Deep underground, vines infested the cave’s tunnels. The dusty dungeon had Nero on edge and moving in measured steps as he avoided disturbing the coffins strewn about in ornate cases.
It was a maze.
The one-way path was simple at first, but as the raid of twenty-four traveled farther in, it branched out into two, then three different tunnels. The raid thinned to cover more ground, spreading to find the correct way to the boss.
Nero’s torch flared. While conjuring up a flame was simple for a hybrid class like his, mana conservation was vital. Getting surprised with one’s pants down wasn’t fun.
His mother would know. She had caught him with his pants down more than once.
Never again, Nero thought, leading the vanguard. As they went deeper into the tunnels, contact between the raid flickered on and off. It was a common feature. While chat messages could cross continents in the open world, special zones like dungeons cut off contact. Communication was possible only through close vicinity and hearing distance. In most raids they had conquered, diverging paths tended to end in the same place. Differences came from the trials faced.
Viper was behind him, someone he trusted with his life. The beefy lizardman wore unassuming, brown robes, and was within arms length of Nero. The parts of his body uncovered revealed hard scales coating his body like natural protection. His eyes pierced the dark with a yellow glow, and his pupils were black slits. Nero’s closest friend online and off was a lizard. He questioned where he went wrong in life.
The other four with them were part of the union, though they were more acquaintances than buddies to Nero. Their DPS and heals were reliable, and their ability to follow orders was perfect. But Nero disliked separating from others. He had no anxiety about it. What Nero disliked was the lack of attention on him. They were too good. No one would see how cool he was if others stole his thunder.
Viper wasn’t a glory hog. Viper had his priorities in order.
Templars were righteous zealots. Their crusade touched the entirety of Viarem and had altered its history, cleansing all impurity from the world. They might have burned a few innocents on accident with their cleansing, but to drive away the darkness! Surely, the end justified the means.
Nero was flabbergasted when others thought he was crazy. “Templars sound insane,” they told him, and uncool. Those people had no appreciation for backstory. He knew they hated only because templars were considered weak in the current meta.
Hybrid, jack-of-all-trades were unpopular. Nero was a heavily armored mage equipped with a two-hander. Aesthetically, few could deny its style. The same few rejected melee mages in groups ever since he started playing. It was half-assed no matter what, they said. Nero made it work with levels alone, being the only high leveled one in the world, but he sometimes felt he was the token templar of the union, like the black guy that died first in movies.
Nero chuckled behind his helmet. Visually he looked like the pinnacle of amazing, and was certain Mandy, his favorite druid, would have wanted a piece of it if he weren’t so young. How he wished he was three years older. A major section of the game would open for him.
He was only human, and a teenager at that.
Nero was easily distracted.
“Watch out!” Viper’s telekinesis held the templar back with an invisible force. The man rooted Nero in place, Nero’s feet refusing to lift off the ground.
A tiny mummy wrapped in old, green bandages shuffled out behind a rock. He sniffled, his head comically large for the tiny body he had. “Come play with me,” the undead boy said.
Viper released Nero who drew his broadsword and ignited the metal. It was hot enough to melt metal, but Nero paid good money to increase its heat resistance.
Was that why they brought him along? Fire was effective against the dead, and the dungeon was crawling with them.
“Hey, come back,” the mummy said. His little hand reached up. His eyes welled up. “Let’s be friends forever.” He tossed a bandage at Nero, which wrapped around his wrist. The mummy tugged on it. Hard.
Viper reacted first, holding Nero in place again. Instead of being dragged to the mummy, it instead pulled himself to Nero and latched onto his waist. It was heavier than it looked.
A barrier encased Nero. He knew Sturm had his back. A support mage specializing in shields, Nero liked the man. He was quiet and reliable. Nero felt the barrier crack under the hug’s pressure.
“Go be sad somewhere else,” Nero said through clenched teeth. He invoked the flames every templar had access to and immolated himself. The fire spread over his body and covered the mummy with it. With a cry, the monster let go and starting patting the flames off his body. Its tears drowned out the fire of retribution and left a puddle around it. “Personally, I don’t like mummies. Stick to the movies, or better yet, try another genre of games. I heard MOBAs are hiring.”
The sad mummy stamped his feet on the ground. Like a child, he wailed and pounded the shaky walls in rage. The tunnels shook, and Nero regretted his loose tongue.
“Are you twelve?” Nero whined, deactivating the flames. Smoke rose from his body. “You don’t need to get mad.”
“I don’t know about him,” Viper said, “but you are definitely fifteen.” The psychic called out to Storm, Zaphel, Ayrietta, and XxScarred4LyfexX. “Let’s go, everyone, buffs and into formation!”
Nero hated XxScarred4LyfexX. The name made him want to cut himself.
Luckily, XxScarred4LyfexX, or Scar for sanity’s sake, was good at his class. Perhaps he was a bigger troll than Nero himself, the name being a conscious decision to make others commit sudoku while still being in a top three raiding union.
Seppuku, sudoku, same thing.
Scar was a blade dancer, a pure DPS, and his dual swords sliced the mummy in a dazzling array of graceful steps. The lanky man danced around him and weaved out of every bear hug with inches to spare. Buffs aside, Scar cut away the bandages it used as a weapon and stripped it of its unlife. It was impressive soloing a mob in a raid dungeon. Their stats were thrice as powerful as normal at the minimum. Impressive, if not annoying.
A hybrid’s unpopularity stemmed from their lack of viability.
Nero believed he had a bigger dick than Scar, at least.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Well done,” Viper said, his thick tail thumping on the ground.
Scar tucked strands of hair behind his ear and said, “It was nothing.”
What a showoff, Nero thought.
The scenario repeated the deeper they went. The undead crawled out from ground, and crude gravestones made of cross shaped wood became telltale signs of impending fights. Having prepared for it, the rest of the group had their turn to shine, smiting ghouls, zombie beetles, and more. Nero fought with a sigh.
The creatures came at them like fodder. They were cut, burned, maimed, disabled, crushed — name it and the group had done it — and that brought a frown to Nero. “Isn’t this too easy?” he said, shoving his sword straight through what little flesh remained on the ghoul. Nero gave it a twist. The ghoul slid off his sword, lubricated by its own blood.
“Business as usual,” Scar said. He swayed to the right, and avoided a thrown ax. Scar relieved the skeleton of its skull, then systematically separated the remaining 205 bones. “Everything’s easy when you’re me.”
“Not everyone can be you,” Viper said. Nero snorted at Viper’s attempt at humoring the cocky blade dancer.
“That’s because there can only be one.”
“Ayrietta,” Nero said, addressing their healer. “Can you please let him die?”
The busty woman hugged her staff timidly, wedging it between her breasts. She shook her head. “Sorry, Nero, I don’t want anyone to get mad . . .” Ayrietta’s words trailed off like a faint whisper. The spectacled woman had a kind, sisterly appearance.
Nero fell to his knees dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if in pain. “Gods, why have you forsaken me. When evil is in plain sight, why are your signs telling me to not smite this douchebooger down?” His hand moved to the side of his helm. “What’s that? I should kill him?”
“Nero!” Ayrietta said, gasping.
Viper flicked her forehead. “He’s joking.”
The woman’s cheeks puffed up. Nero feared the tunnels would collapse judging by her heavy steps deeper down the tunnel. Her tantrum was worse than the mummy’s as she stormed ahead without the others. Ironically, Storm followed up first, and then the rest of the group. They turned a corner, and left Nero alone. Leaving a healer in the frontlines was foolish.
Wiping down his sword, Nero returned the blade to its former, pristine self. He inspected his work and approved of the end product. “Nothing but the best to look and be the best,” Nero said. “Quote by Nero, year 2176.” He set the massive sword behind his back and began to move when something stung him. His legs seemed like jello.
Nero felt his chest. Something was stuck. He fumbled taking off his helmet. It slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the ground, leaving a crimson trail.
His hands slick with blood, Nero’s eyes widened at the dagger through his chest. It came from behind, and went straight through his torso and even through his perfect armor. He tried twisting his neck back to see his attacker, but the assailant made a twist of his own.
The knife made a sickening sound.
Nero blacked out.
He began respawning near the dungeon’s entrance. Normally, death would take one’s body and spirit back to town, but Nero bounded himself, like all raiders, to a personal soul totem. Death was expected. They prepared for it by minimizing time loss, and maximizing efficiency. New totems were placed at the raid boss’s location. Unfortunately, Nero had died. He would go the long way from the dungeon’s entrance to return. Lasting a full twelve hours, soul totems bound their souls permanently until expired or reset. A vital tool for the pursuit of justice. Raid bosses were a plague on Viarem.
Nero felt his body materialize, leaving him not unlike a vampire resting in its coffin, arms crossed over his chest. Eyes still closed, he took a deep breath. It was easier to breathe outside dungeons. He couldn’t see regardless, which let him appreciate the cool air. Respawning took time, and vision came last.
But what killed him?
Before he could open his eyes, he felt a familiar sting enter his chest.
“What?” Nero spluttered. He coughed blood, only to choke on it. Its copper taste had him gagging.
Nero respawned.
A knife phased through his armor and sank into his heart.
Nero respawned.
A knife slit his neck ear to ear.
Nero respawned.
A knife severed his carotid artery.
Nero couldn’t call for help. Special zones forbade it, and he could not log out when combat occurs within a minute. The attacks kept him in combat. A force outside his control shackled him in his own body.
The durability of his armor hit zero. It was no better than paper.
Nero respawned.
A knife drilled into his skull.
Nero respawned.
A knife clogged his throat.
Nero respawned.
A knife entered his frontal lobe.
In panic, Nero reduced tactile senses to zero. It was already low, knowing he would die from the boss itself in some gruesome way, but he never imagined getting killed by one player repeatedly. Two, actually, if one had killed him deep inside the dungeon to begin with. And no matter how low the touch threshold was, getting knifed was the most painful thing Nero had ever experienced, and it wasn’t even at 100%.
Nero respawned.
A knife ripped through his spine.
Nero respawned.
A knife tore into his gut.
Nero respawned.
A knife plunged into his lung.
Nero’s experience and reputation sank. In complete darkness, his body was toyed with, and continued to be unless another raid member died and respawned nearby to help, or the timer on the totem dried.
It was unheard of. Raids were an exclusive community, and anyone that raided knew one another, mainly high levels and long-time players. Few were capable of killing Nero, especially with one shot in heavy armor.
Time passed quickly in Viarem.
To Nero it was eternity.
Nero respawned.
Nero respawned.
Nero respawned.
And before he knew it, he could log out.
The timer counted down.
[Nero has logged out]
Nero the Tyrannical
Level 21 Human Templar
Reputation 0