“We’ve got your six,” Dirk said gruffly.

“Thanks,” acknowledged Matt, then turned to engage with Sister Chloe. “I’m here for your quest?”

Then, the familiar blur descended. The abbey ahead became a wall of soft white tinged with lime green from the gravemist at its base.

“Excellent, specialist.” The nun’s voice was distant and muted from within her bubble. “I assume you’re seeking entry into our abbey?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, specialist, that’s a little tricky.” Her brow furrowed, face framed by her habit. “The magical protection is just barely being maintained. It would drain too much power, were I to open a gateway in its current state.”

“What do you need us to do?” Matt droned, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He knew where this was going.

“There is a way if we can boost the power. There is a talisman, a relic of great magics. It used to be a source for our abbey—until it was stolen by the Cult of Crows.”

“So, you need me to get it back?” Matt confirmed.

“Yes, specialist. Retrieve the talisman. Then I may form the gateway. The cult is rumored to reside in the desert to the north.” She started to point but then hesitated at the interior edge of her bubble. She smiled, showing the wrinkles around her eyes. Then the blur faded.

“Got it,” Matt told his group.

“Me and my beaver are ready!” cheered Val.

Dirk turned to face the pink-haired woman, face covered by his black hood.

“What?” Val said. “Haven’t you seen a beaver that really likes wood?”

Dirk continued his stare.

“Beavers and wood belong together!”

“Erwu!” said the beaver through the stick in his mouth.

“Let’s roll,” Dirk said darkly.

###

The group crunched through the dead grass with weapons out, keeping watch for gankers. Matt felt safer with the larger party—powerful even. Dirk and Sofia were no-nonsense lethal. Matt was starting to wonder if Dirk had military training. The hood-man made hand signals when he spotted ‘mobs,’ as he called them.

“This means watch, listen, quiet,” Dirk debriefed after they owned two zombie deer. “When I do this, you move.” He swept low and forward with his hand. “Move faster.” He pumped his arm like 10-year-old Matt, on a school trip, trying to get truckers to honk.

The deer had been bloody and swarming with monarch butterflies, practically falling apart. It had looked like the bugs were feeding on them. Matt would have been worried about nightmares, where his own flesh got devoured, but in this place, he didn’t dream. This place was the dream—an endless digital nightmare.

“Let’s go.” Dirk made an underhand sweep. Then he added the up and down ‘faster.’

Fallyn shot Matt a concerned glance but strode briskly all the same. Her green diadem shifted on her forehead, reflecting the diffuse sunlight.

Kurtis hurried at Matt’s side. “Hey, man,” he whispered.

Matt gave him a nod. He noticed that Mr. Beaver had abandoned his branch. The thing now scampered through the bright green mist with surprising speed. Val seemed to be keeping her distance from Dirk.

“They really can be quite useful,” Sofia whispered from behind.

Dirk turned, holding a finger to the fabric on his face where his mouth should be.

Matt glanced back at the black-robed wizard. She made a fist with her right hand, staff held in the other.

“What about Ferdinand?” Val whispered.

Kurtis shrugged.

“Toby?” she tried.

Dirk held up an open palm. He hadn’t explained this one, but he didn’t need to. Matt stopped. So did the others. Matt flexed his fingers around his swords.

A group of monarch-covered deer were on the ground ahead. Their faces were bloody. Were they dead? No, Matt thought. The butterflies had crumbled to ash when they’d killed the earlier pair. It was hard to see with the way they were sitting, but it looked like there were four or five.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Dirk motioned at Matt.

Raising both eyebrows at Kurtis, Matt joined Dirk in the front. Then Dirk motioned forward and was engulfed by shadow. Matt cast Rapid Regeneration and, glowing with blue sparks, dashed in.

Crystals spiked up through the gravemist, erupting around two deer. Matt’s heads-up display became visible. The Level 13 creatures shook their heads as they stood. An eyeball dangled down one of their bloody faces, rolling with the movement. The zombie deer ambled towards the disturbance.

Dirk beat Matt to the mobs, materializing from a cloud of darkness. Crystals shot up around a third rotting quadruped.

Matt activated Shadow Flurry. The dark blades gathered as he pivoted to follow a deer leaping past him. This one was missing an ear.

“Sick ‘em beaver!” Val yelled.

The furry pet leaped and body-checked the one-eared deer in mid-air, sloughing a flight of wings from its side. The zombie beast fell hard to the ground, displacing neon green. Then the gravemist ebbed back to fill the void.

The deer stumbled as it staggered back to its feet. White fire began to drip down its sides. A dark arrow sprouted between its eyes. Matt ran up and Blood Slashed a glowing X. Pale purple backlit his faint afterimage. The deer’s legs crumpled; it died. Wings flapped and then disintegrated.

The black shards faded around Matt in their final rotation. He turned on the two loose deer nipping at his friends. They were clustered ten feet away. He really needed that taunt.

He rushed into melee and Blood Slashed the pair. Fallyn’s health was at half, she was taking the brunt of the damage and her staff was building a glow. Her hair whipped up around her face, blown back by the growing power. Beside her, Sofia was doing the same.

“Back up!” Val called.

A shadowy bear trap snapped around the deer on Matt’s left. His friends stepped back in measured strides, the loose deer nimbly following. A hundred wings fanned slowly on the creature’s blood-caked side.

“Scratch attack!” yelled Val.

The beaver stood beside the deer and then clawed it like a cat unraveling toilet paper. “Eeee!” it squeaked, in what sounded like delight.

Holy shit, Matt thought. Then he Blood Slashed parallel strikes.

The wizards’ staffs unloaded twin conduits of fire and lightning. The deer in front of them dropped, and then they angled the beams to the one in Val’s trap. It had the dangling eye. Matt pivoted, reaching the animal as the staffs’ power stopped. Then the creature combusted with white fire. Matt Blood Slashed while his friends rained Arcane Bolts and dark throbbing arrows. The enemy toppled.

They went to work on the next deer. With three left, all the enemies were trapped. The group worked on the closest—except Dirk. Matt spotted him attacking the farthest two.

Matt Blood Slashed.

The deer bucked.

It was trapped by the crystals, but still hit Matt’s trashcan lid hard, winding him. His health had shot down almost 15%.

Guess you’re not ignoring me anymore.

Matt renewed Rapid Regeneration. Blue beads wove trails across his skin. Then he tried his new heal. It didn’t work. The deer sprayed a cone of acid, hitting Matt and falling short of the group.

“Agh.” Matt flicked it from his hands. “Fuck,” he whispered. His neck and exposed biceps were burned raw—and continued to burn. His health had dropped to 70% and kept falling. “Damn thing.” Matt Blood slashed. “Die already!” he yelled.

“Die already!” echoed Val.

Mr. Beaver looked up at her with clasped hands.

“Not you,” she loud-whispered. “Go attack it.”

The beaver scurried to the deer in the crystals and then stood up on its hind legs. It hesitantly reached out one tiny clawed hand in a slow stroking motion. The thing was petting the undead deer. It looked back at Val.

“Attack it!” she yelled.

Matt Blood slashed, sending monarchs skittering.

The beaver raised a second hand and scratched in slow motion as a conduit of fire and lightning connected with the creature. It dropped.

“Eeee!” squeaked the beaver, jumping back in surprise.

“Good job, little buddy,” cooed Val.

The remaining deer was almost dead. Dirk had finished with one and was rapidly striking the other with his daggers. They fuzzed with dark purple light. Ranged attacks rained on the rotting animal, disturbing the fluttering wings. Matt raised his swords to Blood Slash—the zombie deer’s knees buckled and it fell.

‘12,800 XP’ floated up and faded.

“See ya, Bambi,” Dirk said.

“Hee?” said the beaver. Then he froze.

What now?

The beaver started to glow. Pale white light surrounded the furry animal. And when it dimmed, the beaver thumped its flat tail.

Val ran over, knelt, and hugged her rolly pet. “Who’s the bestest beaver!”

The thing looked like it wanted to escape. It expelled air loudly through its nose. Then Val rocked back on her heels and stroked the beaver’s head. It seemed to like that, eyes drifting closed.

###

About an hour later, they exited the gravemist and found non-zombie deer. The butterflies flitted happily around the animals, and the cervids didn’t aggro on their own. The group opted for speed and did not engage the neutral creatures.

The terrain dried out, but the plants were alive. Hard-packed earth was covered in patchy grass and low-lying shrubs. The sun became a hazy disc behind the clouds.

Mr. Beaver dragged a small bush in his mouth, roots clotted heavily with gray dirt. Val beamed at the giant rodent’s side.

Kurtis’ ears flared intermittently. Each time they did, Matt watched with concern. As they got closer to the two-hour mark, the plant life got more sparse. Kurtis’ ears flared again.

“I think I hear something,” the cat-man said.

Dirk studied Kurtis for a moment. “Keep going.”

Fallyn and Matt shared a glance.

Kurtis swished his tail forward and held it in his hand.

A few minutes later, Matt’s ears picked up on a rumble. Initially low and distant, it became unmistakable; an engine rev warned of something over the hill. Then it silenced.

Dirk motioned, ‘Stop.’ Then he disappeared into a cloud of shadow.

The group stayed silent. They waited. And waited. Kurtis paced.

Then Dirk’s head rose over the hill. He waved and yelled, “All clear!”

The engine revved again as Matt hiked to the top of the hill, passing small scraggly bushes. Then it sputtered and popped, settling into a purr.

“Come on down,” Dirk greeted at the top of the hill. Then he jogged the steep slope himself, sliding on loose rocks and dirt.

Matt tried to traverse it on an angle, but the incline gave way and he skidded, tossing up a cloud of dust.

A stout man with a white cowboy hat and a huge red mustache watched Matt slide. Arms crossed, the man leaned against a shining silver and black motorcycle.