“This is going to require near perfect timing, you realize,” Midian spoke.

Rich blinked. “Midian? So you joined the guild after all?”

The elf gave him a puzzled frown, then her eyes widened. “Rich?”

“What did I miss?”

“What didn't you miss? Ah... Rotgoriel told me about the mirror. How you were cut off by the hatchlings.”

“Everything since then is a good start,” Rich said, turning around. He was atop the council building, and below him NPC's ran hither and yon, hauling buckets of water from the wells to the walls. In the distance vast pillars of smoke climbed skyward. “And that'll be the dragons, yeah?” Rich asked.

“So you have heard something. Well it's all over the net now so I'm not too surprised,” Midian said, folding her arms. “Oh, if any dragons come up and ask you to kill me or rampage with them tell them to fuck off and that I'm your pet, all right? It's been working so far.”

“So far... how many have come through?”

“There were about a dozen the first hour, but now things have calmed down. All of them were headed east, away from the anomaly.”

“Anomaly? Let's start with that. No, let's stick with the original plan and start with everything since I lost the mirror call. What's going on?”

“I wish I knew. And the anomaly is the start of all this. It's the catalyst, it kicks things off, and I just don't know what's causing it. If it weren't such an absolute barrier I could go back in time and have a look, but I need to be onsite for that, or around someone who was involved with the event, and we just don't have one of those.”

“You can do that?” Rich turned to look at her full-on. “Go back in time? Actually go back?”

“Kind of. I can't interfere with anything that happens, or really affect much. The most I've managed to do is send myself a message, but that's not an easy task.”

Possibilities bloomed in Rich's mind... and a sudden, sneaking suspicion.

“When I was eleven, you invited me to your Neverquest guild. Just like that, out of the blue.”

“Ah. Yes.” Her smile was sad. “Though I didn't understand why I had to do that at the time, I trusted that my future self knew what she was doing.”

Rich blew air out through his mouth. “This changes everything. This is...” he shook his head. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“The message was short and didn't go into much detail. I didn't know myself. Not until I started receiving messages a few days ago. And I still don't, because they're not about you. But I can deduce some of what's going on from them.”

“What did they say?”

She hesitated. “Why did you wait to log in for so long?”

“I was being watched. Does the name Analog ring a bell?”

Her eyes went wide. “Ah. And you're not being watched now?”

“I probably am. But by Legion. He got us away from Analog, and cleared their bugs. But I don't have a guarantee he isn't watching right now.”

She nodded, pursed her lips. “Then you'll understand when I say I don't think I want to tell you what exactly my future self's messages had to say. But I can tell you one thing that might help, one thing that's been bothering me; the last message I have from my future self was sent directly to my real-world relay. Not through Generica. To the real-world, from points unknown. And what's weirder? I've used just about every asset I have to try and track down where exactly this message came from, and I simply can't. It's as if it just appeared out of the ether. And who knows? Maybe it did.”

“Or maybe you used my mirror,” Rich said.

“That's a possibility, too. Either way, I need to be with you for this next part. Whatever that is.” she shook her head. “But you wanted to know what's been happening. Well that part's easy...”

She filled him in, on the wall of nothingness and the dragonraid.

“From what I saw it's hitting mostly east of here,” Rich said. “They're mainly blaming the Warmers, and everyone else is either fallout or guilty by association. There are still battles elsewhere, but this is the core of it.” He snorted. “In a way it's good. They were going to roll us up like a cheap rug, once their armies got here. Now they have bigger problems. And if what Legion told me is true, then we'll be good in the end. All we have to do is outlast them long enough and their code will shift until... well I don't know what will happen eventually, but they seem afraid of it. They'll probably be harmless.”

“Probably is one of those words that I don't like so much,” Midian said. “I think we need to figure out what's going on. We need the big picture.”

“Well, at the core of it all, there's an elder god trying to eat—”

“Not that,” Midian said, whipping a hand up. “I mean how things got this way to begin with. Why is this an alternate dimension that works like a game? Why is it connected to our world? What's the end purpose, here?”

Rich sighed. “I don't know. Something's gone to a lot of trouble to get people 'playing' this. My best guess is that it's got something to do with dragons, because of Konol and because of the process of elimination. They're the only creatures which don't seem to be afflicted with that mind fog when players are around.”

“Dragons. All right. That meshes with some of the clues I've found.”

“I'd be interested to hear those, because all of my leads have been a dead end. The one ancient dragon I spoke with didn't have a clue about Konol, and I'm pretty sure Konol's at the heart of this.” A thought tugged at the back of his mind. “He did know something about draggits, though. I never followed up on that.”

“Draggits?”

“I had... Rotgoriel had this little guy, like a dragon munchkin following him around. He was a minion, more or less. Could grovel with the best of them. From what I learned, his people were career minions, the dragons used them as slaves and threw them away when they were used up. It was pretty horrible stuff.”

“It sounds like it. Something like kobolds then.”

“Kind of?” Rich frowned. “Then when he got a high enough level, he ranked up into something that looked like a draconic version of a velociraptor. A lot deadlier and crankier, but still a good guy.”

“This might be significant. Can I meet him?”

“Ah... probably not. He got another rank up, and turned into something like a dragon's egg. We installed his dungeon down below here, not far from my lair.”

“That's interesting, because Rotgoriel brought up a dungeon earlier today. He sent the players in the guild to go hold someplace called the Tomb of the First Emperor.”

“Ah! Yeah, we need that. That's a good call, I'm glad he did that. That's where the breach is—”

“Yes, but tell me more about this draggit dungeon,” Midian interrupted, whipping her hand up for the second time.

She doesn't want me talking about that part of things, Rotgoriel wondered. Why?

The answer came to him after a second.

Legion could be listening right now.

But... was it truly that much of a problem?

“Tell me about Legion first, then we can talk about Geebo,” he said, hearing the caution in his own voice.

“Geebo?”

“The draggit,” Rich said, fixing his gaze on her eyes. “But let's discuss Legion.”

“That's a year or two in of itself,” Midian said, meeting his gaze unblinking. “But I can give you the short version. When you're an immortal creature of pure intellect, philosophies become important. You can't just focus on the day-to-day, like humans do, or you end up eventually going mad. You have to live for something.”

“And what do you live for?” Rich asked. “What keeps you going?”

“I'm a Humanist. We try to live one lifetime at a time. We create an identity, and spend as much time as possible living as that identity. We age it, we have developments, we build networks of friends, and we try to experience as much of it as possible. There are things we can't do, of course, but it's not as hard as you'd think. The rise of ECHOs means that online life is easier than ever before.”

“So... what's the endgame, there? No offense, but what's the long-term plan for this?”

“The endgame is that there isn't one. We'll get to experience life with the majority of humanity, until such time as we can openly exist with our creators. Some of us already do, in places that are more open-minded about such things. But that's a story for another time.”

“And Legion?”

“Legion is a Sensationalist. His belief is that human lives are just one experience to be had in a world full of experiences. He wants to do it all. No more, no less.”

Rich nodded. “He told me once that this world was a chance to live life as he wanted.”

“It is. How many more experiences do you think are available here? This place has magic. And a hell of a lot more species and possibilities than our own world. Well, maybe not once we get into space, but that's a good ways off.”

“So his goal isn't necessarily evil, just making sure he does everything he can over here?”

“Yes. Which is why it's fortunate that this so-called dragon apocalypse won't end the world. That would interrupt Legion's fun, and I don't know what he would do to stop that. I have the feeling he would overreact.”

Rich got the message. Saying the wrong thing while Legion was listening could bring chaos to an already unsettled situation.

Feet on the stairs, and Rich looked up to see Pat and Greg hurrying down, pulling on their armor. Greg's was a full suit of plate mail, glowing with golden light, and worked with runes so fine and crammed together that they looked like solid lines from a distance. Pat's was simpler, a chain hauberk with holy symbols of Nurph dangling from it, quick talismans with one-and-done spells in each.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said as he pulled his mitre on, and fussed with the chin strap. “I had like a million messages and people waiting to talk with me. I need to get over to that Tomb and get shit organized. Word leaked and we've got PVPers coming in hot.”

“Already? Hell,” Rich gnawed his lip. “Wait. Wait, before you do that. I need a promotion. It's way past time I broke that level twenty-five barrier.”

“I was wondering when you'd make your mind up. It's been forever, dude.”

“I was waiting to see if dragon capped at twenty-five. But I'm thinking it's going to have another years-long rank up, so it won't help me in the now regardless of whether or not I can power through it. But the other two, yeah. I need to pick one.”

“Well? Which is it, then? Cultist or Cleric?”

Rich took a deep breath, and tried to shove away his trepidation. He'd thought this over long and hard, and come to the conclusion that they were probably equally useful.

Since guilds had burst onto the scene, the websites had filled up with information from people who had pierced the barrier of twenty-five. And even though the Bharstool Warmers had cracked down and tried to prevent people from unlocking Guildmaster, enough players had persisted that the mechanics of promotion were pretty well understood.

Rich could choose one job, and all the experience that he had earned for it since he'd gotten to level twenty-five would be retroactively applied. In his case, he was pretty certain that whichever one he chose, he would be well past level thirty. Which was important, because every five levels past twenty-five you got a unique skill. The skill you got seemed related to what you'd been doing with the job, and what you were trying to achieve, overall.

On the one hand it was motivation to push forward and hit those levels as fast as possible. Unique skills, perfectly tailored to you and your playstyle? That was a draw for any gamer.

On the other hand, it could be frustrating as hell, to perfectionists and power gamers. The system decided what you got, and if you spent a year gaining easy experience through farming low-level mobs, then the system might decide that instead of a special melee attack that could increase your odds against bosses, you deserved something that let you farm low-level mobs more efficiently.

You very much reaped what you had sown. And that was the deciding factor. He'd had two weeks out of the game to think about it, and a couple of mirror calls to talk it over with Rotgoriel, and he felt his decision was solid.

“Cleric. All the way,” Rich decided.

Greg nodded. “Good choice. Hope it works. You think it'll help with Kon—”

“We're not talking about that right now,” Rich interrupted.

“Whatever. Okay. Let's get this done, we've got shit to do,” Pat decided. “Promote Rutger to Fifty.”

“Cleric,” Rich confirmed, and the floodgates burst, as long-delayed power rose within him once more.

You are now a level 26 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You are now a level 27 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You are now a level 28 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You are now a level 29 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You are now a level 30 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You have learned the Divine Healing skill!

You are now a level 31 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

You are now a level 32 Cleric!

CON+3

LUCK+3

WIS+3

“The same for me, please,” Midian asked.

“Sure, sure. Promote Midian to Fifty.” Pat smiled, and headed towards the door. “You're welcome. Good luck, guys.”

Greg followed, drawing his sword and giving it a few test cuts. “Damn, it feels good to be here again. Come on, let's go kick some ass. You coming, Rich?”

Rich didn't respond. He was too busy reading his new skill.

It was deceptively simple.

Divine Healing

Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant

All of your beneficial skills and spells may now affect divinities, bypassing their natural immunities.

“This is bizarre,” he whispered to himself... but was it, really? The majority of his Clerical skill usage had gone toward putting people back together, himself or others. He had played hard support with it, and done a good job overall, he thought.

But was this even useful? How could he use this to save Konol? Well, he could heal the guy if it came down to a fight with the elder god. If he was close enough. If a few hundred HP a shot would even make a difference in the first place.

Rich shook his head. “I'm going to need some time to make sense of this.”

“Yeah. Well we don't have time,” Pat said. “We just got word that the first masked assholes are showing up at the tomb. Are you coming?”

Rich closed his eyes. “No. Not yet. There's something I need to do first. Go on without me.”

Pat shrugged. “Okay. You're one of our big force multipliers, especially with Aggy gone. But okay man. I hope you know what you're doing. Good luck.”

“You too.” Rich stretched out an arm for an oversized fistbump, and Pat tapped his knuckles against huge, scaly fingers.

“So. Geebo?” Midian asked, after they were gone.

“Let's do this. I am in desperate need of answers, and hopefully, just hopefully he has them...”