Chapter 19

Heading to the third floor was uneventful. Jackson and Lazarus managed to reach the bazaar safe zone without any trouble. Jackson knew that the bazaar took up most of this floor anyway, so it was the one place where he actually felt, well, safe. Lazarus looked around, some interest sparking in his eyes as his gaze ran over some of the merchants and other players walking around. Jackson headed straight to Fred’s tent. He knew he was getting close because the sound of hammering echoed throughout the area. When he approached, he saw Fred, who was hard at work, hammering on a glowing, hot piece of metal. The giant green orc did not notice him. He continued hammering away. Jackson found himself smiling; he hadn’t thought about Fred much after he had left his shop, and even though it really had not been all that long, he had missed the friendly orc. Fred had been the first player to offer him any kind of help, any kind of guidance, or empathy.

After a bit, Fred did indeed notice Jackson standing there. Grinning widely, the orc allowed the ridiculously hot piece of metal to drop to the stone ground. His smock was incredibly dirty, and his face was smudged as well. He placed metal tongs on a nearby table and stepped up to Jackson.

“Aha! Welcome back, lad! It is a joy to see you!”

He frowned a moment later.

“I see that you have clearly been in the thick of it since you left. Come, let us go inside my tent and speak of your adventures so far!”

Lazarus muttered a statement from beside Jackson:

“He certainly has a presence, doesn’t he?”

Jackson followed Fred inside, and they both sat in the same places as the first time they had met. Fred held up a finger and got up, producing two mugs of water. He sat one in front of Jackson, and Jackson took a sip. He didn’t really need water anymore; in fact, all he really needed was blood now, but it didn’t matter. Just because he didn’t need something did not mean he could not drink, eat, or even enjoy it.

“So then, lad, tell me what you have been up to! I want to hear all that has happened to you since we last parted.”

Jackson's mouth twitched, and he chewed on his inner cheek. He wasn’t sure what to tell Fred. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him; he did, absolutely; it was more that he was uncertain if the knowledge would hurt him. Which suddenly struck Jackson as ironic, and he laughed. Fred cocked his massive head.

“Did I say something funny?” He questioned.

Jackson shook his head, still chuckling a bit.

“No, sorry, Fred. Something amusing just occurred to me.”

Lazarus gave Jackson an amused, knowing smile. He had figured out the direction of Jackson's thoughts. Here Jackson was thinking about what to keep from Fred because he wanted to keep him safe, and yet he had gotten upset and frustrated with Lazarus for doing the same with him. Jackson decided to take a page out of the spirit's book.

“I have to tell you, Fred, I can only share some information. I want to be up front with you about that because I do trust you; it’s just that there are some things that have happened to me that I feel are dangerous to know.”

Fred frowned, poking at a tusk.

“I appreciate that, lad. However, maybe I could help or know something about it that you don’t. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Jackson nodded and gave him an apologetic look.

“That could be true, but for now, I think I would rather keep those bits to myself until I know more. I ask that you just extend me a little trust in this regard.”

Fred mulled it over, tucking his great head into his chest. After a few moments, he looked up.

“Very well, lad. I’ll trust you. Tell me what you can.”

Jackson smiled and launched into his tale. He left out Lazarus being a spirit but told Fred he had found a tomb, which had resulted in the reward of a class evolution. He told him about the demons and what had happened to Melanie and her crew. He told him he had killed Riselle, but left out how he had done it. Still, Jackson grimaced at the wave of guilt. He knew he wouldn’t ever be entirely over that. Fred listened to it all, though his face did twist, frown, or gape in amazement at certain parts.

Fred seemed especially concerned about the demons. When Jackson was finished telling him everything, leaving out any parts that may have revealed his vampyric nature, Fred spoke, concern thick in his voice.

“I have heard of these demons. They sound like the kind of thing you find in hell rifts. Before you ask, lad, hell rifts lead to dangerous realms filled with these creatures. Teams of players often dive into these rifts in order to claim the hell stones within them, which, when acquired and removed from the realm, shut the rift for good. Hell stones are very valuable for alchemy and enchanting, plus the Judge always rewards incredibly well for closing them. I am afraid I don’t know much more about the demons, though, lad. Players have defeated them before, but these seeds? I have never heard of them. What concerns me is that the demons are here. It must mean there is an open rift somewhere.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Fred was cut off as his tent flap violently opened.

Melanie and Azlam strode in, wrathful expressions painted on their faces.

----------------------------------------

Fred frowned, standing up.

“Hello there, welcome to my forge. I am Fr-”

Melanie and Azlam ignored him; their eyes were centered on Jackson.

“We heard you were here, murderer. You have a lot to answer for!” Melanie yelled. Her eyes were swirling furnaces of rage.

Jackson glanced at Fred, who started to piece together who they were from what Jackson had told him. He looked back at the pair and sighed.

“This is not the place for this. Fred here has nothing to do with this.”

Azlam growled,

“Except for harboring scum like you.”

Melanie merely spoke as if Jackson had said nothing at all.

“You not only killed Adaran, but now Riselle. I demand you answer for your crimes.”

Jackson frowned,

“And how would I do that, exactly?” Fred tried to cut in, opening his mouth, but Jackson caught his gaze with his and shook his head. Fred closed his mouth and crossed his arms.

Azlam chuckled darkly as Melanie said,

“You let me kill you.”

Jackson couldn’t help it. He threw his head back and laughed, though there was no joy in it.

“Yeah, that isn’t going to happen. You haven’t even heard my side of it.”

Melanie crossed her arms, scowling.

“What side is there to tell? I was there; you killed Adaran. You killed Riselle. That’s the truth; what else is needed?” Melanie challenged.

Azlam looked to speak, but Melanie held up a hand, her hazel eyes intent on Jackson. It looked like she was actually going to give him an opportunity to defend himself. The problem was what to actually say, since Jackson did, in fact, feel responsible for Adaran and Riselle’s deaths.

Jackson opened his mouth to speak, but an ear-splitting cacophony of screams filled the air. It was followed by a bone-chilling message, going off in his mind like an explosion from a bomb.

This safe zone has been corrupted! You are no longer in a safe zone!

What? How was that even possible? Jackson looked over at Lazarus, who had been leaning against a table, arms crossed, and studying Azlam and Melanie. Now, though, Jackson had no idea that a spirit could get pale, but Lazarus certainly looked as if all the color had drained from his skin. He looked over at Jackson and said a single, terrifying word.

“Demons.”

----------------------------------------

Outside, players ran in fear. Jackson heard the sounds of roars and hissing. Turning towards the sound, which is where people were running away from, his eyes widened as he saw demonic cobras, weird but abstract monsters, demonic-looking lions, rats, and goblins, all attacking any player that was near them. He saw a few chowing down on screaming players, ripping their flesh with sickening sounds. The smell of death wafted through the air.

“We have to help them,” Jackson said to the ground. Melanie, Azlam, and Fred stared wide-eyed.

“Fred, hey! Do you know anyone who could help? We need to get out of here!”

Fred shook his head and looked at Jackson.

“Right. Help. Yeah. Umm.”

“Clear your head, man! Come on!” Jackson snapped at him. That did it. Fred’s fear-filled eyes cleared.

“There’s a merchant nearby that sells magical gear. It’s possible he has a portal scroll.”

Jackson didn’t know that making portals was possible, but asking questions wouldn’t help anything right now, so he pushed the thought aside and nodded firmly.

“Let’s go see if we can find them then.” He turned to Melanie,

“We need to table our differences. We can hash them out later. Right now, these people need our help. Are you so blinded by the thought of revenge that you’re going to ignore that?”

A storm of rage erupted in her eyes, and she said, tones clipped,

“Of course we are going to help. Only one of us here is evil, Jackson. Don’t think helping here will redeem you.”

Azlam said nothing, simply scowling, though at a glance from Melanie, he growled and nodded. Jackson simply nodded at Melanie’s words. He wasn’t seeking redemption, but he had to admit that he did resent being called evil. Was he? No, he shook his head; there was no time for that kind of introspection.

“Let’s move out. Fred, if you can help, do so. Otherwise, keep an eye out on our rear. I don’t want any of these things to sneak up on us while we move. Melanie, your gaze is the sharpest; keep an eye out on our front. Azlam, you’re a close-range fighter, so do your thing and smash anything we come across here.”

Jackson pulled Azlam's axe out of his bag and tossed it to him. Azlam was not thankful; rather, a frustrated growl rumbled in his throat. Likely, Jackson had just reminded him of how he had killed him.

“Who decided to make you leader?” Azlam growled at Jackson.

Jackson shrugged,

“I decided. Unless any of you have any experience fighting demons, I suggest you listen to me for now. Or do you have anything you’d like to share with the class?” He eyed Azlam innocently.

Azlam took a step towards Jackson, his muscles tense, but Melanie laid a hand on his chest, stopping him. Her eyes shifted to Jackson.

“Go on then, leader.”

Her tone made it clear what she thought of that. Lazarus snorted,

“She certainly does have an attitude, doesn’t she? This one will stab you in the back the first chance he gets. Watch yourself, fledgling. You’ve come far, but an axe through your neck will kill you just the same.”

Jackson did not respond to Lazarus. No need to give the impression to everyone that he was speaking to voices in his head. That was the last thing he needed. Gesturing, they moved towards the screams of the dying and afraid. Why did Jackson get the feeling he was headed towards hell?