13

Oblivious Thievery

Walking past the farmhouse, Rian gazed up at the multi-story home of red bricks and black shingles. It was exceptionally tall and extravagant for a farmhouse, nothing at all like what he expected. There was even a swimming pool balcony on the third floor, attached to the house with almost impossible structural design. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I thought I was going to run into an NPC here.”

“You could have,” Corvis admitted, floating alongside him. “In any place where one of my kind lives, one of your kind can supersede them.”

That took him aback, a little. He’d thought of non-adventuring players as being something in addition to NPCs, not something that replaced them. “You mean players can take the places of NPCs?”

“Yes,” Corvis said, “and they have been doing so since the arrival of you off-worlders. Day by day, week by week, more of your kind exist in place of ours. And, well—” He grimaced, glancing over his shoulder in the direction Jensen had walked off. “Some of you are doing a terrible job at it.”

Being an NAP didn’t seem that exciting, but if it actually paid well Rian supposed it wouldn’t be too bad. It was probably cozier than an actual job. The weather was mostly pleasant, and the virtual sunlight wasn’t uncomfortable for all the hours he’d spend in it so far. “How do they get paid?” he wondered aloud. “I’ve never heard of an MMO doing something like this.”

“A portion of the tariff that each off-worlder pays to continue their existence here,” Corvis said, “is provided as a wage to the NAPs.”

Oh, right. Mirage wasn’t entirely free to play, and he’d nearly forgotten because the first year of play was free. The seven-hundred dollar upfront cost for the headset covered the first year. After that, the game turned to a modest subscription service model. Given his apparent situation, he didn’t have to worry about it for quite a while, but it was still worrying. How the hell was he going to pay for the subscription like this, from inside the game?

“On top of that,” Corvis said, “the kingdoms of your world supply their own funds for competition events between elite fighters, and some of these funds are redistributed as well.”

Kingdoms? Oh god, Rian thought with equal parts hilarity and dread. He meant corporations.

And the competition events, the PVP scene—it was something he’d entirely forgotten since getting swept up into this fiasco with Yindra. It was reassuring to hear that Mirage had a thriving PVP community, at least. He would’ve been super excited for it if he didn’t have to worry about actually dying in combat. It was disappointing, really.

Rian headed into the field of crops, following a dirt path that ran through it. Rain clouds let down a steady drizzle over a section to his right. Every so often, a chiming sound played and some of the crops grew noticeably taller. The stalks glowed with a golden aura that coalesced into coins, which then floated away elsewhere, spinning along the wind.

Walking through a crossroad, Rian spotted another player reclining in a beach chair with a massive umbrella attached. In the chair sat a level 50 Zephyr with his hands folded behind his head in relaxation, wearing the same aviators as him and nothing else but pair of swim-trunks. Like a vacuum, dozens of gold coins were levitating toward him, flying through the air and between the stalks. The coins became translucent as they came near before combining with his body.

He sat up slightly. He lifted his aviators and gazed at Rian.

For a moment, the two of them locked eyes. Then the mage gave the subtlest of smirks, made a finger-gun gesture, and slid his shades down and lay back in his chair.

Cool, cool, Rian thought nervously. We’re cool.

He was almost shaking. God, was this how it would be every time he ran into someone stronger—pure, abject fear at the thought of another player deleting him from existence on a whim?

“It seems he approves of your choice of needless eye wear,” Corvis said, gesturing to his face. The sunglasses.

Continuing onward, Rian said, “Hey, if it keeps the sun out of my eyes while I’m fighting… What the hell’s a capped player doing here, anyway?”

“I believe he is ‘making it rain,’ as you off-worlders say.”

“I don’t think that’s—” He watched Corvis flip a gold coin in the air and catch it. “Actually, never mind.” Another section of crops grew in the rain, and more gold coins went flying by. “Is he really just here to make money while idling?”

“It’s within the ability of NAPs to recruit adventurers for certain quests and tasks,” Corvis said, “whether it be for protection or even watering crops. Storm mages and farmers are quite the pair. As are fire mages and chefs. Most classes have their specialties, performing roles for others. If you’re still set on becoming a Monk, there will always be a spot for you at the Temple of Altir, though you probably won’t end up doing much aside from meditating and looking like a stoic background piece.”

“Yeah, I think I’m good.” As he approached the end of the fields, Rian reached out to one of the stalks. They were cornstalks, if he had to guess—but what was growing at their ends looked more like apples. Their skins were such a dark red that they seemed almost black.

“Daemonfruit,” Corvis said, noticing his interest. “Quite useful for off-worlders like you. Not that you could afford it.”

Rian focused on one of the fruits as he passed by.

Daemonfruit (Consumable)

Grade: A+ (Legendary)

For 5 minutes: increases attack power by 10% and attack speed by 20%, reduces max HP by 33%; the next attack performed will ignore the target’s Spirit.

“A sweet, plump fruit native to the Penumbral North. Requires heavy rain to grow.”

(This item is owned by: Farmer Jensen)

Though he didn’t feel hungry at all—and hadn’t since becoming stuck in the game—Rian found himself dearly missing food, or even the idea of food. “Have you ever had one?” he asked Corvis.

“No. Loyalists are forbidden from such things.”

“Loyalists? Like to Yindra?”

“Those who remain loyal to any of the Four and their memories. They form one side of the great war. You off-worlders form the other.”

“So that makes you like an undercover agent for our side, right?”

Slowly, Corvis said, “If that’s the way you want to see it.”

Rian grabbed one of the daemonfruits and pulled it free. It was rather heavy and spongy, like an overlarge tomato. He held it out to Corvis.

“I—” Corvis blinked, his pupils flexing. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Take it.”

“I just told you we’re forbidden from—”

“Yeah, well, if you’re helping me out,” Rian said, “that means you aren’t a Loyalist anymore, right?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true, but… Why?”

Rian tipped his hand to let the fruit fall out of his palm, and Corvis held his hand out to catch it. He gazed down at the fruit before looking up at Rian again, dumbfounded.

“Come on,” Rian said, “there’s no point in acting like we’re enemies. Even if we are being forced to work together.”

“You mean you’re not angry?” Corvis’s voice was quieter than usual. “At everything that’s happened? At everything I’ve told you?” He stopped hovering and gently landed, standing hardly to Rian’s shoulders.

“No, well…” Rian shrugged. “I am kind of pissed off at you still. About everything. But if I’m really stuck here, then there’s no reason for us to be mean to each other. We can be adults about this, can’t we? I mean, you’re at least my age, right?”

“I’m…thirty-seven in your off-worlder years.”

“Oh. Uh—”

So, Corvis was a bit more immature for his age than he’d thought. Oh well. As much as Corvis seemed to take pleasure in his misery, maybe things could turn around if he tried.

He watched the conflict play across Corvis’s expression, as if he couldn’t believe he was being nice to him. After a moment, Corvis slowly pocketed the fruit and nodded. “Thank you, Rian. I will accept this gift.”

Corvis’s trust in you has increased!

Companionship Level Up! (Lv. 0→1)

“Corvis” is now your Acquaintance!

[!] NPC Companionship: Acquaintances

Acquaintance NPCs will occasionally bring you gifts—including materials and gold.

A different level-up chime played, and Rian nearly backed away from all the text popping into view.

He started walking again, taking the time to review the notifications. “So, this companionship system. Does this mean you’ll eventually fight for me, even if you’re a non-combat NPC?”

“I think the question you should be asking is if you’ll survive long enough in this world, first.” Corvis patted his pocket. “And speaking of, I suppose I should warn you—if Jensen learns you stole something from his farm, you’ll be in quite a troublesome position.”

Rian clenched slightly, remembering there was a hired level 50 Zephyr on the farm. He straightened up, turned to Corvis and said—his voice shooting up an octave—“And that’s why you’re going to hold onto that fruit. See? It all works out.” Dusting his hands, Rian smiled and headed onward.

As he went, he considered putting the fruit back, but it was probably too late. He’d already taken ownership of the fruit the moment he picked it up, if the system worked as he thought. Putting it back probably wasn’t going to help. And with Corvis being invisible, Rian could at least deny the accusation if it happened.

Besides, what he’d done was likely a caveat toward increasing Corvis’s companionship level; he was an NPC rated at “S-rank” difficulty, he recalled. Risks like these were something he’d simply have to do.

As he approached the end of the farm, Rian was almost excited—if for the sole reason that killing some virtual creatures could take his mind off things for a while. He could already hear the faint squeaking of meina, coming closer.