The humid press of air lifted as Rick left the swamp for the meadowlands. The sapping tiredness of going in and out of reCon and empty mind had left him too tired to pay much attention to the player count unless he specifically focused on it.
23…
22/21/20…
19…
He watched it, but it didn’t move again, so he went back to ignoring it. Nine more until he could feel secure.
The meadowlands were deserted, bereft of players or bots. He took an educated guess that the Branches direction was east. Direction was relatively constant in the lucid dream simulation, but only relatively. The paths from all sides began to close on one another the closer a player got to the ashlands in the center. That meant it was likely someone had come through and cleaned out the bots. Rick had been in matches where player encounters became more frequent in the meadowlands, but not when the player count thinned as much as it had during this match.
It made for a lonely road, but a welcome one. How many more fights did he have in him today before exhaustion made it impossible for him to prevail?
The sounds and smells of life were all around him. Though the sun hung lower in the sky than it had when he’d started, the sounds of insects and birds surrounded him. The smells of late summer wafted on the breeze, and a directionless haze made the light appear softer, shifting the color spectrum subtly towards oranges and reds.
Without meeting a single opponent, he passed from the meadowlands to sandier soil that gradually transitioned to ash. The sun dropped lower, and the skies became overcast, permitting less light. The formerly orange and red colors became muted.
He met his next opponent once the pall of dust had settled around him in the final area. Every step sent clouds of light dust into the air, and at first the opponent, a player named Slept3r, was visible only as a slightly darker patch that stood out from the dusty gloom.
The dark patch with a name seemed to dance about, and when Rick got closer, it became clear why. The player was already engaged in a fight with a third player, a Caucasian woman with red hair who went by the handle wRedBra. It appeared she was getting the upper hand.
Rick held back, waiting to see if she’d take Slept3r out before he got there, but also in order to focus on cultivating the yellow light. Only willpower remained, and it proved difficult to keep his concentration on his chakra. All he wanted to do was sleep. Keep it together, Rick. Eyes forward. He trudged slowly forward. The player count dropped, but it neither Slept3r nor wRedBra had fallen. It dropped again.
17…
Then again. And again.
15…
His body was a rusty truck, its transmission jammed in second gear. He limped forward at a steady pace, afraid that if he stopped, he’d never start again. How many more fights? Would the empty mind come back? Had he reached the end of what it could do for him?
He shook his head and focused on the yellow light, but now more than ever before, it flickered.
14…
Slept3r fell and wRedBra turned her back to Rick—probably to gather the boosts. Rick gathered all his strength and ignored the mounting anxiety. He envisioned one last pulse of yellow light at his solar plexus.
Then, he ran.
******************************
He’d almost gotten to her before she noticed him, but only almost. Maybe she hadn’t had time to boost her stats.
He leapt, initiating Flying Kick in midair. wRedBra smiled as she dodged, readying what looked to be a power move. Rick waited until she started the move, then launched Roamin’ Cancel, which set him back to where he’d begun the Flying Kick move.
The reset caught wRedBra off guard, which was good, because that’s when Rick’s reCon took hold. The dizziness and nausea gripped him, but he was already midair. His course had been set. He blasted Flying Kick again, and slammed hard into wRedBra’s face as she turned after her power move completed.
Victory!
13…
Three blue boxes rose and bloomed into icons. Rick’s contact with wRedBra’s face had been enough to push him into empty mind.
It wasn’t a moment too soon. He recognized another man’s silhouette in the dusty ash. The tag above the man’s head served as confirmation: ZizzZL12
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Shoulda guessed he wasn’t dead when there was no victory clarion. Z came at him and Rick ducked, allowing Z and his flying kick to sail over him. Rick blasted out Monkeyshine, throwing his fist upward, slamming the well-kempt kung fu fighter right in the testicles as he went overhead.
“Agh!” Z grabbed his balls and toppled over, crashing headfirst into the ash, writhing and moaning.
“How did you not die?” Rick asked.
Z moaned, then crawled. Rick kicked him hard, but when he tried to kick him again, Z was no longer there. Instead, the Asian man had somehow risen from the ground in a flash. He appeared next to Rick, grabbing the leg he’d extended in a kick at Z. The Asian opponent flipped Rick’s leg backward, sending him down into the dust.
“It’ll have to remain a mystery,” the kung fu fighter said.
Rick tumbled, backing away and scanning as soon as he rolled to his feet. Thoroughly covered in ash, he shook his gi when it was clear Z wasn’t pressing a further attack.
Why isn’t his hip broken anymore? He’d shattered the avatar’s hip, had felt the bones crack beneath his fist, yet here was Z, whole and quite capable. “Cheater, huh?” Rick asked.
Z answered only with a hooked left kick that Rick sidestepped before jabbing back. The meticulously groomed Asian man blocked it, then followed up with a downward, left-handed chop, following that with a knee. Rick blocked the open-handed chop, but the knee got him as he backed away, though it only grazed his abdomen.
Rick feigned stamina depletion, but Z didn’t go for it. The man stepped back and studied Rick until he jabbed. Z grabbed for Rick’s extended, jabbing arm. Rick let Z have it. When Z pulled, Rick added his own force to the pull, going with him, giving Z much more than he bargained for. Z stepped back and Rick initiated Trip-Elbow, hooking his right leg around his opponent’s as he used the momentum to knock him over, then slamming hard with the elbow, forcing Z to block high. Rick used Jammin’ to slide directly into Monkeyshine, dropping into the splits and punching the man’s balls while his guard was too high to recover, which keeled him over. However, Z then threw a frantic, disorganized knee at Rick’s face.
Rick leaned backward and away from the kick while still in his split position, then scooped his legs around Z’s so they encircled the standing man’s calves, as if he were grabbing the man’s legs with his own. Z stepped out of the leg trap and kicked down hard where Rick used to be. Rick had tumbled backward again, throwing dust into the air with his fists to hide his position.
It served as no deterrent for Z, though. The man found him as if the dust wasn’t there at all, and Rick had to hustle to block a left-right combo followed by a kick, then a vicious spinning heel. He shouldn’t be able to see me. Rick danced backward to get away and almost succeeded. Z blasted a front kick, and it cratered Rick’s guard, but didn’t get through. Rick danced backward and deployed Flying Kick. Despite the dust, Z knocked down Rick’s kick like he’d deployed a surface to air missile strike. The accuracy was uncanny. No way he’s able to do that without help. Would Ditto know?
It would have to wait. Before Z could force him to the ground, Rick initiated Roamin’ Cancel, which reset him back and out of the danger zone, but Z had been ready for that. The Asian combatant flashed forward with some sort of dash maneuver, forcing Rick to duck in dramatic fashion to avoid a hard right hook. While Z’s torso was extended over him, Rick popped up with a simple uppercut that knocked the other man up and backward. He followed with an attempted Jammin’ so he could link it to another Trip-Elbow, but the skill’s name flashed red when he tried. The cooldown hadn’t reset. Rick dashed backward, out of Z’s non-airborne striking range.
He had plenty of stamina, but if Z was using a cheat, any assumptions Rick made about what the other man was capable of went out the window.
12…
11…
Aside from the player count, another notification surprised Rick; he’d backed into one of the icons left behind from defeating wRedBra earlier.
Active Skill Acquired!
Split/Decoy: Allows the player to create a mirror image to distract an opponent at cost of half stamina at time of deployment. Total stamina available is halved until decoy is dismissed and for ten seconds afterward.
He read quickly. Time was pressing. If his reCon took over before he made it to the final ten…
Z came in, but then dropped low and swung a capoeira double leg sweep. Rick had to blast a Flying Kick over Z to get out in time. Then, when Z spun to catch Rick from behind, Rick quickly pulled Roamin’ Cancel, which Z anticipated. What Z didn’t anticipate was Rick using Jammin’ to immediately pull another Roamin’ Cancel before the entire placement reset took hold, which put him back on the other side of Z. While Z’s back was turned, Rick quickly fired off Split/Decoy, unsure exactly how it would work, then quickly side stepped.
10…
He’d made it, but he wouldn’t give up mid-fight.
While Z attacked the decoy, Rick fired up Iron Fist, aware of how strange it was he was using it twice on the same opponent in the same match.
Z turned in time to see Rick’s fist coming, but not quickly enough to move.
Crunch. Z’s skull caved in like a coconut. Multicolored building blocks oozed from the cracks in the man’s head, the same blocks as the those Rick had vomited so many times while fighting the reCon with Ditto.
Victory!
Rick didn’t look at the icons. Instead, he scanned for incoming combatants.
Empty mind began to crack and he became aware of his heart rate. He narrowed his eyes and focused all his concentration on building the yellow light.
He was so tired, he thought he might sleep right there in the game. He longed to lie in the ash and drop away, but he picked a direction and staggered.
Another combatant, a woman, noticed him. No, not yet, not yet! Rick’s balance slipped, but he picked up his pace.
The combatant broke away, distracted by another who had entered combat with her, but Rick didn’t feel safe yet.
Come on. Come on! He willed the player count to drop further. The yellow light flickered. Another combatant, this one a tall black man, pursued him. Rick slipped in the ash and dropped to one knee.
He wanted to sleep, needed to sleep. Instead, he stood and walked. In his peripheral vision, something stirred. Trouble.
Rick forced himself forward, but it took too much effort to do that while trying to maintain the yellow light. Empty mind fled him and he closed his eyes to keep his spinning vision from conflicting with his proprioception. If he fell…
9…
The figure he’d seen in his peripheral vision got closer, but he wouldn’t look at it directly, even as it undeniably became the form of a fighter in pursuit.
The fighter, a white man in boxer’s shorts and combat boots, closed the distance. Rick turned. The other fighter grinned. Time slowed as the man’s fist came forward…
10…