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The World's Game [LitRPG]
Chapter 7 — Dale Ballin’

Chapter 7 — Dale Ballin’

“There’s no fucking way.”

“Apparently there is!”

Dale wheeled forward the AT-2000 so I could get a better look. My AT-2000.

“But Mom, I thought you weren’t getting back in the Pod for a while. What gives?”

“I didn’t. Didn’t even go close to the challenge.”

That made things confusing. The only way I could’ve won is if the leader and whoever else might’ve been ahead of me had been disqualified or didn’t want the prize. The chance of that happening was pretty much zero, so I was stumped.

“How is it here? The employee said that someone got eighty-something kills. I was close, but not that close.”

Mom gave a knowing smile and pointed at the pudgy man holding the box.

“Dale,” she said.

“Dale?”

“Dale.”

“Did you steal it? Threaten to eat the employees?”

I regretted the joke as soon as I said it, because for one, he was handing me a Pod worth ten-thousand krad, but secondly, the only way it could be here was if Dale won the challenge.

“I may have been the eighty-something kills guy,” he confirmed. “We got to see the leaderboard though, and you guys did really well. It listed you as fourth, but you gotta understand, second and third were some nasty pieces of work. You might not even need a Fields Pass if some big dogs like that notice you — an invitation to a fancy guild is far more valuable.”

“But how…” I couldn’t find the words. “Thank you, Dale. I…I genuinely had no idea.”

“Most don’t, these days. That’s the cool side of B&B. You wear so much armour and gear that if you decide to drop out some day, people struggle to notice you. Especially if you grow a beer gut like mine.”

He patted his belly like a seal at the zoo. For once, I thought it kind of suited him.

“But how did you survive so long against the dragon? I lasted about fifteen seconds once it showed up.”

“Tricks of the trade,” he said, laughing. “Ask me in a week and I’ll be able to tell you more, but almost all monsters have a weakness. Remember that, and you’ll surprise yourself.”

I knew nothing about Dale’s past. If someone had told me he’d been a capable B&B player, I would’ve laughed them out of the room.

“Unbelievable. I really got nothing else, but thank you, man.”

“My pleasure.”

A hug felt like too much, so I stood up and shook his hand, trying to somehow indicate my gratitude by the firmness of my grip. It was less of a ‘thank you’ handshake, and more of a ‘Maybe you’re alright after all.’

I’m sure he got the memo.

The Pod was a bitch to get upstairs, but between the three of us, we managed. Mom and Dale lifted the bottom then I guided the top-half, doing my best to look after my still-youthful spine. With the AT-2000 available, my back would be breathing a sigh of relief.

Mom’s Pod was pushed into the corner. It wasn’t defunct, and was definitely worth fixing, but the excitement of setting up the AT-2000 meant it was out with the old and in with the new.

The set-up was easy — 99% of the world’s inhabitants used a Pod at some point in their lives, and not all of them were tech-geniuses. The whole package was engineered to be as close to ‘Plug & Play’ as humanly possible. If you had a consistent power source, or a damn big battery, you were good to go.

Having a top-of-the-range Pod sitting in our house was absurd. Its clean, sleek lines and ergonomic design were offset by our stained, peeling walls that begged for a lick of paint. On top of that, a sheet of cardboard and plastic covered the hole where the intruder came through. Since then, we’d triple checked that the ladder was locked in the shed, and ensured no miscreant could climb up using any other means.

My investigative work was temporarily forgotten by the rush of it all, but there eventually came a point where I could admire the Pod no longer. I still wouldn’t be able to use it for a week, but I’d be in there polishing it every morning so not a single speck of dust could settle.

Ollie Matanor, owner of Todd & Podd’s newest brainchild.

The world must’ve gone mad.

I went downstairs in a haze, pulled by the smell of fajitas. Dale was frisbeeing tortillas onto plates while Mom mixed spices and fried bell peppers. It was calming to see them acting so normal when it felt like my life had been flipped upside down then right side up about three times in as many days.

“Have you told your friends yet?” Mom asked, turning around to dice toppings.

“I haven’t had the time. I’ve been up there pinching myself.”

Dale grinned and stayed silent. I had to know more about his B&B prowess, but he was tight-lipped so far.

“So, what’s the laptop out for? Decided to finally start your schoolwork now that you’ve graduated?”

Oops. I hadn’t planned on breaching that topic until I had damning evidence. My witch-hunt — or investigation, depending whose side you were on — didn’t paint a picture of a well-adjusted individual. It leaned a bit more towards ‘unable to move on.’

“I was, uh, keeping track of the Olympics.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“How so?”

“Err, looking at events with underdog winners…”

Dale handed me a plate. “Getting into gambling, eh?”

Mom put down her knife and stared at me quizzically. She patted her hands on her apron then pointed at my laptop.

“Care to show me your progress?”

Ah shit. This was where schoolwork got me. First time I try to make my old teachers proud, and I’m knocked out of the nest before I can fly. I trudged to the couch and retrieved the red-hot evidence, placing it on the counter in front of Mom. She took one look at the spreadsheet and her face fell.

“Ollie…”

“It’s worth looking into!”

“It’s a poisonous waste of time that’ll make you miserable and vindictive.”

Mom didn’t lecture me unless she was absolutely serious. The peppers and onion were at risk of charring, so I tried to defuse the situation.

“Okay, okay. I’ll delete the file. But I think it’s real, Ma! Jori’s guild members outperformed anything within the bounds of probability. Their thirty-seco—

“OLLIE!”

I froze, almost dropping my laptop.

“Please. I’m sorry for yelling, but please. Let it go.”

A retort sat right on the edge of my lips, begging to be spat out. I took a breath and reigned it in.

“Fine.”

The laptop went back upstairs and was volleyed into my old schoolbag.

The file remained.

###

The following week dragged on for eons. I couldn’t immerse, I couldn’t watch the Olympics because of the sour taste it left in my mouth, and the weather was hell-bent on keeping me indoors. We either had sweltering heat or gushes of rain, like the weather gods were searing us in their cosmic frypan then basting the world in lashings of butter.

Joey, Annette and Duri all heard the news about my AT-2000-shaped windfall, though it had to be over the Message app on our Yurts. It went something like this:

Me: [Dale won AT-2000, lol.]

A & D: [HOLY SHIZNIT GIVE IT HERE I WANT IT]

I’ll spare you the exact details as it involved lots of photos and lengthy descriptions of the minutest parts of the Pod.

Fun for me, not for you.

Strangely enough, I spent a lot of time cooking. Mom put this picture in my mind that each meal I created was like forging and enchanting a new weapon or piece of armour, and from there I just kind of took off. I served up souffle omelettes in abundance, and finally learned how to poach an egg.

Small steps, but important ones.

On my final afternoon of freedom, the poor conditions relented. The world was giving us one last opportunity to revel in the glory of the outdoors before shuttering us in our Pods for at least the next year. Hooray.

[Picnic at Patterson’s Park?]

[Cute.]

[Let’s!]

Contacting Joey had become a real struggle since the Major Pods incident. Duri managed to squeeze some gossip from Annette who’d been at Joey’s to check in. I got the rundown while we sat at the park eating salmon and avocado sandwiches, prepared by moi.

“Was it, like, scary being there?” Duri asked.

“Umm, not scary, but super awkward. His dad caught wind of the whole ‘eight-minions’ thing and didn’t like it one bit. He asked me how I went, and I made something up about getting caught in the side really early. Pretty sure he’s putting Joey through some kind of training camp.”

“Is that allowed?” I asked. “Like, Dale gave me a super vague tip the other day, and that night I dreamt about a government official abducting me and sending Dale to the can.”

“Not sure, that stuff is all super situational. Plus, we’re less than twelve hours away from it being above board, so I don’t think anyone’s looking too hard at us.”

“Fair.”

We devoured our lunch and sat in the sun a while longer. The heat had relented, and a cool breeze ambled through the park as though the weather was apologizing for its poor behaviour recently.

“You guys got any plans for your classes?” I asked.

Choosing your class was a big deal, because changing it later required a total character restart. You could preserve items and armour and all that physical stuff, but your level would go down the slide, flip off the edge, and plummet down to zero.

“Something fast,” Annette said. “I really enjoyed darting in, ruining something’s day, then hopping back out like I’d never been there.”

Duri umm’d and ahh’d for a bit. “Yeahhhh, I get that, but I’m leaning towards something more tanky, I think.”

I could easily see Duri being a tank. He grew up reading ‘The Rabbit and the Tortoise’ about a hundred thousand times, and it had rubbed off on him. If we got a two-week assignment in school, he’d do precisely 10% of it each weekday. On the final day, when everyone was rushing around like headless chickens, he’d sit down, organise his things, and wonder what the fuss was all about.

Very ‘tanky’ vibes.

“You’ll conflict with Joey if you choose [Paladin]. His dad probably instilled that one in him since birth.”

“Joey will have to suck it up.”

Annette frowned and looked down her nose at us.

“Play nice, you two. I’m sure there’s more than enough room for two tanks in whichever monolith guild we get into.”

That was another spiky topic which I didn’t have the energy to worry about. The biggest and best guilds only recruited from the herd of Elthen Fields players, unless someone in one of the other beginner zones basically took the B&B world in their hands and shook it like a snow-globe. Talented players outside the Fields would be left behind because guilds were as much about presentation as they are about power.

What’s the use in recruiting a promising pauper when you can invite little Jimmy Jr whose parents are Top Ten Thousand players?

I was beyond eager to check the global leaderboards and look for both my mother and Dale. Until Mom had almost shown-up the Wonder Kid, I hadn’t realised she was something notable in the B&B world. Agility didn’t always help with your rankings, but it had to count for something.

Dale was a different story. I half-expected to see him in Heaven’s Hundred, but since he didn’t immerse anymore, he’d probably dropped down.

“Annette, won’t you join your parent’s guild? They’re pretty well situated at, what was the name?”

“Pin & Win, yeah. It sounds cocky, but I think they’re a little small for me, ya know? I obviously won’t know until we meet the millions of other graduates, but I’d like to prove my mettle a bit and see if I can make a name for myself.”

“That’s very lofty of you. I like it.”

“Yeah! And if anyone catches onto your score from the challenge, you’ll be snapped up in no time.”

We went on for a while before deciding that we should take a break from B&B chit-chat. If it all went right, we’d be discussing The World’s Game a lot in the future.

If it all went right.

To say I slept terribly that night would be a compliment to the word ‘terrible.’ My Yurt stayed alight until well past midnight with the constant pinging of nervous group chats and well-wishes. I endured it for a while, thinking that surely it was finished, but eventually I had to reach down to where it was charging and flip it over.

When that didn’t suffice, I crawled out of bed, opened my cupboard, and flung the stupid device into its mothbally depths.

My eyelids remained heavy, but I couldn’t stop rolling and kicking and getting stuck on a random topic after declaring to my brain to stop thinking, now. Restless legs plagued me, neither side of the pillow was cold, and yeah, I was spiralling.

Sometime just before sunup, I slept.

###

Once I awoke, no amount of sleep deprivation could slow me down.

Out of bed, clothes on, downstairs.

Eggs, bacon, hash browns, glass of milk.

Brush teeth, deodorise, search for my Yurt.

Ready.

Ready for Blade & Battle.