24

Charles tried to get back to reading the book, in an attempt to steer his mind away from unwanted thoughts. His eyes kept skimming through the words, but their meaning was lost to the dusty air of the place. The contents of the book echoing like in an empty room, his mind absent from there.

The author of the book did not seem like he wanted to convey anything but a heavy anti-arcane propaganda, while elevating the system to a godly status. Reading such words was so similar to reading certain pieces of religious literature. A thing that, even discarding everything else, irritated Charles to no end. There was no such thing as a savior in the universe, nobody who in their infinite goodness would ever be willing to help others for free.

The best one could hope for was that one of the architects of the simulation wanted to have some fun, or to debug it and used their infinite power over their creation to fix things with just a few lines of code.

He smiled to himself, and observed his own thoughts wander off on their own in fascination. The simulation hypothesis always came to his mind, one way or another, completely unwanted. It was depressing, it was sad, and it was annoying just how powerless it made him feel. If he truly was just one cog in an infinity matryoshka machine, then why even bother?

The answer was pretty obvious. It was because he didn’t want to accept that; he didn’t want to resign to a status where his whole existence was devoid of redemption. Humans had the means to elevate themselves to gods, using technology and knowledge, and nobody would ever take that away from him. Nobody but the simulation hypothesis. And he knew that.

Stupid thoughts, stupid conclusions. Depressing, yes, but by Occam’s razor they were to be ignored. Unprovable meant meaningless, in science. Nothing more than some random metaphysical regurgitation, an excess of science picked up and abused by philosophers with nothing better to do. And by himself who, in a supreme act of self-sabotage, sometimes liked to hurt his own feelings with this kind of musings.

He closed his eyes, and cleared his mind. The thoughts of simulations and infinitely powerful aliens slowly faded, even though never completely, from his mind. He was in a universe, immersed in magic and a system that was almost the tangible proof of his inner demons. But he didn’t want to dwell on that, not yet. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t feel ready. And he felt that, maybe, he would never be.

And so, he let even those thoughts go, and was left with a serene state of mind that lasted for a fleeting, yet refreshing second. Eereen’s words echoed in his mind: the system wanted him dead and someone was surely after him.

Almost prophetic, those words. Because he felt a slight tingle, a strange sensation he could not quite put his finger on. He felt that something was wrong, and he didn’t like it. He felt the AI in his brain stir, the mechanical calculations that always ran in the background take on some color, come to be much more agitated, excited, worried. Alive.

With the suit at full power, there was nothing that could hide from him. A pulse of imperceptible sound radiated outwards from his position, a technique plagiarized by the echolocation the bats use, and repurposed for the task at hand.

There it was, something that was not there before, perfectly hidden in the shadows. Then, something moved. The air was not quite right, the low metallic swing of a blade reaching his now enhanced senses.

A knife is coming at you from 112°, -3°; 7 meters out; 14m/s.

The LAI suggested a course of action, and he took it, trusting the machine intelligence completely. He turned around, impossibly fast, and his arm moved almost imperceptibly until it aligned with the path of the blade. He opened and closed the fingers, plucking the knife out of the air as if it was just suspended there.

He looked at it. Dark handle, polished steel blade, deadly sharp. This weapon was meant to kill him, thrown with incredible accuracy so that it would hit him where it hurt most. He switched to combat mode, the LAI complying and overlaying tactical holograms to his vision while removing any unnecessary clutter.

The room assumed a slight blue hue, the refraction from the holos creating dancing shadows where there were none before. A risk that was necessary to take, because his life was at stake.

His eyes scanned the room, viciously, furiously looking for something that moved again. He had not yet taken out his gun, instead aiming to inflict pain with the very same weapon that was supposed to kill him. In the darkness, a red silhouette appeared. The LAI had found the thrower, and several possible attack vectors were now highlighted. Charles grinned, and threw the knife.

The soft sound of pistons compressing, then the knife disappeared. It impacted the wall, coming at it at least three times faster than how it had been originally thrown. The red shape was not there anymore, moving around the room in a blur.

From behind, another blade came towards him. He could sense it, somehow.

Dodge.

He dodged, spinning his body and dancing around the path of the thrown weapon. He plucked it as well, and with one spin he sent it back where it came from. A wooden impact, and some splinters on the ground.

Behind.

He ducked, and produced his gun from the ring. His face contorted in concentration as the perceived threat of these enemies increased. A dark shadow passed by him, just over his head, and landed on the stone floor before jumping away again. It disappeared in the darkness, along with the other two.

“Where are you, goddammit!” Charles yelled, looking around the room with his gun pointed.

Several more blades came from the shadows, and he sidestepped and dodged them all with ease. They were big, red and slow chunks of holograms, thanks to his LAI. He could feel the adrenaline working its chemical magic, and the LAI added a twenty times multiplier over his already level-enhanced mind. The world moved a hundred times slower than it should have, allowing him all the time he needed to think.

He kept scanning the room, faintly registering the fact that Eereen was now here as well. He knew that he could not keep up this dilated time perception forever, and even acknowledged passingly all the irony that such a sentence carried with it. Eereen was standing low and looking feral; she was aware of the attack. This much was enough, and Charles kept searching for enemies.

A flash of red, then a loud bang that shook the whole library. Dust rose as one entire section of the wall exploded, the impact not slowing down the projectile at all. It kept going, punching though the walls until it pierced the outer one. A few bricks crumbled, and light flooded in.

A scream, coming from above. He turned and intercepted the figure of a man before he could land a hit on his back. The enemy impacted on Charles’ arm like a wooden log, and was sent flying back. As he landed, he disappeared again.

“A skill.” Charles muttered. The LAI set aside a small computational process to copy it, an automatic response.

Steps on wood, from the left. Then a bookshelf moved and fell, and the air was disturbed by the movement of a body. It was invisible, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Charles fired another shot at full power, pulverizing several bookshelves and punching a hole in the ceiling.

Bricks fell once again, but no traces of the assailant.

They came at him, from three sides, all at once. They appeared out of nowhere, undetected even by the LAI this time.

He looked at the tactical display, pupils widening slightly, and felt the adrenaline come.

“Suit at full power, prediction algorithms active.” He said.

Then he swung his weapon, horizontally, sweeping the air. The three enemies dodged, one by jumping and two by ducking, and counterattacked. He felt the knives try to stab into his suit, failing. He turned towards one of the stabbers, and punched him. The fist connected, and the man was sent flying away and landed on a table, breaking it.

Turning around, Charles stopped another blade directed at his face this time, catching it with his gloved hand. He twisted it and felt the knife slip from the grip of the cloaked attacker, then he used it to club his head. The sound of bone cracking reverberated.

The enemy he punched away was no longer there, he noticed. The third was gone as well. He prepared the gun to shoot at the only one that he could still see, the fallen one, but before he could send the command to fire he felt a foot on his back, and was sent flying to the ground.

He landed hard on his face, and immediately got up. The movement felt stiff, like his body was now heavy and tired. He staggered, then his suit helped him steady his step as he looked around once again. The room seemed empty now. Eereen was there, bow and quiver at the ready, but seemed to have the same problem as he. There was no trace of the enemies.

Three blades. Two he dodged, but the third hit him in the back. It penetrated a few millimeters of armor, something that should not have been possible. It sent a shiver of pain and thrill in his back. Fear, as well.

It was time to let the real fight begin.

Grinning wickedly, he turned to face the dark unmoving shadows.

“Good, very good.” He said smiling, his tone playful and chipper. Then his expression fell, and his voice turned solemn. “Playtime’s over, though.”

He took a stance, and then motioned for them to come at him. The gesture mocking and dismissive. At the same time, he gave orders to the LAI.

“Kill two, leave one alive. Be quick, be efficient.”

Understood.

Assuming control of body. Scanning surrounding area with full suite of sensors. Projectiles detected, throwing knives, dilating perceived time and dodging. Dodge successful, reset. Scan reveals two enemies, expecting attack from third with suppressive fire from the others. Preparing guard with left arm, preparing to shoot with weapon in right hand. Enemy approach detected, updating response profile. Incapacitate, shoot at the others.

Eereen watched the fight from afar. Of the three enemies, one used his invisibility to come at Charles from behind, to take him by surprise. The attempt failed, however, and he smashed into his elbow and was sent tumbling to the ground.

Charles approached him, looking at him with his now cold and detached eyes. As he got closer, he raised his gun and shot at one of the others, without even looking. The boom was loud and powerful, her sensitive ears ringing.

But when the dust settled, a mangled body was left there, split in two with a hole in the wall just behind. At the same time, Charles stomped his foot and broke the legs of the assassin on the ground, who yelled in pain and tried to free himself to no avail. It was like trying to move a mountain. A punch in the face, and he was unconscious.

“Where are you—” Charles called, and scanned the room with meticulous care.

He spotted the last one, who was soon forced to dance around the broken shelves in a hail of bullets. He managed to avoid getting hit, but with every shot Charles seemed to be better able to predict where to fire.

A backflip in the air, then the assassin tried to throw a kick. Charles caught his foot with his hands, the gun clanging on the stone of the floor, discarded. He twisted the foot, but the assassin managed to land on his feet and jump away.

Charles grunted, and a large stone appeared in his hand. Out of the ring, to use as a weapon, she knew. He threw it, and it exploded in splinters and dust against the ceiling. The assassin came from behind this time, appearing from the shadows.

“Ha!”

The gun appeared from nowhere, only now did Eereen notice that he had pulled it back into the ring while he threw the rock, and the barrel hit the cloaked man in the face.

It broke bone and teeth, and sent the man back like a ragdoll. But, as he rolled on the ground backwards, he disappeared again.

He appeared. A loud boom. Blood everywhere. A dead body.

“As predicted. Easy.” Said Charles, and then he turned to face her. “Keep an eye on that one,” he said indicating the unconscious enemy. “I’ll be right back.” He continued, and walked out of the hall and into one of the rooms, shutting the door behind him.

Coming from behind the door, thanks to her elven earing, she could hear muffled cries of pain and curses. The clang of metal, and a relieved sigh. Minutes passed, while the scene repeated itself. He was muttering curses against the assassins and the system, while at the same time tampering with his suit and his flesh. Each time crying out in pain, but never louder than a grunt.

Ten minutes later he was out. Bloodied and dirty, his raven black hair wet from sweat and his unkept beard trickled with blood.

“Are you alright?” Eereen asked.

“I… they fucking did a number on me, didn’t they? This, this was dangerous you know? That stab hit me just a few millimeters shy of my spine. Know what could have happened? This world, this place. It’s not as simple as I had thought. Why had I been so stupid? So impulsive? What the fuck is wrong with me!”

He looked at the unconscious assassin on the ground. “Let’s wake this ninja guy up.”

A torrent of icy cold water appeared from his ring, and splashed both him and the so-called ninja. Charles exhaled in pleasure at the cold water, while the unconscious man coughed and jerked until he woke up.

Charles aimed the gun. “Slow down there, buddy.”

The assassin froze. Then, he laughed. A coarse, raspy laugh between coughs of blood and gasps for breath. He muttered something.

“What did you say?” Charles asked, and approached the man. He got on his knees and pulled his head close to him.

Eereen heard the words just fine.

“Arcanist.” The assassin spat. “You will never… have me… alive…”

Then, he died. Foam on his mouth; poison.

“No!” Charles shook the man’s corpse. “You have to tell me!” He punched its face. “I need to know; you have to tell me! Who sent you? Why? Why did you call me arcanist?”

Silence. The man was dead, and dead men tell no tales.

Charles punched the floor hard, the stone slab cracking and pulverizing below his knuckles.

Eereen approached Charles, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

But he didn’t answer, only looking at the expression of the dead man. Frozen in death, a mocking grin plastered on his mouth.

“Arcanist.” Charles muttered.

“Arcanist…” He repeated the word again and again.

“The system. A war, a fucking war in its name. Like a religion, like a cult. How many died, how many persecuted? What is wrong with this place? What is the system, what lies beneath those letters you all see?”

He was shivering, face covered in sweat, words flying away from his mouth like they were trying to escape. A hand on his forehead, he was feverish.

He felt like in that Chinese proverb. He had eyes, and yet he did not see Mount Tai. Not until now.

“Others. Otherworlders like me, Giona said. The very first thing he told me, and yet I ignored it. Why?”

He grabbed Eereen’s arm. His grip was strong, shaking, and weak at the same time.

“Eve! Where is she? Eve! Where are you? I need you! What is this place? I am so alone! I’m scared! What is the system? What does it want from me! Eve!”

His eyes closed. Darkness took him.

Protocol 24 phase 1: completed.

User permission granted: access report.

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Constructing simulation space.