Chapter 4

Makroun’s Gulch – Grade 3 Dungeon

Two friends lay bonelessly on the stone, their weapons thrown haphazardly aside.

“Oh gaawwwwd, kill me now…”

“…It burns. Why does it buuuuuuurn---?”

Pitiful groans floated from them. A short, silver-haired Half-Dwarf lazily twisted her head to fix a bleary glare on her Dark Elf friend. “Yoouuuu…I’m never listening to you again. ‘It’ll be easy!’ you said… ‘It’s just a short dungeon!’ you said!”

CountessNaga, the Dark Elf Arcanist, just whimpered. “Uuuu…I’m so sorry. How should I have known this place was hell? We’re the first ones to discover it!”

“Ha. Haha…” The Half-Dwarf, Millia, laughed sheepishly. “Ugh, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be blaming you. We share equal blame. We underestimated the game.” She admitted tiredly. “Seriously, we- oh, wait a sec, I think my [Exhaustion] debuff just ran out.” She hopped back onto her feet, grinning. “Ha! [Tireless] is the best!”

“Die, Millia…seriously, just die…” Naga complained, her beautiful face still planted in the ground.

Millia did a few jumping jacks, a cheeky grin on her face. Naga decided it was better to ignore the (internet)troll and sobbed theatrically into the stone.

Myth/Real Online was an entirely new breed of game with an equally massive treasure trove of secrets, as many beta testers discovered over the course of their headlong rush into this new world. Those who were expecting anything like the standard keyboard/mouse or controller input were given one hell of a wake-up call. Monsters that should only stand as high as an average person’s abdomen suddenly seemed intimidatingly large when you had a first-person view of their fanged maws as they leapt up to eat your face. Those that marched out of the town gates with System Assist turned off and a swagger in their step returned with slumped shoulders and red faces. Fighting was hard. Surprisingly so.

‘What is this? D*rk Souls?’ Was the cry on message boards.

But once the flash-tide of butthurt began to die down, new interest glimmered in the eyes of certain people. Many of those, predictably, were fans of an infamously difficult series of games. ‘D*rk Souls, you say? Shiny~!’ Some of the original players, fed up with those self-entitled brats who screamed “NERF NERF NERF” at the first hint of difficulty, posted videos taken with the in-game record function. All of them were usually titled ‘FIGHTING SCHOOL FOR NOOBS’ and things of similar intent. One of those, belonging to the more polite and professional category of videos, was made by none other than Millia herself.

Flashing a cheerful grin at her viewers, she started her first video off with this line. “It’s a fantasy game, people!. You’re fighting scary monsters and gribblies too ugly to live! I understand that even if you can respawn, it can be traumatic. But it doesn’t have to be. I can show you how.”

In Myth/Real Online, it was all about the skills. Passives, actives and equipment were the three main pillars of combat in the game. Classes like Fighter, Mage and Thief did not exist save as titles and did not dictate your approach to a fight. Your main method of damage was determined by your equipped weapon. If you used an axe, do not expect to be able to use staff skills like ‘Stave Bolt’ or ‘Wizard’s Blast’. On the other hand, if you wielded a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, you could use two different types of skills – except for certain skills that required a two handed grip on a single weapon to use. It was both simple and complex at once. Add in the fact that all skills can improve with use and it becomes a matter of finding a style of combat you are comfortable with and sticking to it.

Passive skills are much more versatile, but also much more obscure. You could find NPCs willing to teach Active skills and even discover a few by accident yourself, but Passives can only be discovered as you play. A player who uses a mace and blocks hits with a shield may soon develop the [Mace Proficiency] and [Shield Defense] after doing it long enough. A caster who primarily freezes his enemies can soon rely on [Practiced Caster] to make his spells faster and more efficient to cast and [Student of Frost] will ensure that the coldness of his spells bites to the bone. The true importance of Passives is that all of them indirectly improve health, mana and ability scores, while some can even boost, change or even add new attributes.

As for healing, the game did not even have a dedicated healing class. It was more accurate to say that every player was responsible for restoring themselves – everyone had a special slot for any item or skill that they preferred to use. With the frantic and dynamic pace of battles, a dedicated healer is just a weakness. Combinations such as a warrior who constantly regenerated his health using druidic vines wrapped around his body to a gunner who could reconstruct her body with a spell to even the standard potion junkie were all possible.

But stat bonuses can only go so far. Flailing randomly against an enemy stops working once they start showing up with armor, natural or otherwise. Even unarmored enemies learn how to evade and counter. Makroun’s Gulch was full of enemies like those.

Harsh speech spewing from hissing tongues resounded off the walls. Millia and Naga both snapped their faces towards the noise. Exchanging a brief look, they prepared themselves for battle. Millia scooped up her bearded axe from the floor and speedily took position in front of Naga, her eyes roving and alert. Naga seemed to wield no weapon at first, but that was a deception. The graceful patterns on her stylish dress lit up as dirt and grime fell off Naga’s body. The bracelets on her wrist glinted with an otherworldly shine.

Naga, using her [Tailoring] and [Manaweaving] production skills, turned her entire outfit into an alluring weapon. In the most literal sense. She really did enjoy playing the femme fatale.

A war squad of Lizardmen appeared from behind a boulder. To their credit, they were very disciplined. At first sight of the Players, the monstrous beings almost instantly closed ranks into a tight combat formation. A hulking brute of a Lizardman Blood Brave raised its jagged ivory shield, cleaver raised high and alert. His proud helm was fashioned from the skull of a long-dead monster and streaked with dried blood. His scales were glossy, but littered with scars of many battles. Behind him, his three subordinates hissed and jeered in their own language, their taloned hands gripping spears and tomahawks. They were Lizardmen Skirmishers. Sandwiched between them was a Lizardman Cursetongue. Festooned with fetishes over a ragged robe, it raised over its head a skull that clearly came from a member of its own race and began a low, menacing hiss. The eyeholes of the skull glowed and it opened its jaws on its own.

However, even before the battle started, they were already at a disadvantage. Millia and Naga chose to rest in this place because it was easy to defend. As they were, they would have to go one-by-one if they wanted to charge. Strategy was something the game would not teach you at the start.

Millia charged ahead, shield raised to slam into the Blood Brave’s own. The Lizardman grunted, but held its ground with a triumphant glint in its slitted eyes before letting out a harsh croak. The three Skirmishers used it back as a ramp as they leapt over the heads of the deadlocked warriors. Without Millia’s presence, Naga was vulnerable. This was the second secret of battle in Myth/Real – verticality and environmental exploitation. Every instant in battle, the flow could change at the drop of a hat.

Naga chuckled in the back of her throat. “Ooh…clever boys!” she murmured. She spun in a slow circle, seemingly uncaring of the lizardmen sprinting towards her. She flicked one hand out as she completed the spin. Abruptly, the skirmishers stumbled, one of them breaking his ankle and letting out a pained snarl. Under Naga’s control, her shadow had spilled out like an oil slick. Little black claws had shot from the floor to catch legs with unnatural strength.

A clever application of the shadow spell [Umbral Limbs], changed from large, wickedly clawed arms into a shadowy carpet that spawned many smaller ones.

Thus trapped, the Lizardmen were no longer protecting the Cursetongue. Behind them, the reptilian spellcaster narrowed its eyes in hate and sped up its incantation. The skull in its hands creaked its maw wider with a crack.

“Heh. So that’s how you wanna play, then?” Naga asked. Her lips moved as she began incanting as well.

Between them, Millia and the Blood Brave clashed in a spirited duel. Shield banged against shield, slashes parried and returned. The Blood Brave loomed over the shorter Millia, but she matched its strength each time she struck. It was already hissing in frustration as its attacks continued to be stymied. Millia’s grin was full of savage glee.

A savage chop from Millia bashed into the brace of bones protecting its throat. It choked, but the warding slice of its cleaver was strong and precise enough to force her to backpedal and lose the chance to keep the pressure on. Ignoring the pieces of armor that fell off, it used the melee skill [Death March], unleashing alternated shield bashes and heavy overhead slashes to keep Millia retreating and off balance.

Rather than fear, the look in Millia’s eyes was cunning appraisal. Watching carefully, her axe darted in after a shield bash. To the Blood Brave’s surprise, it fell short of hitting anything. Millia pulled back hard, the hook of her bearded axe catching and pulling the rim of the Brave’s shield. The Brave quickly stepped into the fall, raising its shield and cleaver to protect its head and neck.

…Only to have Millia smash the edge of her shield into its exposed knee with a vicious punch. [Shield Jab]. The crack of bone echoed off the stone walls. It jerked from the sudden agony and died by Millia’s axe as it smashed past its weakened guard and took its head off.

Behind them all, the Cursetongue winced as the Blood Brave’s [Sanguine Aura] blinked into nothing. Nevertheless, it shouted in triumph and raised its skull high in both hands. A sickly false light flashed bright…only to be snuffed out by a ripple in the air.

It stared incredulously at the now ordinary skull in its talons, before dropping its gaze to Naga, who playfully blew at the tip of her index finger, her hand curled into a finger gun. “Dispel.” She drawled. “And now, for my next trick…” She said, her finger tracing a purple line in the air as she drew a ritual circle in the air.

“[Cosmic Servant].”

The captured lizardmen barely let out a squawk before betting slurped into the shadow. There was a disturbing crunch. From the pool of blackness that was left, humanoid shape rose. IT was a rounded, crude approximation of a human, like a melted wax statue made of black stuff, its legs melted into the shadow instead of feet. Sparks bloomed in the featureless dark before wide bands of glowing light encircled its waist and wrists. The ‘face’ of the thing was the spinning center of a spiral galaxy, the starry arms spread across its entire body.

“Oh, Ikky dear, please crush this monster for mommy, will you?” Naga cooed.

The Cosmic Servant surged right past Millia on a cresting wave of darkness, its arms raised high. The Cursetongue could only squeak as the arms descended…

-----------------------

Romul, Vulcanopolis

Katherine Walker sat with her chin on her hands, her elbow resting on her demurely folded legs. Her other hand was busy poking away at the menu screen she had open in front of her. She was sitting in a tent pitched in the local barracks of the Romul town. The shouts of sergeants training their men echoed through the air, over the sound of marching sandals and clanking armor.

She dragged the final piece of armor over to the small standing image of herself and felt the sensation of her final piece of armor equipping itself on her. She could manually don it and gain experience for her [Iron Shell] Passive, but she had trained it up until such bonuses were negligible at best. She eyed her tiny reflection on her inventory screen.

To be honest, she was less than satisfied with her in-game appearance. Despite the fact that the D-set scanned her real appearance and used it to create her default avatar, the graphics themselves meant that she only looked like she stepped out of an anime, though it would be one the more realistic and detailed ones. Her twin-tailed hairstyle did not help there, but that was not something she would change. She wore that hairstyle six years ago, on the day Isaac fell into the coma. She kept her hair color dark brown and skin her natural shade. She even kept her eye colors the same deep black.

Now, she had difficulty believing that her own mother would recognize her. After all, she doubted that heavy loricae segmentum armor forged from iron could be considered casual wear. Nor formalwear, even.

She had a sudden image of walking into an interview all clanking in her heavy armor, her crested helmet cradled under her arm and had to stifle a bout of laughter.

When she first entered Myth/Real Online, she already had a plan to build a scout or rogue type of character. Even though the default pain settings of the game was much lower than its real counterpart, it was more logical in her mind to dodge hits instead of taking them. She did not have that much time to amass enough money to buy a lot of potions despite the 4 to 1 Time acceleration in-game.

After all, she would most probably have to play escort for her mother. Mom's work schedule meant that her character would be absolutely feeble once the deadline came.

So, she simply grabbed a simple Arcane Healing tome, some basic equipment and a simple gladius off the shops and went out to fight. With the almighty power of Alt+Tab (She made the finger motions a macro for that exact purpose) and internet guides written up by other beta testers, she blazed a path through the low-levelled quests.

Of course, she got thrown a curve-ball on one of her Hunting Quests. She came across a group of NPC legionnaires who were rapidly losing against a Manticore.

Despite the vaunted discipline of the Romulii, the situation was looking bleak. The Manticore had turned their officer into a honeycomb with a lucky spray of quills and was currently smacking the rest around with its huge claws. Unable to coordinate and too embroiled in close combat to disengage, the legionnaires were tiring quickly. They had an even chance to win even then, but it looked as though casualties were unavoidable.

Watching them gave Kat an uncomfortable feeling. While she was aware that they were all NPCs, she had found herself speaking and interacting with such NPCs like real people. They were that convincing.

No, beyond convincing. Genuine.

Kat could not help but be drawn into conversations with them. The events she saw in front of her, hearing the air ringing with desperate shouts and cries of pain, were incredibly hard to ignore.

She had brushed her hand down her face, feeling as though she had put on a mask, and raced down towards the battle. Scooping up the officer’s dropped standard, she shouted directions at the embattled soldiers. She had only the vaguest idea what she was doing and no idea of how to give orders, but she somehow managed to shepherd the men and women into two groups that harried the Manticore with their scutum tower shields. She was pretty sure most of it was thanks to how well-trained these legionnaires were in the first place.

Unprepared for the sudden coordination of its toys, the Manticore suddenly found itself trapped between two walls of iron and wood. That was when Kat zipped in with [Sprint], leapt into the air with [Vault] and cut its spike-throwing tail off with a [Razor Cut] delivered with all the strength she could muster in her gladius.

Without its most dangerous weapon and writhing in unexpected pain, it was totally vulnerable to the legionnaires’ blades. Some of them took a vindictive glee in instant karma by hurling pilums into the softest flesh they could find. It died very quickly after that.

Kat was left staring at a squad of injured but victorious soldiers, their officer dead and his standard held in her small fist. Her fragile mask crumbled and she dropped the standard with a squeak.

And just like that, Kat’s plans were derailed. She let herself be escorted back to the nearest Legion barracks (because a quest prompt with a hefty reward had shown up) and got herself introduced to the Legate in command of the place. She was pretty much sucked into a lengthy quest chain over the course of two real-time days that ended up with her in heavy armor and a shiny new title of [Decanus].

She did not really mind that. She had gotten several new skills out of it, after all.

Polearm Proficiency Lvl.6Mastery over weapons that have long hafts, usually taller than a person's height.

Unlocks Polearm Skills.

+30% Damage.

+6% Attack Speed.

+3 Vigor

+2 Reflex

One-Handed Proficiency Lvl.8Mastery over single-grip weapons including shortswords, handaxes, maces etc.

Unlocks One-handed Skills.

+40% Damage.

+8% Attack Speed.

+4 Reflex

+2 Vigor

Dual Wielding Lvl. 2Wield a weapon in each hand. It requires great mental focus and physical coordination, but you are now a

whirlwind of flashing edges.

+6% Attack Speed

+2 Reflex

Leadership Lvl.3You know how to use you Charisma to inspire, lead and direct followers to do your bidding both on the field

of battle and off it. People unconsciously defer to you as well.

Activates [Morale] meter on HUD.

+6 Charisma

+6 Intellect

+12% to effects of Skills based off Charisma

Stentorian Lvl.4Your voice can be heard clear across a clamorous battlefield! Using your internal energies, you can increase the volume

of your voice to beyond natural limits and even cause powerful effects on both ally and enemy!

Unlocks Commands

+1 Charisma

+40 HP

Standard Bearer Lvl. 1You are entrusted with the proud standard of your troops. As long as you wield it, you are an inspiring symbol

and the pillar upon which your comrades shall stand.

Grants 'Rally to Me!' Command.

Grants 'We Stand Here!' Command.

Grants 'Romul Victoria!' Command.

+5% Charisma-based Skills

Iron Shell Lvl. 4Clad in a heavy metal shell, you can shrug off blows that will normally put other beings down.

In time, you will laugh off the heaviest attacks and keep going no matter what.

+200 HP

+1 Vigor

+1 Spirit

In addition, it worked in her favor because she was basically in charge of a squad of fantasy Spec-Ops soldiers that she could summon to her side with the horn swinging at her belt. With group of loyal and burly soldiers at her disposal, she could do a much better job at protecting her mother. She could not help but feel a sense of wonder at it all. Myth/Real Online really threw one hell of a surprise at her. She could not help but feel a spark of eager curiosity at what would happen in the future.

Now, all she had to do was to meet her new minio-subordinates.

Standing up from the low Roman-style couch, she mentally donned the mask she had come to refer to as the Lady of War.

Soon enough, a group of ten armor-clad legionnaires filed into the large tent. As one, they clashed their fists onto their chest armor and held them straight, still fisted, in salute. “Ave, Decanus!” They shouted together.

Kat returned the salute, a warm smile on her lips. “At ease, men! As of today, I shall be your new Decanus. If you’ll have me, I shall give you glory!”

An enthusiastic roar was her answer. Inside, Kat trembled, even though her face was calm and confident. What had she gotten herself into…?