Arc 2: Open Beta

Chapter 1

Japan

This is a city. A city that was, in many ways, more of a hive than a place to live.

Creature comforts were all close at hand, but that did not ease the pressure of living with the sheer masses of humanity pushing in from all sides.

This was a four-way crossing in one of the more famous locations in this city, this country. Feet ground away at white paint over black asphalt each day, wearing the zebra stripes away so quickly that the fresh coat re-painted over the faded marks were already no longer a pristine white. At a casual look, it would seem as though the road markings had been suspended in time, always looking this worn.

Senju Isumi did not pause too long to ponder this. The middle of the road was no place to space out, unless one suddenly developed an irresistible urge to inspect a car’s bumper at precisely zero centimeters away. She shuffled as quickly as she could in the stream of pedestrians and made it to the curb just in time for the traffic lights to stop blaring their age-old jingle and turn red once again.

She squeezed out from the river and stretched languidly. She never did like how frumpy her seifuku-style uniform made her look, but she was marginally grateful that it did not attract the attention of horny teenage boys – the horny teenage otakus were already creepy enough. Isumi’s eyes caught one of the huge electronic billboards out of the many that completely hid the windows of the skyscrapers all around.

Colorful scenes of fantasy and magic. Epic clashes between armies of humans, elves and monsters. A wide plethora of cultures based off historical examples. The corners of Isumi’s lips twitched upward as each familiar sight introduced itself to the world. Then, she had to stop her own jaw from dropping as she watched a very familiar battle unfold before her eyes.

“Ah! Hehehe! Here it comes…” She muttered to herself as a Griffon reared in the midst of a veritable forest of blades. Her eyes picked out a barely-dressed catgirl driving a rain of blows with fists and feet right into its side. A huge man with the entire hide of a bull hanging from his shoulders bashed its feathers to shreds, then a Dog Poukha launched himself forwards and upwards, decapitating the Griffon in a single strike.

Isumi could not help but grin widely. “Oooh…we’re on TV!” she thought as the words [MYTH/REAL ONLINE – IN OPEN BETA NOW!] emblazoned itself proudly on a black background in bold katakana. “Bara-kun’s gonna flip once the ads hit England. Bushido-kun will probably turn red. It’s gonna be hilarious!”

Because of this, Isumi made her way home with a spring in her step and a smile on her lips. Having gone straight home from her martial arts lessons, she immediately went for a warm bath – the brief shower she took at the dojo was nowhere near enough for her to feel really clean.

Later at night, Isumi put the finishing touches on her homework and retrieved her precious D-set from its stand on her desk.

Senju Isumi, 17 years old student and martial arts enthusiast, cast off her real-life identity and assumed the form of Nyakka, the Svartalfar Pugilist once more.

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England

Terry Goodsworth was not having a good day.

College had been particularly torturous today as the usual advanced chemistry professor was off sick, leaving a last minute stand-in to sub in for her today. The substitute teacher was completely unmotivated, which led to a class full of bored student. That naturally led to aimless chaos and was thus the trigger for the pounding headache he was nursing now.

That affliction was currently making his part-time job a trying affair, especially since the new hire was screwing things up left, right and centre. Nobody wanted to touch this particular shitstorm with a ten foot pole…which naturally meant that the entire pile of turds landed square in his lap.

Terry massaged the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before pushing his glasses back into place and turning around to face the dull gaze of the store’s newest disaster.

“Right, listen. You’re going to fetch a notepad and a pen. You’re going to come back here and jot down everything I say. There’s more than a few good reasons why we do things a certain way around here, so you need to memorize it.” Terry ordered.

He could see the other guy’s pimply face begin to harden mulishly. Terry was not in the mood for backtalk. “Just bloody do it. Another screw up like today and I’ll boot you out of the store myself!” He growled.

As the teenaged idiot scampered away, his face pale, Terry glared at his retreating back. “I hope H.R. tosses you out on your arse, you condescending, incompetent little twat!” he snarled in the privacy of his mind.

Once his shift was done, Terry’s headache was on the verge of morphing into a pounding migraine. He left his workplace as quickly as he could and went straight to his apartment and a waiting bottle of aspirin.

Sitting on his couch, he stared at his own D-Set with narrowed eyes. Though his headache had been dulled down to a mild throbbing instead of the vice-like pressure in the temples it had been earlier, he also felt sluggish and sleepy thanks to the aspirin. If he logged on, he probably would not be performing at his best. What was more, he would have to deal with a catgirl who was far too energetic for her own good.

…Strangely enough, that did not sound so bad.

“Ah, bollocks.” Terry grumbled. He scooped the device up and padded away to his bed.

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U.S.A, Hospital

Katherine Walker squeezed her brother’s hand. On the other side of the bed, their mother was doing the same. In between them was the still, emaciated form of Isaac Walker. If it were not for the uncombed brown hair poking out from under the D-Set and the lack of wrinkles, it would have been easy to mistake him for an elderly invalid on the very verge of death.

The Long-term ward felt cramped, for there was a series of large and powerful computers that had taken new residence in the room, along with a team of analysts and doctors. One of them stood slightly apart from the Walker family, watching his touchpad intently. Eventually, he sighed and shook his head.

“No change…”

The team about him murmured and nodded soberly. They knew that coma recovery was iffy at best. Kat and her mom grimaced and squeezed Isaac’s hands in support. The doctor with the touchpad clenched his jaw, but he did not lose hope. Instead, he only got even more determined. After all, there had been significant progress in the months since his patient’s consciousness had been dumped unceremoniously into an MMORPG.

“I’m sorry. I still felt nothing.” A flat, mechanically generated voice droned from a speaker. The technicians were proud of that breakthrough. Using the D-Set’s internal mechanisms to communicate with the patient prevented total sensory deprivation during these tests.

“It’s okay, Isaac.” Mrs. Walker replied with as much cheer as she could muster. “Just keep trying your best!”

“We’ll log in later, okay?” Kat told her brother, looking directly at the microphone. “If you can’t find anybody for your Adventurer’s Guild Initiation quest, then I’ll lend a hand.”

The short laugh that emerged from the speaker sounded sarcastically flat thanks to the program, but Kat knew better and substituted it with her brother’s gentle tone in her imagination. “Then I shall hold you to that promise. For now, is there anything interesting that happened today?” He asked.

What followed was warm time as the Walker family shared a laugh over Katherine’s retelling of a particularly hilarious set of disaster dominoes, the culprit being an airheaded, bumbling ditz of a freshman at her medical school.

Recounting their daily lives to each other had become something of a family habit. It was the best they could do to help Isaac re-connect to Real Life. He was also being ‘homeschooled’ with homework their Mom gave to him, starting from the school grade he had been before the coma. That one was perhaps not so enjoyable, but he did it anyway to give his family some peace of mind.

…Or that was what he told himself. Intellectually, he knew that he would need the knowledge to at least get a G.E.D. if he ever regained control of his body. If he was honest, he would rather fight the Griffon alone and naked than wade through page after page of brain-numbing torture. But this was something he needed to do if he did not want to become a burden on his family, so Isaac kept his displeasure to himself and buckled down.

Fortunately, he was free to relieve his stress on the many, many monsters inhabiting Myth/Real online. Isaac also discovered the simple joy of receiving heartfelt thanks from the various clients he met through the Adventurer’s Guild.

If there was one thing he was worried about, it was Riselda’s strange behavior. He was aware that there was much he did not know about her, but she had been more aloof in the way she treated him. She was friendly enough, but…distant.

Isaac was feeling troubled because he was starting to think that he had wronged her in some way. He had come to realize that he should ask her about it and clear the air between them before it got worse. He did not want to lose their friendship over something he may have done.

With his goal decided, Isaac pulled himself along with mental limbs towards the world that had saved him.

He soared into a tunnel of light and colour. At the end of it, he could see the familiar words…

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Gedbramen Peak

The Great Mountain of Gedbramen was tall and mighty, a colossal monument of stone and ice the earth raised to touch the sky. The lofty upper reaches howled constantly in winds that would blow even the heaviest beast off its feet and down the mountainside to dash their bodies against the ground far, far, far below.

That was all the reason Hralna needed to not be there. She was sensible enough to conduct her business on one of the lower peaks. Unlike its white-clad brethren, it was low enough to be barely covered in snow, even at the very tip. The wind was pretty nippy, but Normaðr blood ran in her veins. The chilling breeze hardly rated as an irritant, let alone a concern.

Though, she rather liked the way her grey cloak was billowing. It was dramatic enough to satisfy her exacting tastes. She tapped her simple staff on the snow in a simple rhythm.

With such a commanding view, she easily spotted a black speck appear in the icy blue of the mountain sky. It grew rapidly, splitting from one black blob into two. Within moments, she saw the motion of flapping wings. She smiled as the two blobs finally flew close enough to reveal their identity as ravens that settled on each of her shoulders in a flurry of wings.

“Hralna, you misbegotten, trollspawned bitch. You just had to pick this place. This fucking mountain with its fucking cold and the great fucking Hraesvelgurs every-fucking-where. You do know they love to eat ravens, right?” She heard one gripe from its perch on her left shoulder. Since she no longer had use of her left eye, she had to turn her head to look at the speaking raven.

“My, my, you seem to be a little salty there, Muginn.” She commented with a grin.

There was a snort from her right shoulder. “Considering that we just came back from an all-fish diet on that leaky bucket the Romulii call a ship, then it’s a miracle that my brother’s this civil!” Huginn chortled.

“Oh, fuck you!” Muginn shot back.

“Sorry, I don’t swing that way, Huginn. Besides, incest is icky.”

“Ahem!” Hralna cut in. “You two can snipe at each other as much as you want after the report.” She told them, a note of warning in her tone.

The ravens looked at each other before rolling their eyes in unison. “Yes, oh great and mighty Grey Wanderer. We hear and obey.” They chorused in the most bored tone of voice they could manage.

Hralna just sighed and let the ravens’ disrespect wash over her. Huginn and Muginn were vastly older than she was. The elderly cannot help being ornery, especially when they were as senile as these two.

“Hoi! You were thinking of something rude again!”

“Fucking disrespectful, you brat!”

…….

Eventually, the two ravens calmed down enough to give a detailed report of their scouting mission across the world. She nodded grimly at the increasing number of Unborn attacks, the signs of frenzied and mutated monsters as well as rumblings of disquiet amongst the various nations of the world.

“…Oh. So little Arthur was unscathed?” She asked.

“It was a fucking near thing, that’s for sure!” Muginn ruffled his feathers. “Brr…The Unborn are still damn creepy to me even after so long. Something so big appearing out of thin air like that…Fucking unnatural, I tell ya! Good thing Oberon was visiting that day.”

Hralna cracked a thin, sharp smile at that. “Did he use Pollenkill?”

Huginn croaked out a laugh. “Heh! He sure did. The abomination died on the spot and more than one person needed a new change of clothes! It was…messy.”

Hralna heaved out a sigh of relief. “Well, my godson wasn’t hurt at all, so all’s fine and well. Now, let’s move on to the most important subject.”

At that, all the lighthearted mischief seemed to evaporate from the area. Huginn, Muginn and Hralna all became utterly serious.

“The Star-people. The Star-born.” Hralna stated.

Huginn cocked his head. “That’s right. The strange beings that were born from falling stars. Or, that’s what they’re supposed to be, because I’ve never seen falling stars that leave no trace on the earth when they impact. Not in such unprecedented numbers, at least.”

Muginn mimicked the sound of someone spitting to the side. “Damn right. From what I’ve witnessed, they behave more or less like everybody else, if a little strange at most times. With disturbing differences, though…”

Huginn nodded gravely. “They all learn with frightening speed. Their power grows as quickly as they learn. Most of all, something’s odd with their souls.”

“Death means fucking nothing to them! That’s exactly like the Unborn!” Muginn spat.

Hralna rubbed her chin. “That may be true, but remember that those invaders possess no soul at all. The new guys aren’t like our old foes in this important area.” She pointed out.

Huginn bobbed his head. “Point. There’s one other thing, too. Something about them feels familiar, don’t you think?”

Muginn considered that point. “Now that you mention it…” He admitted grudgingly.

Hralna let out a low chuckle. “Heh, I was wondering how long before this would come up.”

Huginn and Muginn fell silent and stared at Hralna.

“…You know something.”

“You wench! I know that look! You’ve got something twisty hidden in your sleeves again, don’t you?”

Her only reply was to hold a hand up to her mouth demurely and let out a coy “Uhuhuhu~!”

“Aw, shit! Not again!”

“I foresee migraines. Lots and lots of migraines.”

Hralna cast her gaze out over the horizon beyond. “Well, I’ll just say that we’ve been hedging our bets, so to speak. This is just the first few steps. We’ve just laid down the board - it’s time to start setting up the pieces.”

Huginn and Muginn exchanged looks again. Together as one, they let out a deep, deep sigh.

“Oh boy, here we go again…”

“Gods give me strength…”

Hralna’s laughter echoed up and down the peaks that day. Coincidentally, a strange rumor of a Mountain Witch began to circulate amongst a nearby village…

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This is the only the beginning.

The day of union shall arrive soon.

Shall it be enough? Are we too late?

There is nothing we can do now, save one thing.

One small thing.

Have faith. Believe. Because we have nothing else.

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