Chapter 12 - Jackson

It wasn’t pain that registered first, but a razor-edged numbness. What was worse was the alien sense of wrongness that being stabbed gave. It was the real deal “this is what it feels like to be stabbed” experience. Had the developers completely lost it? I couldn’t wrap my mind around the truth that this was just a game. I wanted nothing more than for that thing to be gone and for my body to be my own again. It was no longer a mystery as to why people would instinctively remove impaling objects, even when it could cost them their lives. The body was jealously sovereign of its own. Oh god. It must be pretty bad. I’m getting poetic.

Surprise Attack! Critical Hit! Victor Fury hits you for 67 damage! (Knife) You are bleeding! (You will receive 4 points of damage every second for 6 seconds)

I really needed to do something about the combat logs. They were very distracting. I glanced down at the knife fisted into my stomach. On second thought, maybe I could use the distraction right now.

“Did you really think I’d be stupid enough to leave my pain sensors high enough to keep me down in a fight, you arrogant piece of trash?” Spit flew into my face as Victor growled the words through gritted teeth.

The world washed away in light and sound.

I blinked my eyes open through the sand and grit. The swirling dust parted to reveal what couldn’t be anything other than a god. I mean, he built a freaking throne with a cosmic-scale bug zapper. I couldn’t make out his words through the large bruise I had become, as I made my way to my feet. I did make out one phrase though. It was just before my world ended in dazzling shards of pain.

“Receive the blessing of Zion!” The figure raised a clench fist toward me. Shit. Not agai—

Eternity was a white-hot moment; A scream stretching into infinity.

Text contrasted starkly against my vision.

Your wounds have been healed. Health: 110/110.

You have received an item: Zion’s Blessing. Type: Neck. Durability: 10,000/10,000. Level Requirements: None. Item Class: Legendary. Quality: Masterwork. +10 to all stats. Description: A token of favor from the God-king Zion. ‘I couldn’t find it in a tennis bracelet, so this will have to do.’

You have received a quest: The Path of Zion. “All gifts must be earned by those worthy. Find my dungeon shrines. Complete my tests. It is there that you may find true power.” Accept?

Yes/No

I came back to myself on my knees, attempting to spit out the shards of bone and blood I had been sure was all that was left of my insides. Healed… I’ll thank you never to be healed like that ever again. There was a distinct lightening pattern surrounded by a star-burst below the quest description. I accepted the quest to clear my vision.

I stood to my feet among a mass of writhing and flailing bodies. I looked to Zion who had seated himself on his throne. His eyes bore into mine with such intensity that I almost failed to duck the swing of an axe blade as it clove the air above my head. I rolled to the side, coming up in a run as I checked my surroundings. I found what I was looking for almost immediately. Nestled in a rack of weapons was what looked like a bow stave, except for the distinct notch and string hanging lazily from its top. It was elegant and gently curved, like what you expect the elves in Lord of the Rings would use. I made a dash for it.

I dodged and shoved combatants into each other, tripping the occasional foot and putting others between myself and those who seemed to have an unhealthy interest in me. Reaching the stave, I pulled it free. I wedged it into the ground at an angle, stepping across it, I used the inside of my leg as a fulcrum and bent the bow back on itself. The pain of my left arm forced me to rest the top part of the bow in my armpit and use my entire body weight to bend and string the bow. I hooked the string on in time to step back. I pulled my leg back through and brought the wood up to parry a blow from a short sword aimed at my midsection. I counter attacked.

You hit BigNasty for 12 damage. (Kick)

Congratulations! You have learned the skill: Unarmed Combat. ‘If it’s come down to fisticuffs, you should probably just give up now.’

He stumbled back, tripping over a fallen player and allowing me to grab two arrows in one hand from the quiver leaning up against the rack. Before I could talk myself out of it I quickly aimed and loosed both arrows in a smooth, quick succession.

You have received an item: Longbow of the Forest. Damage: 10-13. +4 Dexterity +3 Stamina. Durability 24/24. Item Class: Uncommon. Quality: Above Average. Weight: 1.7kg.

Critical Hit! Coup de grâce! You hit BigNasty for 48 damage. You hit Bignasty for 56 damage! You have slain BigNasty! Experience received.

Congratulations! You have learned a new skill: Archery. ‘Way to get in there and really mix it up! The truest expression of courage—a ranged weapon! Way to go, hero.’

You have earned an Achievement: First Blood. +1 Primary Stat used in kill (Dexterity).

You have earned an Achievement: Player Killer. +5% damage done to players. (1/10 players killed until next Achievement).

I shook my head with a chuckle at the system messages. I had a feeling I knew who was behind that. The smile on my face was quickly replaced with a grimace as the pain in my left arm doubled me over. Yeah. This isn’t going to work. I pulled my head through the bow and let it sling across my body. I slid a few arrows at an angle through my belt and looked around for a blade. I wasn’t as good with a sword, but I still trained multiple days a week. Dad really took his role playing seriously. If I had wanted to be a part of it, it was either put up or shut up. I quickly found and discarded a Roman style Gladius. It worked best with a shield that was just impossible with my arm the way it was. A petite blonde was knocked back into the racks by a flying tackle. I ducked down, putting the turned over racks between me and the other players.

The girl wrapped her legs around her attacker in a guard position and quickly sent him for respawn with a flurry of knife wounds. Even if the player was a hardcore character, we were all level 1. I wasn’t sure how the respawn mechanic worked for the game, but I wasn’t really eager to find out either. I noticed a short blade sticking out from under the overturned racks. I tested the balance of the arming sword. They were mainly used as side arms, but they were excellent one-handed weapons worn in the Middle Ages.

You have received an item: Deft Knightly Sword. Damage: 9-12. +4 Strength +4 Agility. Durability 30/30. Item Class: Uncommon. Quality: Average. Weight: 1.3kg.

The girl rolled to her feet nearby. I did a double take at seeing Jane standing there. My eyes caught the name above her head: Blondie. Before I could open my mouth to say a word, she had drawn and thrown a knife at me in a blink.

Surprise Attack! Victor Fury hits you for 38 damage! (Sword)

I crashed to the ground from the impact, disorientation clouding my vision. My back and shoulder were afire with torment. I couldn’t reconcile the system message with Blondie hitting me with a knife. I shook my head clear and saw Blondie and a sharp-nosed ferret of a man acting out a Steven Segal movie. They had knives in each hand and their movements were a blur of speed and clashing blades.

Dusty boots stepped into my field of view. I followed them up to their owner as Victor pulled a knife free that had buried itself in the meat just above his clavicle. Okay. It’s maybe making a little more sense now. That girl’s good. Shame she didn’t get him in the neck. My eyes were drawn there to see the burning brand of a matching necklace—the lightning emblem resting against his upper chest.

“It seems you have finally acknowledged your rightful place—kneeling, like a peasant.” He turned the knife over in his hands with a hateful glance toward the girl. “I’m nothing if not merciful, you know. Simply—”

As he dropped the knife to the dusty arena floor, I was already moving. I wasn’t about to lay there gawking at my would-be killer like a lamb. I did as I was trained. I attacked.

Tucking my left arm in, I rolled at an angle, transferring the momentum into a rising horizontal slash. A thin-bladed rapier intercepted the blow as Victor, interrupted in his gloating, slipped quickly into a en garde stance. The thin blade of the weapon offered nothing more than a tap against my sword and wasn’t able to deflect the blow in any meaningful way. His movements and reactions stemmed from the sport, as his riposte drew a hot line of fire across my chest and shoulder. My sword caught him in the midsection with a meaty thwack, throwing of the angle off his thrust.

Victor Fury hits you for 11 damage!

You hit Victor Fury for 33 damage!

Congratulations! You have learned a new skill: Swordsmanship. ‘Hey, that’s more like it, tough guy!’

Victor used his left hand to touch the wound, as he maintained his fencing stance, his right arm held forward and the tip of the blade pointed toward my eyes.

He glanced at his blood slicked fingers. “Not bad, for a—”

I slapped the flat of my blade against the side of his rapier, stepping in close and pulling an arrow from my belt with my left hand, I slammed it home under his floating ribs on his right side. The pain in my left arm was met with another system message.

You hit Victor Fury for 17 damage!

“You uncouth twat!” Victor was able to break contact, but not before I broke the arrow off into the wound at his side.

Victor Fury is now bleeding.

The hit point bar above his head was passing the half way mark.

Victor couldn’t find purchase on the slick wooden stump in his side. “I can see you are no man of honor. Very well.”

TaylorSchwifty hits you for 27 damage! (Arrow)

My health slipped to just over thirty percent with the ranged attack. Victor smiled at the blow and the obvious pain it caused and his arm swung in for a finishing series of blows.

His eyebrows drew down when I stepped forward into the attack, spinning to my left. His sword snapped against the wooden staff of the bow slung across my back. His eyes widened as my sword described an arc through the air, ending at his neck.

Critical Hit! 51 damage!

Congratulations! You have increased Swordsmanship to level 2. +2% damage with swords. +2% chance to hit with swords.

Victor stumbled back, clutching his neck with less than 5% hp. I ducked low after the strike, barely dodging the second arrow that sped past my ear. I realized only moments had passed in my fight with Victor as the sounds of knives clashing still rang in the air. I turned to face the archer, interposing my sword between the two of us. I relaxed a bit. Standing out of my half-crouch.

“What are you smiling at?” TaylorSchwifty called, notching another arrow. “You think I’m funny?”

“I’m not smiling at you. I’m smiling at him.” I said, pointing past her.

“Nice try.” She pulled the arrow to her ear, sighting down the shaft. “I’m not falling fo—”

Gerald had strapped his sword to his back. The thick tendons in his wrist stood out as he swept her arm out and away, disarming her and spinning her corkscrewing into the ground.

“Ma’am. Stop resisting ma’am.” An elbow was smashing down like a jack hammer onto the back of her head, bouncing it off of the packed dirt. He tightened the arm bar as she attempted to roll away. Hooking an arm around her neck he brought both hands together onto the arm, pinned a too high of an angle behind her back. “Ma’am. I’m going to need you to walk this line for me, ma’am,” as he dragged her face through the dirt, piling up a small furrow. Her health bar continued to shrink under the abuse. “Just as I suspected. Clearly intoxicated. I’m afraid we’re going to need you to sleep it off tonight.” The last, he spoke as her HP bar reached zero and her body began to disintegrate.

I couldn’t help but grin. To my knowledge, Gerald only had a sense of humor when he was on the mat or in a fight. It was refreshing to see someone else on the other end of his affection.

I looked around to see a much-thinned crowd around us. Zion still watched calmly from his throne. What was his game? He wanted to manipulate people weaker than himself? To find out who’s the best and strongest? I glanced down at the emblem around my neck. I was going to be the strongest. I was going to find out what happened to mom, but I wasn’t going to become one of these rich kids, throwing daddy’s money around to do it. I knew what to do.

Tucking the blade into the opposite side of the belt from the arrows I slipped the bow over my head and turned back to Victor. I shifted to the side around him to get a better position. He was still clutching his neck; the bleeding affect had apparently gotten worse from the wound. I slid an arrow from my belt and nocked it on the string. Gritting my teeth through the pain I slowly pulled the arrow with a three-fingered grip, sighting on Victors bleeding form. I took a breath, letting some out and holding it, waiting for the space between heart beats.

I loosed the string. The arrow was a dog on a new trail. It leapt from the bow with a will of its own, closing the scant 20 yards between me and Victor in a blink.

The arrow sped on.

Threading the triangle gap his arm made as he held his wounded neck, the arrow arched smoothly over the heads of the combatants below as it blazed a trail through the air toward Zion’s left eye.

I had thought him engrossed in the spectacle of the combatants in front of him. I was wrong. As the arrow closed the last few yards, his eyes snapped to the flying missile, fast and yet lazily as well. He moved impossibly fast and gracefully—only shifting the exact amount needed, he slid to one side. The arrow cut a fine line of red across his cheek as it smashed into the glass throne.

The world stuttered to a halt as his hand raised up to his cheek to catch a ruby droplet as it fell. Storm cloud eyes paused in terrorizing coastal cities as his heavy gaze fell on me. He slid from his throne, stepping toward me. My hand had already been reaching for a second arrow, but time and perception were broken and disjointed like a politicians ethical standards. Each step brought him further than natural laws could account for. He stood in front of me before I had even began to take in a breath for denial.

“Have you a wish for oblivion, child?”

The air slammed into my lungs as my hand completed its instinctive journey of fitting another arrow to the string. I glanced around. Every player in the arena was frozen in place.

“You're looking for fighters.” I said simply. "I am a fighter. Not a pawn."

Zion tilted his head. “What an unusual thing to say. Of course you are a pawn. We all are. Even me. Especially in this place. I hadn’t realized we had such a great hero of legend among us. One who would overcome all obstacles set before him. Who needs no one and no thing to help him win through. Very well."

He reached out a stained finger as red lightening forked into the necklace. Pain bloomed again.

Zion’s Blessing has become Fool’s Folly. Type: Neck. Durability: 10,000/10,000. Item Class: Relic. Quality: Grand Masterwork. This item is soulbound and will not be lost upon death. All stats reduced by 10. Description: This son, unworthy of Sparta was not mine at all. ‘Sometimes we just need a good kick in the balls I guess. Welp. Here goes.’ Attention! This item is cursed and cannot be removed!

Zion drew his sword. "There is more than one path to greatness, hero. Go. And make your own."

Time crashed into the world around me in a deafening cacophony.

Victor’s health bar ticked to zero.

"Nooo!" A scream rent the air as Calen crashed into me, trying to knock me clear. I was frozen. Immobilized with the shackles of a god's will, however.

I tried to push her free as I looked from her to Zion in horror. No. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Zion’s white blade was an avalanche as it crashed down upon us.