Chapter 10 – The Dim

Daos arrived at Erick’s workshop a few minutes early and began laying out the fabrics he’d purchased the previous day on the workbench.

“What’s all this, then?” Erick asked when he exited the back room.

“I want to rework my robe into a patchwork of colors,” Daos explained.

“Whatever for?” the master asked, looking at Daos as if the mage had gone crazy overnight.

“I’m a Chromatyst. It’s how I earned my Keeper title. I cast magic based on the colors I can see. I don’t want to find myself in a situation where I don’t have access to a variety of color. There are plenty of alleys and walkways here in Lyr that are all stone and brick, and lack much of what I may want to base a spell on,” Daos explained.

Master Erick shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you’ll look a fool, like a court jester, but I suppose I can’t tell a mage how to do his magic any more than he can tell me how to sew cloth. Still, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“How so?” Daos asked, placing the last piece of fabric next to the others.

“The robe you’re wearing has already been modified to the extent it’s ever going to be, what with the camel trim it’s got. What you want, well, you’re talking about creating something from the ground up, so to speak.

“But,” he continued, “you did state you want the fast track route. So fine – let’s start from scratch. Can you work through lunch? This is no two-hour task.”

“I can work until late afternoon, but then I have another appointment.”

Erick nodded. “Should be enough time.” He rubbed his hands together. “Why you want to look so incredibly… stupid, is beyond me, though. You Outsiders really have upside-down aesthetics that never cease to amaze.”

That’s what the cloak will be for. First, I’ve gotta tackle the robe, though.

Hours passed as they toiled over the table, measuring, cutting, and sewing. Daos’s arms cramped up more than once as he stood stock still, arms outstretched while the master laid cloth over him, took measurements, and inserted pins to mark the points where they would cut or create seams.

When they broke for lunch, he fought the urge to give in to disappointment. The half-completed robe looked haphazard, like the wild creation of a toddler let loose in the sewing room.

He swallowed the last of his bread and pushed the thoughts aside. The point isn’t to look good. The point is to have access to my magic anywhere, any time. As long as the robe is with me and I have light, I have magic. It’s that simple. The cloak will cover most of it for daily life.

Daos did appreciate the tactile experience when he ran his hands over the robe, however. The variety of fabrics presented his fingers with interesting sensations as it moved down the length of the robe.

More than once Erick rolled his eyes or chuffed a laugh as they attached the next square to the one before. It apparently went against every grain of the master’s fiber to do it, but he’d lost the bet and honored the stakes fair and square.

“No, not like that, here. Watch carefully.”

Some form of the statement had been uttered more than once, and Daos did his best to absorb the information. For some reason, the world was no longer prompting him with text pop-ups as he leveled some of his skills, or even his profession.

A part of him wondered if it had something to do with his integration into this reality, but he tried not to dwell on that train of thought, forcing himself to return to the task at hand.

They ran out of colors from his initial purchase, and he was forced to spend another two hundred gold to buy some of Erick’s inventory so they could finish.

Six hundred left. Two days ago, I’d never seen that much in game, and I’d have considered it a fortune. Now all I can think about is how I’ve parted with four hundred in less than twenty-four hours.

The sun was teasing Daos, ready to set but not quite yet, when they finally stepped back to view the finished product.

Glorious, Daos thought, as he looked to Master Erick and saw a look that clearly said “Hideous, Horrendous, Hilarious.” He smiled.

“Well, put it on, then.”

Daos touched the patchwork robe. Robe, equip! It disappeared from the table, reappearing on Daos’s body. A perfect fit.

“Tell no one that my hands ever touched this… thing,” Eric said, shaking his head and holding back a laugh.

“I know, it’s ridiculous, but it’s going to save my life some day, I promise. And you’ll have helped. That said, I do think it’s a good idea to consider a cloak, along the lines of the whitemint cloak from the other day, for walking around the city. I do look odd.”

“Odd’s not the word I’d use, but you keep usin’ it if it makes you feel better. There’s no time for a cloak today. Why don’t we create that in tomorrow’s session?”

Daos sighed, but had expected that to be the case. “Okay. Thanks for today.”

“Off with ya then,” Master Erick said with another laugh, shaking his head as he turned back to the workbench.

Daos checked his Character Sheet again as he strode toward the alley that would lead to their secret basement rendezvous. He was pleasantly surprised to see that he’d increased his profession to Level 4 in the process of creating the robe.

NAME: Daos, Keeper

CLASS: Chromatyst > Mage

LEVEL: 7

EXPERIENCE: 5,799/5,800

GOVERNING ATTRIBUTES

POWER: [5]

PROWESS: [1]

ENDURANCE: [3]

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES

STRENGTH: --

DEXTERITY: 2

CONSTITUTION: 3

MENTAL ATTRIBUTES

INTELLIGENCE: 3

WIT: 1

WILLPOWER: 3

SKILLS

Analyze: 3

Arcane Perception: 2

Banter: 2

Barter: 2

Bashful: 2

Linguist: 1

Perception: 3

Sneak: 1

INVENTORY

EQUIPPED ARMOR: Chromatyst Patchwork, 30/30

EQUIPPED WEAPON: ACOLYTE WAND

ACOLYTE SPELL TOME, EQUIPPED

GOLD: 600

RATIONS: 2 Days

Empty Pocket

Empty Pocket

PROFESSION: Clothier

Level: 4

EXPERIENCE: 3580/5720

He was thrilled to see that his robe now had a durability of thirty, rather than the eighteen he’d had prior. While that wasn’t the same as armor, it would take almost double the beating his old robe would have, before being rendered useless.

Daos managed to find the courtyard with the well, after only two wrong turns. Three, if you counted the dead end he’d barely entered.

He decided not to count that one.

“Afternoon everybody,” Daos said in greeting, closing the door behind him.

Again, the room was lit by the fire behind Erlandra. She and Chopper were seated at the table, staring intently at the map of Velli Machia.

There were small pieces of wood placed atop the map, on the eastern side of the mountains. Chopper was moving the last piece into place.

So that’s DeathLag’s army, then.

Erlandra’s mouth quirked in amusement as she looked up to greet him.

Chopper pointed at him and laughed. “A right joker then, are ya? Goin’ to do some jugglin’ for us?”

“Is that a confirmed location, or just where we think they are?” Daos asked, ignoring the jab.

“He has a whole army to move. That’s where I’d estimate they’ve reached, give or take a day’s march. He likely already has scouts that have made it through the pass and reported back on the area’s movements, and there’s a chance he has a few plants here in Lyr,” Erlandra explained.

She may have killed him in the library, but Daos forced himself to accept that it had still been a game to him. She’d thought he was a regular player and acted according to her mission to rescue a guy being tortured. She was efficient, focused, and hadn’t let the loss of over one hundred levels of progression and power even slow her down, much less stop her.

He felt, he supposed, admiration begin to replace the resentment and frustration he’d held upon discovering that she was the friend Chopper wanted to start their resistance with. If she could maintain some semblance of herself, even if it was a new self, in this virtual world for all these years, then Daos could do the same.

Me. Daos. Matt’s gone.

He turned his attention back to the conversation.

“Might be that the guard could post somma dem make believe soldiers they hire here, at this outcroppin’”, Chopper suggested, placing a light block of wood near the drawing of a scout tower.

Erlandra nodded.

“No use,” Daos interjected. “Lyr is going to bend the knee and invite the army in.”

They looked up at him with disbelief.

“It’s true. I already had this conversation with Meister Atmos, head mage at the Academy and a member of the Council of Lyr. They voted on it yesterday.”

Erlandra had fire in her eyes, but Chopper shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

“Bollocks. That’s it then, innit?” the Irishman said.

“We can still rescue Frederic,” Erlandra said, the anger in her voice rising. “Stupid fucking locals! The ones who don’t die will just become slaves!”

She smashed her fist onto the table, sending many of the wood pieces scattering. A few rolled off and fell to the floor.

“Yes, we can. Yes, they will. But, that’s not necessarily it, Chopper.” He looked from Erlandra to his friend.

They both stared back at him, disbelief, hope, and interest all evident in their eyes.

“I’m in touch with the A.I.”

“Bullshit”, Erlandra said.

“Machiavelli?” Chopper asked.

Daos nodded. “He goes by Niccolo, with me.”

“You’ve actually seen him,” the rogue asked, eyebrows raised in skepticism.

“A couple of times. He asked for my help.”

“It.”

“He appears as a man, so I’m going with ‘he’. It makes talking about him easier.”

Erlandra crossed her arms in front of her. “I still call bullshit.”

“How do you think I wound up stuck in VMO, Erlandra?”

She studied him, her eyes narrowed in thought.

“Fuck. You’re telling the truth. Well why doesn’t it just wipe DeathLag the fuck out? Delete his code, or whatever. Throw in him into the infinite lava loop. Christ, he’s the fucking god of this world!”

Daos nodded through her rant. “I said the same things to him when he revealed his identity. Unfortunately, before he gained his, I don’t know, sentience I guess, the programmers had built most of his base code. There are certain things he simply can’t do. Permanently harming players or hindering their play, among them.

“But,” he continued before she could argue, “that doesn’t apply to us. DeathLag has already shown how much he can screw people over. Locals and Outsiders alike. So we’re forming a plan. This resistance can still happen, guys, but there are some steps we’ll have to take to make it work.”

They sat silently for a moment, considering his words.

Probably not every day they’re told someone they know talks to a god. It may still be earth shattering news for Chopper, but Erlandra is already forgetting the real world. She may give this news some emotional weight. He’s a legitimate god to the locals, after all.

Erlandra spoke first. “What do you suggest, then, Daos?”

It was the first time she’d used his name. He smiled.

“Chopper, do you trust Nilchi enough to bring him here?” Daos asked.

“Aye, he’s a right good lad, that one. Any issue taken if I send him an invite, ya?” he asked, turning to Erlandra.

She shook her head.

A moment later the gray featureless avatar of the admin stood next to the table.

“Is it safe to talk?” Daos asked, knowing Nilchi would understand the meaning.

He was silent a moment. “It is, now.”

“I found a way for you to meet with Machiavelli.”

“I’m listening.”

“In a few, we head to the graveyard. To the binding stone. There, something will happen that will cause me to transfer to an account in the Dim. At that moment, you’ll have the option to log in with my account and inhabit my body. Er, my avatar. You’ll log in as Daos, is what I’m saying.”

“The Dim isn’t available to players; programming was halted on it a long time ago.”

“First of all, I’m not a player anymore, am I? Second, Niccolo has been working on it in his spare time, as an underworld of sorts for the locals whose subroutines don’t need to be reassigned immediately after they die.”

“Well fuck me sideways,” Chopper interjected, leaning his chair back as he pushed against the table with one leg.

“Daos, there’s a good chance if you transfer accounts, you won’t be able to transfer back. That wasn’t coded into the game. One account, one avatar. That was always the plan, from the four pillars of the original design document,” Nilchi explained.

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do. I’m saying it’s literally impossible. The code for the procedure doesn’t exist, it was never written.”

“Never written by Outsiders.”

“Look, the A.I. has gone rogue and started affecting the world, we know that and are working on it, but to bypass part of the foundation of the game’s structure at that low of a level, I just don’t think it’s possible.”

“Niccolo said we’d only get one shot at it. It’s also the only way he’ll meet with you, since you tried to quarantine him before.”

If Nilchi felt any shame at that statement, the featureless avatar didn’t betray it.

“I have something to do in the Dim, anyway, so this is also my only shot to put a theory to the test.”

“What theory is that?” Erlandra asked, her eyes narrowing again.

“If I’m right, it’ll be apparent the second I get back. If I’m wrong, I’ll explain it later.”

He could tell she wasn’t happy with his response, but she didn’t push him further.

“Look, Nilchi. Jake. I’m no longer an Outsider. I’m arguably no longer even a person, by any legal standard that currently exists in… your world,” he said, feeling odd at describing reality as something now unavailable to him. “So the Dim? That’s something for the locals. I may not be a local, but I’m definitely somewhere in-between now. We all are.”

He motioned to Erlandra and Chopper.

“And so is DeathLag and the other members of the Alpha test group. Different rules may apply to us. We need someone on the outside who has the data-level view of what’s happening, if we’re going to have any chance of stopping him. Or at least of figuring out his plan.

“Look,” he continued, frustrated that he couldn’t read the admin’s expression to see if his words were having an impact. “If DeathLag succeeds, you probably lose your job, and we all die. Poof. Kaput. Ones become Zeros and nothingness takes over.”

He stopped and played the waiting game. I can stay silent as long as is needed. Come on, man, bite. Work something out with Niccolo. Help us. You helped Chopper, and your company won’t want DeathLag to succeed any more than we do, even if it’s for different reasons.

“Fine. I’ll log in with your account.”

“Well that’s just grand, innit?” Chopper said, clapping his hands together and standing.

“It’s monumentally stupid, what you’re attempting, but… it’s a plan, then,” Erlandra said, rising to join them.

“To the graveyard,” Daos said, turning to the door and then stopping. “Um, one of you lead, I don’t know where it is.”

**** **** ****

The graveyard was nothing like the one in Fyr. The first major difference was the number of above-ground tombs in all directions. There were two binding stones instead of one, with Valkyrie statues similar to those Daos had seen before.

Makes sense. Bigger city, more Outsiders.

Occasionally players would appear near the base of one in a flash of light that dimmed to reveal their avatars. They would immediately begin sprinting through the graveyard back into town.

Outsiders, so impatient. Running everywhere. I used to do that, didn’t I? Daos shook his head in amusement as he watched them.

The sun began to set.

“Outsider respawns are being redirected to the northern pillar for the moment. Assemble at the southern binding stone,” the voice of Niccolo spoke into Daos’s mind. He shuddered, still not used to it.

Is this what Joan of Arc felt like, then, hearing the voice of a god? I mean, fictional, or hallucination, whereas this is really happening… Isn’t it? Moving on!

“We need to head to the other statue,” Daos told the others.

Nilchi appeared as they arrived. Torches magically flickered to life throughout the grounds as the last of the sun’s rays waved their goodbyes beyond the rooftops of Lyr’s skyline.

There’s a lot of convenience here. A lot one could be grateful for, if approached with the right perspective. Amazing how much my perspective has changed in only a few days. Am I really going to risk it all with this Hail Mary plan?

The four of them gathered in a semi-circle in front of the Valkyrie, with Daos standing at its base.

Risking it all for the sake of the world. Sounds so heroic. Worthy of a story, an epic bard’s tale.

What am I really risking my existence for, though? Dimples. Freckles. Red hair. I could have sought those in the Outside world.

Why didn’t I? Why do I have no connections pulling at my heart, driving me insane with a need to escape? Am I simply practical enough to skip past that and recognize the need for this world to continue, so I continue?

Am I that numb?

Nadia is a series of ones and zeros. I was sad at her loss during the battle, but the best games have beloved characters die. The difference is, I’m a combination of binary digits now, as well.

Daos studied each of the other three faces for a moment, sparing only a glance at Nilchi’s featureless gray mug.

“Here we go.” Niccolo, I’m ready.

They nodded.

This is my new real, then. I’m coming, Nadia.

An intense pain filled Daos’s head, and he screamed. The world went black.

[You Have Died]

Daos opened his eyes.

The pain was gone, and gray greeted him. A gray nothingness stretched out forever through the vast expanse of space in front of him.

He looked down and was able to make out the same featureless gray modeling material that made up Nilchi’s avatar forming a path below his feet. It was different enough in its shade to let him see where it ended, and the nothingness began.

Looking left and right, he could see the path split off multiple times, all of them twisting and turning like the branches of a two-dimensional world tree.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no scent in the air. He glanced down at his robe and noticed the colors that had been so vibrant in the sunlight back in Lyr were muted as though the gray that surrounded him permeated the fabric itself.

Well, I made it. I’m here. If Niccolo is right and he can bring me back, I have two hours.

Daos picked a direction and started walking.

Locals whose clothing and flesh were just as muted, just as dim, ambled about in a daze, like zombies. Occasionally he heard a scream or shout from one of the other paths. If he looked across the expanse, he could see vague shapes moving about through the gray, which obscured everything like a fog of war, then becoming completely opaque after about ten feet.

“Excuse me,” he said, tapping the shoulder of an old woman who walked slower than the others.

She stopped at his touch, but her gaze remained distant as she stared straight ahead.

“I’m looking for someone. Red haired girl, about my age. Or a stout professor with a large nose. Ring any bells?”

Slowly she turned to look at him. It took her some time, as if she was trying to focus but failing. Daos waited, trying to keep impatience from showing on his face.

“Theodore, is that you?” she asked, reaching up to cup his cheek with her hand.

“I’m sorry miss, no. I’m not Theodore.”

“Oh,” she said, and Daos could see that he’d lost her. She slowly turned away from him and began walking again.

Okay. Not as easy as I thought it would be. Unfinished is accurate, but misleading. This isn’t even to alpha testing phase yet.

Daos walked, encountering varying levels of clarity and communication ability with those he came across.

I bet the longer you’re here, the more you begin to shut down and hibernate, so to speak. I need someone fresh. Someone who looks like they’re still capable of moving with purpose, someone who isn’t a full-on zombie.

Daos lost all sense of time as he walked, turning down path after path without concern for where he was in relation to anything else. There were no cardinal directions here, no way to discern where he was headed, only that he hadn’t circled back to where he’d begun.

There!

A short, robed man who’d been walking straight ahead stopped and tapped his foot, then began to pace back and forth, mumbling to himself.

Daos jogged up to him. “Excuse me,” he said, touching the man’s elbow to get his attention.

“Oric!” he exclaimed with a smile as he took in the pudgy features and bulbous nose.

“Daos?” he asked incredulously. “What, how?”

It seemed he couldn’t find his words, but Daos got the gist. “How is an Outsider here, in the Dim?”

The Meister nodded, dumbfounded.

“Suffice to say I made a deal with a god and we don’t have a lot of time. I’ll explain later, if my plan even works. Have you seen Nadia?”

He sputtered for a few more seconds before finally nodding again. “Yes, I don’t know how long ago. Moments? Days? How long have I been here?”

“By my count, four days, maybe five?”

“Really, that’s all, then? Everything is so dreary here, so hazy.”

“Nadia,” Daos snapped his fingers in the professor’s face as his eyes began to glaze over with a faraway look. “Where did you see her?”

“Oh, off that way,” he said, pointing to the right path from the fork where they stood.

“Come on then, let’s go.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry about it yet, just… come with me if you want to live,” Daos said, amusing himself with the quote from his dad’s favorite movie.

“But I’m not alive, am I? Daos how can you be here?”

Daos didn’t answer but grabbed the old man’s arm and hauled him forward down the path.

They walked for a time as the path weaved to the left, then the right. Each time they saw a figure ahead Daos felt his pulse quicken, but each time they approached he saw only a stranger.

“Are you sure it was this way?”

“No.”

Daos stopped and spun to face the Meister. “What? You said she was this way.”

“Everything is a blur in the Dim, Acolyte.”

“Keeper,” Daos corrected him without thinking.

“Oh!” Interest shone in the Meister’s eyes, bringing life back to his face that Daos hadn’t seen until now. He seemed to focus more. “What did you discover?”

They started walking again as Daos absently explained Chromamancy, his eyes constantly scanning for Nadia.

There!

He saw a clearly female form standing at the edge, staring out at the nothing. Not wanting to startle her for fear she’d fall, he tensed his muscles to be ready for a rush but approached slowly.

“Come here often?” he asked as he stepped up next to her.

“Hm?” she asked, turning to him.

It was Nadia. He’d found her. The gray dimmed her features, but he could still make out the freckles, and the red tint of the curls in her hair.

“I know you,” she said as if in a dream, the mental fog beginning to clear from her eyes. “Aye, the mage on the battlements. The one who thought buyin’ a weapon at a forge was a right good idea, even though I don’t make wands. Aff yer heid, I remember thinkin’ of ya.”

Daos grinned. “The very same.”

“Thought you were an Outsider for sure, aye, but here you are. Welcome to eternity, then,” she said, looking back out at the gray nothingness. “I was considering stepping off the ledge here. Pure dead brilliant, that thought. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Why would I want to wander around in a haze starin’ at nothin’, forever?”

“I…” I can’t argue with that, I suppose. Shit. “What if I could offer you a different solution?”

“Wander around in a haze with a mage and his wee professor, then?”

“Would that be so bad? But no, I had something else in mind.”

Her focus waned in and out, but she kept her eyes on him.

How much longer until I’m taken back? Will this even work?

“Okay, both of you, listen to me.” Daos stepped back from the ledge, forcing her to turn and face him, so Oric could see him as well.

“Who is the god of Velli Machia?” he asked.

“There are many. I assume you mean Machiavelli, though,” answered Meister Oric.

“Well, he’s how I’m here.”

“He’s how we’re all here,” Nadia replied as though she were explaining that water is wet to a child.

“Oh, so there are other Outsiders here?”

They stared at him. He wasn’t sure if they weren’t comprehending, or if they were confused, or if the gray had taken hold again.

“He talks to me,” Daos said. Wow that sounds stupid. “He sent me here, as part of a plan topworld that Chopper and I are working on. And I’m going to bring you back with me.”

“Yer at it, don’t be a wee clipe,” Nadia said, slapping his arm, hard.

I didn’t feel it. It would really suck being here long-term. Niccolo should devote more time to this place.

“I’m not at it,” he responded, taking her phrase to mean he was lying. “Think about it. It’s the only way I could be here. And I’m getting you out.” Okay, maybe now I’m lying.

“How?” Meister Oric asked.

Daos’s head began to hurt.

“Quick, take my hands, both of you!”

The gray turned to black.

[You Have D--%&@#%* // ERROR]

**** **** ****

Daos took a deep breath as he opened one eyelid, then the other, and saw the faces of Chopper and Erlandra hovering above him.

“Ow,” he mumbled, rubbing his head. I’m on the ground?

They each extended an arm to him, helping him to his feet.

He looked around excitedly, but they were the only three in the clearing. His shoulders slumped.

So that’s it, then? I really was a liar after all, and Nadia will probably step into the gray and be deleted.

Desolation threatened to prevail, but he forced himself to address his friends.

“Did it work? Was Nilchi able to talk to Niccolo?”

“I have no idea how you pulled it off, noob, but the admin talked to the goddamn god of this world, yeah.” Erlandra appraised him in a new light, despite calling him a noob.

“So, we’ve got eyes on the Outside, working with Niccolo. Step one complete, then.”

The news was good but didn’t manage to lift his mood.

Thirty-five years on the Outside and all I managed was the occasional fling. Less than a week here, and I’m head over heels for a local. This is starting to mess with my head, isn’t it?

“What was it like, then, hell?” Chopper asked.

“Purgatory is a better word for it, I think,” Daos said, shuddering as he thought of the endless shuffling through the fog.

“And what was your plan? Did you do whatever you needed to do there?” Erlandra asked.

Daos sighed. “Apparently I let my ego run wild and –”

He stopped as a scuffled sounded behind the winged statue.

“This is simply not possible,” a familiar voice said.

Oric! That means…

Out of the corner of his eye Daos saw Erlandra draw her blades just as Meister Oric stumbled around the side of the binding stone to face them.

“No!” he shouted to Erlandra. She looked at him worriedly but stood her ground.

“It worked!” Daos exclaimed. “Nadia?” he said, stepping to the side of the statue to peer around it.

“Aye, the one and only, somehow,” she said as she stepped out into the light.

“The blacksmith!” Chopper shouted with glee.

Daos turned to Erlandra as she studied him.

“You…”

“Brought them back,” he finished for her. “Yeah. A one-time deal, per Niccolo.”

“Ya weren’t shitin’ me, then?” Nadia said. “You talk to the gods?”

“One god,” he corrected her.

Both Oric and Nadia’s eyes widened.

“Where are we, then?” she asked.

“Lyr,” Erlandra said before Daos could answer. “And the two of you… I remember you. You’re from Fyr.” She looked sharply at Daos. “You’ve given up on Lyr, haven’t you? You’re going to rouse Fyr to our cause.”

“That,” Daos replied as he pointed at her, “is precisely the plan.”

Erlandra began to pace, tapping her lip with one finger. “Raise two of their own from the dead. Bring them back, the saviors of Fyr. Rally them against the invading army. It won’t be enough,” she said, stopping and turning to face him.

“It’s more than we have now.”

She stayed silent, unable to argue.

“I’m sorry, but what are we talking about?” The Meister asked, his hands fidgeting in front of his belly as he looked around the graveyard, as if still unsure that any of it was real.

“DeathLag is about to invade. Lyr is going to bend the knee. These three, and I hope you, are not,” a new voice said from behind them.

They all turned to see Niccolo, in his three-piece suit, standing there.

Nadia and Meister Oric fell to their knees, staring at the ground below them.

“Really?” Daos said, addressing Niccolo. “Need that kind of devotion, do you?”

Machiavelli smirked. “It’s in their code. I’m their god, after all. And, as a god, I’ve made a small adjustment to the code of their subroutines. Rise, rise,” he said, motioning with his hands for them to stand.

“They’ve been adjusted to a similar state as you,” Niccolo said, motioning to Daos, Erlandra, and Chopper. “In gratitude, for taking such a stupid risk so I could safely speak with Nilchi. They now have the ability to bind at binding points, like Outsiders.”

Everyone’s eyes widened, but Nadia’s and Oric’s jaws dropped open.

“It will take longer to respawn if they die, for balance purposes you understand, and I can extend this only to them. They will be the only locals to have this unique ability, bestowed upon them by a god.

“The developers saw what happened when you were sent to the Dim, and subsequently returned with two locals. They are suddenly interested, once more, in their shelved underworld project. They are already adding new code to the Dim.

“So, these two will become legends of Velli Machia. The only locals to gain a god’s favor and be granted Outsider abilities,” Niccolo finished.

Nadia and Oric dropped to their knees once more, bowing to Niccolo. The god smiled, apparently pleased with himself.

Daos snorted. I won’t be bowing to you, oh wonderous god. You’re why I’m here. I’ve accepted that, and am even embracing it. But don’t think I’ll be worshiping you. My kind made you.

“I’ll ignore that last part, Daos.” The god spoke in his mind, having read his thoughts. “Don’t forget, you’re here now, and I am unto you as a god. I did bring you here, that is true, but I don’t need your worship. You’re not part of my code. You are an amusing abnormality.”

Niccolo disappeared without fanfare, and the blacksmith and professor slowly rose to their feet, looking at Daos as though he had stepped from the pages of myth himself.

“Told you I wasn’t lying,” Daos said to Nadia with a wink.

“I see,” the professor said, looking oddly at Erlandra.

Erlandra had pulled out the runic history book and was paging through it, exuding impatience now that discussions with Machiavelli were done.

We need to rescue Frederic. She was patient with my scheme, now it’s time for hers.

“You…” Meister Oric said, pointing at Erlandra. He took a step toward her. “That book belongs to the Academy in Fyr.”

She held the book away and pulled a single dagger, holding it out with a steady hand. “One more step and I send you back to the Dim.”

“Woah there, let’s all relax and sit a spell, ya?” Chopper said, stepping between them and holding up his hands.

Nadia had stepped up next to Daos and watched apprehensively. He could see she was tense, ready to jump in if necessary. She was strong.

She touched his hand and whispered softly, “Is Roddard…”

“He’s okay. Survived the attack,” Daos whispered back. He smiled down at her before addressing the professor.

“How do you know that’s from Fyr?” Daos asked.

“Because I wrote it!” the old man replied with a huff.

Erlandra and Daos stilled, looking at each other as they came to the same conclusion.

“That means you’re,” he began.

“A Runic Scholar!” Erlandra finished excitedly.

“Naturally,” Meister Oric responded, standing a little taller.

“Well then, what say we get over to Atmos’ office, reunite two brothers, and get the actual author of Fyr’s finest tome on runic magic’s perspective on how to rescue Frederic?” Daos asked.

Erlandra and Chopper had already started back to the Academy before he could finish his speech.

So much for that, he thought with a mental chuckle.

“Thank you, Daos,” Nadia said softly as she fell into step beside him. “Everything is so hard to believe right now. I’m right stunned, I am.”

Love that Scottish accent. He offered his arm to her, which she accepted, and together they followed the Meister and his friends.