Though he scanned back and forth as he jogged, Rick found no more cashes with boost points or skills. The forest was empty, and though the faint sound of random birdsong punctuated the air all around, there was no sight of any animals, birds or otherwise.
His exaggerated inebriation had begun to wear off. He didn’t want to think about how he’d feel had he been defeated early in the game just because he couldn’t hold his liquor. He didn’t do it all the time, but drinking six beers over the course of nearly as many hours wasn’t normally something that would have made him unfit to fight.
He felt his forehead for a temperature, then shook his head at his own folly. His avatar was wholly a construction, so while his mind and balance might have been affected by the alcohol, his skin would be whatever temperature the coordinating AI thought it should be—the same way that same AI pushed muted pain signals into his consciousness whenever an opponent struck him.
The same way it had made him laugh when the Wild One punched him in his testicles.
The path broadened as he tread it. The ravine had gradually transitioned into flatter, elevated land painted with verdant green and dusty yellow foliage clumped in patches that swayed in the gentle breeze that was ever-present within the game world of Ruckus Online. The trees had first become sparser, then shorter, before giving way to low brush that petered out into the grassland. In the sky, the sun had tipped over the midday mark. Never seen a sunset in this world, bet it’s beautiful. More beautiful than the noisy megapolis of NLA, with its trashy streets and hard-edged people always looking for an angle.
The forest remained visible in the distance to his right, even as the path had curved away from it. He breathed the air, which had cooled, and the sweet scent of grass mixed in his nose with the astringent, faint ghost of pine and some other faintly vegetal smell he couldn’t place. A thought occurred to him, some faded memory of him as a kid, maybe thirteen, tromping through the woods, imagining dragons to slay and princesses to save, who for unknowable reasons always looked like whatever girl he’d had a crush on at the time.
The world of Ruckus Online was beautiful. Why not live here? As much as he loved the fight, had grown proficient in it, had grown—before his psychological mutilation in prison—competent in the measured use of violence to a purpose, still, it had been such a long time since he’d felt safe.
He’d felt safe back then, but only when he’d been alone in the woods with his imagination. He’d been so focused on winning the next fight in his own life that he’d not let in the nostalgia of the natural world depicted in Ruckus Online. Now that he had, it made him feel conflicted.
He shook it off. Kristina’s eggs. Their shared future. That’s what mattered, and he could reminisce about imaginary, half-dreamed memories when his job was done. Not before. His world was unbalanced, and it would remain off-kilter until he settled it, until he broke it or set it right.
He put aside his thoughts, placed them back in their compartment deep within himself as he approached the next opponent, this one with a player tag over her head. He slowed as she jogged from the west on a path that lay on a collision course with his own. When he got to the fork, he waited the few seconds it took for her to catch up to him.
Fanxy08 was a small person, or rather, his or her avatar was. Her dramatically reduced size became ever more apparent as she approached, until at last, he estimated she must be no taller than 5 feet, and maybe a hair shorter than that.
Her dark black hair was short, but not like the dramatically short hair of the pixie-cut wearing bot he’d defeated earlier. Her training uniform was a modern interpretation of a gi, even if it had an updated cut and was fancier. It nearly swallowed up her diminutive form, so only the tips of her fingers poked out from the sleeves of the white robe-like jacket. Accordingly, as if Rick’s gaze had made her self-conscious, she rolled them up to her elbows, fixing the roll in place with a strap and snap that had been placed within.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
That must be a custom uniform. I’ll have to ask Alex how to do that when this is over.
He raised his arms, as did she, and they nodded to one another. The player count in the corner of Rick’s visual field read “72.” Nearly a third of all players had already been eliminated.
They circled in the knee-high grass, and Rick kept his awareness open to any hidden rocks or dips in the ground’s surface as he tentatively tossed out a few jabs she batted away easily.
She spun and began a kick that was hard to track because her own body blocked his view of the elevation of her foot, so he dashed backward rather than accidentally duck into it. As soon as it had cleared the strike zone, he dashed back in, but she surprised him with how quickly she reversed her kick’s direction, nailing him with a heel to the kidney, then following up with an elbow aimed at his throat, which he blocked. However, as she’d come in close for the elbow, he grabbed her and threw her up and over his left hip. She rolled with the throw and darted back up facing him, but his own kick was already on its way toward her solar plexus.
She arrested the kick with a hard downward block, but his momentum staggered her backward. He planted his foot between hers and hip-checked her, sending her into another roll—backward this time.
Despite her size, her strikes had packed a wallop, and she fearlessly dashed back toward him.
He jumped back once, then again, then spun to the side before feigning that he’d run out of stamina, deliberately slowing his movements as if his Stamina Camel passive skill didn’t exist.
Fanxy08 smiled and began what looked like a finishing move’s opening animation, raising both hands high in what might have been a snake-style kung fu strike.
Rick crouched and reached for her legs, then upended her in one smooth sambo move, tipping her as he did, while rising to full height, carrying her up with him. Her eyes were wide as he slammed the woman down on her head at an angle, cracking her graceful neck. The light in her eyes became a dull glaze.
Victory!
He let her body drop, and it turned into boxes that opened into icons—one each of blue, yellow, and orange.
Boost Points +1
He addressed the points first, ignoring stamina now that he had the passive Stamina Camel skill. He placed the sole point into speed.
Strength: 2
Speed: 4
Stamina: 2
Active Skill Acquired!
Concentrated Strike: A sharp, snake style kung fu technique designed to paralyze, immobilize, or critically interrupt an opponent. When utilizing this strike, aim will automatically be directed toward nearest nerve bundle or theoretical energy cluster. 10 second cooldown.
Cosmetic Item Acquired!
Punk Rock Belt: This studded black belt includes a large belt buckle with a bottle opener in front and a condom holder in the back, as well as the words ‘Drink, Fight, Fuck’ displayed prominently along the outer edge of a decorative set of brass knuckles set into the buckle.
That made Rick laugh. Why not? He equipped the belt, though it took him time to thread the studded monstrosity through the belt loops of his red satin uniform pants. He tightened the belt until the buckle’s extra weight was secure, then admired it. I need one for the real world. He imagined Kristina’s face at the sight of such a preposterous accessory. She’d definitely like it.
Though there was no sound of thunder and no sight of lightning, Rick jogged down the path again, eager to put as much buffer between him and the ring-out lightning as possible. The player counter read “69.” He chuckled and squeezed the belt buckle, as if reinforcing the juvenile message it carried.
The vegetation became sparser and the soil sandier, as the terrain gradually transitioned to that of a desert. The grass changed character and color, becoming drier and yellower, and grouped in small clumps. Waxy succulents with sharp spines replaced flowering plants, and the hard dirt of the path changed into one of pebbles and dust. The further he went, the more the skies darkened.
No way. Am I first? Being first to the center meant three things. The most important thing it did was put a target on his back. He was now the one to beat. The second important detail negated that to some extent, because the center of the map was also said to contain a skill and boost point cache of significant quantity and quality. He’d never made it there first, but everything Alex had told him and everything he’d seen online had confirmed it.
The last thing it did was rapidly hasten the movement of the disqualifying ring-out lightning.
He sprinted, determined to get to the center first.