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The World's Game [LitRPG]
Chapter 73 — One of Many

Chapter 73 — One of Many

“Dale, that is going to make me look like a tool. Claire and I were completely responsible for replacing their old King, and now you want me to fuck around with that?”

“Potentially.”

I groaned and started pacing around the living room. With my newly prescribed regimen, I was in no state to topple yet another monarchy. I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to — the peaceful life of Bill’s Yard beckoned to me. Nothing would’ve pleased me more than returning to my courier job and darting around the provinces with a bakery’s worth of loaves in my inventory and enough of Pilaf’s bouquets to rejuvenate the world’s population of bees.

Unfortunately, that plan had a few holes in it. The most limiting one was time, of course. Unless I made stupendous amounts of krad in the next ten and a bit months, I’d find myself in the main game-world with no useful skills except for a decent drop of Agility and a strange aptitude for baking and flower arrangement.

I may as well have picked a class like [Swashbuckler] after all.

“Is there anything else I can do? I want to disappear from the limelight — I still don’t understand why that isn’t an option. They’ve already written their article about me, so how many other ways can they write same the same thing?”

“You’d be surprised. They’ll start with one or two articles about how you refused to respond, then they’ll release something about some new dirt they make up, then it goes on and on until everyone’s fighting to write the most invasive-without-being-illegal ‘Where Are They Now?’ article. You don’t want to get to that stage — the fact that no one cares enough to know where you ended up suddenly makes everyone want to know.”

“Like child actors that go rogue. I getcha. Shit.”

I rummaged around in the kitchen for something to eat. Chewing was a good way to occupy my mind, rather than going into full Doomsday mode. I wondered how Claire would react if I showed up to do the Gonar quest and suddenly went, ‘Hey, how about we…I dunno, undo all our hard work by carving up the whole nation? It will help my image, and also yours to a smaller extent. Hopefully the Stakes are cool with it.’

With any luck, she might’ve read the article and come to a similar conclusion already. Or better yet, there was already a plan in motion that required no input of mine.

Don’t bet on miracles, Ollie.

“How about I accept an offer from a guild of Harkon die-hards? Or I could start a guild with the gang and we could declare our allegiance before next year even starts! They’d side with me, I think. Unless Harkon players engage in anything particularly horrible?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘horrible.’ What are your thoughts on torturous monster experiments to see how their loot can be farmed in the most efficient ways?”

“Uhhhh…Are there any promising results?”

“Nope. I’m starting to think they might just enjoy doing it.”

My willpower took a hit from the thought of aligning myself with those kind of people, but it was better than the Asterians. And as Duri would remind me — at the end of the day, they’re all just NPCS.

“So that’s an option, you think?”

“A tentative one. It’s a big decision, Ollie. Not one that you should be forced into. Once you align yourself with any country or continent or even a tiny little village, leaving it will make people from all sides less likely to trust you. There’s a certain amount of surly respect given to people just for sticking to their guns, even when things get rough.”

To me, that sounded like a convenient way to dodge responsibility. Or at least a recipe for a warped sense of right and wrong. His mentioning of a tiny little village was appetising, though. It would be like playing a boots-on-the-ground city-building game. I could spend my B&B career trying to expand the place into a bustling metropolis, or if my desires were less grand, a cosy holiday hotspot.

“I think I’m just going to sleep it off. Maybe my brain will put things in order while I’m conked out, and I’ll wake up with a miraculous idea.”

It was late enough that, even if I weren’t in recovery mode, I would’ve been considering heading to bed.

I brushed my teeth and made a mental note to deal with the laundry piled at the end of my bed, then lay down. Before I’d even gotten comfortable, I was out.

*******

No miracles were performed overnight. Even if I’d dreamt up a solid plan, it was completely forgotten by the time I came to my senses.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

In fact, my first real thought was whether Claire had managed to find permanent lodgings for Penny. I thought the tavern owners could be a good substitute, however I had some concerns about their NPC behaviours. If they were similar to some of the less complex NPCs, their personality and patterns might not be versatile enough to withstand a whole new responsibility being added to their lives. And Penny was a lot to add.

I decided I’d check the letterbox and then have a slow start to the day. Claire wouldn’t be awake for a little while, so I’d hop on for my one hour around noon. All I’d have time for would be a quick check-in and the first leg of my journey to catch up with wherever Claire had set down roots for the time being. She’d mentioned something about Brasstown, but my guess was that she would have moved on from there by now.

Without the actual quest for Great King Gonar’s armour, she’d have no indication that she had arrived in the right spot, even if she walked straight past the building where it was being kept. I’d have to whiz around and hope that some kind of perfectly timed event unfurled in front of me. That was usually how it worked.

I went outside to find the letterbox empty. No surprise there. Car-guy had made no promises on when the evidence would arrive, just that it would. I was surprised to find myself disappointed — I’d not been lying when I told him that chasing down the bad guy didn’t consume me anymore. It was a short-lived obsession, dulled down by how vehemently Mom had told me to drop it.

But it was good timing on his part. If I’d been busy with something — anything — in B&B, I would’ve left him on the backburner, merely piling up the various things he would send until a break in the chaos presented itself.

And that was assuming that I didn’t intend to use said break as a holiday.

I spent a couple hours reading the B&B News and poking around on the leaderboards to check in on players from days gone by. Before noon had the opportunity to come and go, my nervous energy propelled me up the stairs and into the Pod. If Claire wasn’t on yet, then I’d just leave her a message and start running.

--Immersing, please don’t disconnect--

First things first. The orb was gone, but the ravine remained. Whatever smoky substance and blackened ooze it had voided from itself previously had also dissipated or dried up, leaving a gorge that could be reasonably considered natural-looking enough.

I peered over the edge and was astonished to be able to see the bottom. A golden sand lined the ground maybe eighty feet below, interspersed with diamond shaped boulders and other craggy rock formations. The occasional sign of life shuffled among the sand — a scorpion or some other small creature taking advantage of the new life breathed into this part of the world. The sand looked warm.

Before I got to my daily exercise, I messaged Claire.

[Lemme know when you’re on. I’m going to run in the direction of Brasstown, and hopefully meet you somewhere nearby? Assuming you haven’t ran all the way to the end of the world and found Gonar himself. How’s Penny?]

Seeing the town names on the map was a huge help. Brasstown lay more west than north-west, and seemed to be nestled between two valleys that meandered down into a large lake called The Perseltom. If I’d run in the direction that I’d originally had in mind, I would’ve been pushed east by one of the valleys and forced to do a lot of backtracking.

I set off. Without my equipment burdening my movements, I felt like I’d just set out on a run in the real world, except that my strides were suddenly like long jumps, my form was magically perfect, and I ran like a squirrel on hot pavement. The world rushed by beneath me, leaving behind the ravine and all the worries that came with it.

No headache. Feeling great. Fifty-five minutes to make some headway on this thing.

Almost half an hour later, nothing had changed. Not a hint of lethargy, no sudden encumberments or sprained ankles. A message from Claire popped into my vision.

[Huzzah! Yeah, Brasstown works fine. After you get there, run north until you find military encampments. I’ve commandeered a roomy tent on the south-eastern side. Penny is settled with tavern people.]

That was good. Everything was coming together, except that I wouldn’t make it to Brasstown even if I went pedal to the metal and used my [Dash] the millisecond it came off cooldown. I couldn’t take advantage of [Warrior’s Wrath] either, since there was nothing to kill. Unless I had a constant source of enemies, it was useless.

[Won’t make it. Twenty mins left on my one hour. What do?]

[Ergh. Such a liability. I’ll pick up some random tiny quests or just go roaming. Surgery is booked in for two weeks, by the way. Paid in full by yours truly]

I’d completely forgotten that she had plans for the money outside B&B. I felt terrible, especially considering how hard it was for her to come to the decision to tell me.

[Oh shoot! So soon! My plane tickets are going to be expensive]

[HA. Nononono, don’t come. If you’re only going to get one or two hours a day, you can’t afford days off. And I’ll be out of action for a few days before the surgery and a few weeks afterwards anyway. You stay there and work on things solo.]

I was only half-joking about flying there. If she’d sent me the address and encouraged my attendance, I would’ve disconnected and booked the tickets right away. Unfortunately, she was right about maximising time. I’d gone from twelve-hour days in the Pod to a sixth of that, at max.

I responded with a single sad face.

In the end, my Endurance fell off a bit quicker than I expected. I still had about twenty minutes of full-on sprinting to do if I wanted to get to Brasstown, which would have to happen later in the afternoon or tomorrow if something triggered another headache.

With twenty-three stat points remaining, I had the option to extend my run a little longer, but I didn’t think it was worth it. Maybe a few extra at the start of the journey would have gotten me to Claire’s warily-acquired tent, but it wasn’t necessary. I had to get used to things taking time, and this was a good, low-risk first exposure to that fact.

And even though my head felt perfectly fine and dandy, I saw the timer I’d set in the corner of my vision reach zero, and I was out of there in a flash.

--Disconnecting, please wait--

I was out in time for lunch. It didn’t feel right. Having three meals all within reasonable timeframes was a school thing, not a real-life thing. I felt like an impostor, like I’d entered a new phase of life years earlier than I was supposed to.

It was relaxing. Chicken toasties taste even better when you’ve been forced into retirement.