me to rewind another hour. I’ve relived countless days, resetting hours, years, and lifetimes. I’m older than you could fathom. I’ve explored every inch of Miros and its surrounding continents. Yet, with such a resourceful item, it wouldn’t work under Banishment. Your high combat skills and blessing, Holy Smoke, proved the safest way to defeat Toadkiller.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“So I was just a pawn?”

“Let’s say, a silent partner. I couldn’t risk fighting Toadkiller without first convincing you to give me Holy Smoke and let me train in the battle college.”

“Wait. We knew each other?”

“In other lifetimes, you and I have fought side by side on many occasions—though you never fully trusted me. I’ve erased these timelines, of course. None of the branches led to anyone in Hawkhurst trusting me before Toadkiller found us. Your obstinance has been a source of great frustration.”

While Darkstep wagged a finger at me, I saw that my healing spells, Restore and Rejuvenate, became available. The more he explained himself, the more spells I could cast.

“When Fab realized you protected this place because of your girlfriend, I gave up trying to win your confidence. It seems I’m not a trustworthy person.”

I snorted at the notion of Darkstep and Fabulosa knowing one another. “And it doesn’t bother you that people don’t trust you?”

“Its inconvenience bothers me. But do I take it personally? No. Self-delusions do not become gentlemen of our vintage. Besides, I wore my ruthlessness as a badge of honor. It shows what I’m willing to do to win. That’s something you never had. You never learned that the things we do in The Book of Dungeons don’t matter.”

“I learned early in life that our actions are who we are.”

Darkstep pointed at me. “And there it is—the difference between us. You keep this place as a shrine to her legacy, a monument to memory. To me, this world is just a silly computer game. I never could maintain the pretense that I cared about your precious NPCs. I could convince no one to stick their hand in the cage, so I waited for those who knew you to die off—and dwarves live a long time.

“Toadkiller always found me before we could battle out the final two. I could never wait long enough to get Forren’s blessings, so I sent you after Toad instead.

Ironically, waiting for you to return from Banishment gave me enough time to acquire the blessings, but they’re redundant at his point.”

Something in my gut told me we were never friends. If he’d fought for Hawkhurst, it was to gain advantages. I didn’t hold it against opponents for trying to get an edge in the game, but his attitude toward Iris, Yula, Greenie, and the dwarves wasn’t earning him points.

Darkstep snorted. “You don’t like me—and perhaps you never did. We’ve had this very conversation many times before. You and Toadkiller were always my best enemies. And killing you turned the NPCs against me. They always seemed to know I had something to do with your demise.”

His assertion that he’d killed me raised my alarm, and I took a step away from him before realizing it.

“Oh, don’t make a face. We’ve had a rich and complicated past. I burned down your library—the one in Belden. I tried to sway you with the cliché that it was easier to destroy than to build—or some such melodrama. I was very angry then. I’ve done terrible things—things your young brain couldn’t possibly wrap itself around.”

When Slipstream became available, I tightened my grip on my sword.

“I’ve struggled to remember who I was before Miros. I once thought winning this battle royale might win my father’s attention. I came from a well-off family—it was never about a measly quarter-million dollars. I believed I could prove to my father that I possessed a winning mindset—maybe he’d pay less attention to his board seat politics.” Darkstep looked at the ground. “I was such an angry young man then.”

It was hard to know where Darkstep wanted this confessional to go. He was still a level 11. A critical hit wouldn’t quite kill him, but if I followed up with Moonburn, the Stun would allow me to finish him. But Moonburn’s ten-minute cooldown meant I needed to draw this out.

“You sound like you don’t want to win anymore.” My question didn’t surprise him—and why would it? If what he claimed was true, we had this discussion before.

Darkstep shook his head slowly. “I’m still going to win, but not to impress or embarrass my father. I can’t even remember his face. I’m going to win because I deserve it. I’ve suffered and have caused more suffering than anyone knows. The only reason I’m explaining myself is so others will know of the effort I invested. I’ll be a boy again, and if Crimson’s reality show becomes popular, it would make that boy’s life easier if I explained my actions. I’ve done such terrible things in this game.”

“Fab once told me—”

“That everyone has daddy issues. She confessed the same to me. It’s funny how you poor boys think you’re the ones with problems. Do you know when I realized my father didn’t love me? I remembered my sixth birthday party. He spared no expense to bring a carnival to our yard—ponies, performers, musicians, fireworks, and rides. The only time he spoke to me was when he introduced me to his friends and business associates. That’s when I realized I was a prop. I still haven’t forgotten that day. His attendance at my future birthdays was rather elective.”

Before Banishment, I’d barely over a couple of years in Miros under my belt. I hadn’t quite untangled my thoughts on family. “Does that justify doing terrible things?”

Darkstep thought a while before responding. “That’s a broader question than you know. On a long enough timeline, anything is justified. A person who has done everything has nothing holding them back—and nothing to look forward to.”

I shook my head. “Life is a curse, huh? You and Sune Njal would get along—but, of course, you know that, right? Because you know and see everything.”

Darkstep nodded in agreement.

“You say you know me, right?”

“I know you more than you know yourself.”

“Then you know how I felt about losing Charitybelle. And other people suffered, too. Is all this self-pity about the player you mentioned in your letter—your lost love?”

Darkstep surprised me by shaking his head. “She called herself QueenB. We lived many lifetimes.”

I tried and failed to keep emotion out of my voice. “What’s the problem, then? Eternal bliss wasn’t enough? I’d give up my right hand to have Charitybelle back.”

“It wasn’t getting over my love for her—but the opposite. Every experience and conversation was new to Queenie, and I grew to resent the pleasure she took from things. Familiarity drove a wedge between us. Nature didn’t design our brains to live hundreds of years. Food loses taste. Music loses its allure. Love fades. Humans are finite creatures.” He stared at the ground.

“You sound like a bumper sticker. Tell me the truth—did you kill her? Was QueenB your knockout?”

Darkstep nodded. “In this lifetime. In others, I’ve killed you, Fab, and everyone but Toad.”

The gamer in me unraveled his words. “Wait—how would that work? Wouldn’t knocking players out disconnect them from the game and game gum up your timeline?”

Darkstep nodded. “I’ve pondered the issue myself. I believe the game engine caches us in a purgatory or limbo that recalls us if someone resets events. The game engine would need this functionality to maintain continuity for clients using time-stop features. There’s a 2-year hard limit to rewinding past dead players. That must be how long it takes to wake knocked-out players.”

“So your watch has limits.”

“As far as knocked-out opponents, yes. But limits won’t change this from my story to yours—in case you’re looking for loopholes. With Toad gone, I was always going to defeat you. I’ve killed you a dozen times already.”

I ignored his twisted logic. “So you killed QueenB, the player you claimed to have been in love with?”

Darkstep waved his hands as if I couldn’t possibly understand. “What is memory to you—a convenient tool—a resource? Perhaps a specter to fear? These are merely the veneer of the weight that I carry. Memory grinds pleasure out of life like fine sandpaper, not enough to take notice, but nonetheless effective.”

“So boredom justifies evil?”

“On a long enough timeline, there is no morality. Nothing keeps value. Everything is just a statistic.”

“So, you’re crazy. That’s why you burned my library?”

“In another lifetime, I killed everyone in Hawkhurst trying to force you to give me Holy Smoke—but you resisted every threat. Philosophers may dispute which of us showed fewer scruples over that, I can tell you.”

Images of him killing NPCs to sway me left a foul taste in my mouth. “There won’t be as much debate as you think.”

Darkstep shook his head. “What does it matter? I’ve left so many blood trails I’ve forgotten to which lifetime they belonged. But one thing about me hasn’t changed. After all my travels, I never hesitated to do monstrous things in order to win. This was an instinct you never possessed.”

“It surprises me you never took a relic.”

Darkstep flapped his hand. “Bah. Poison pills—and none trumped being Banished by Toadkiller. That is why I sent you. It was the safest way to reach the final two.”

Everything he said made sense. Though his Rewinding Watch made him all-powerful in Miros, he couldn’t risk Banishment, which disabled the device.

Darkstep’s ten minutes were almost over. When Moonburn became active, I could put an end to this nonsense.

Darkstep pulled out a dagger that gave him +10 strength and +3 stamina. As far as big reveals, it underwhelmed me. Surprisingly, he buffed with Heavenly Favor, raising his health pool to 310.

“You use light spells.”

My opponent shrugged. “Some. I’m a swirled ice cream cone of light and dark magic—nothing exotic, but what can you expect from someone with so few power points?”

“Why didn’t you level up while I was Banished?”

Darkstep shrugged and patted his pocket watch. “I have everything I need. Waiting 122 years for you to return has been the cherry on top of this awful game. And it is time to end my story.”

I agreed with his sentiment. As seagulls called in the distance, Moonburn’s cooldown reset in my interface.

As if he’d also counted off the ten minutes since my reconstitution with Holy Smoke, Darkstep stood from the park bench and brandished his dagger.

I backed away and readied myself, downing stat potions for agility, intelligence, stamina, strength, and willpower. I cast Heavenly Favor and Presence for good measure.

Detect Stealth and the settlement’s radar showed no clandestine operatives lurking about, ready to intercede on Darkstep’s behalf. He wouldn’t sully our showdown with lackeys—this would be a one-on-one affair.

Darkstep’s goggles reflected the pink rays of daybreak. He nodded when I raised Gladius Cognitus.

Neither of us ruined the moment with one-liners. Instead, we got down to resolving The Great RPG Contest.