16

Degradation

When Rian set foot into the town, he opened his map and looked for the equipment shop. Finding it, he headed toward the port, where there was a small shop just beside the area where new players landed in the town.

The shop was cozy and rather empty, to his surprise; there was no line at all. He stepped up to the counter. Behind it stood a tough looking woman with a scar over her right eye and an eye patch over the other. “Nice shades,” she said, leaning over with one arm on the counter. “What’ll it be, adventurer?”

Corvis floated past Rian, then past the shopkeeper, and started inspecting the items on the wall.

“What a shame,” Corvis said. “I remember this woman. She was once a soldier.” He landed soundlessly beside her, blinking a few times as he gazed, unnoticed, at the side of her face up close. “Arelia. One of the commanders in the Battle of Gorgheit.”

Rian stared at her, and she seemed to react, peering closer at him in return. He didn’t see her level floating above her, but he did see the “NPC” signifier.

Corvis caressed her cheek. “And now she’s nothing more than a lowly shopkeeper, doling out mediocre equipment to piddling off-worlders. I wonder, if I had taken both of your eyes that day, who would be here in your place?”

Whoa, what? Despite being incapable of sweating in-game, Rian nonetheless felt himself flush with heat. Did he seriously…?

And here he’d been trying to make friends with this guy.

Rian nervously took off his sunglasses and averted his gaze. Behind the counter was a huge grandfather clock with gold hands, ticking away. On the wall beside it was assorted equipment: helms, short swords, daggers, brass knuckles, bows and arrows, bucklers, and breastplates. The price and stats of each appeared as he looked.

Suiting up in full armor was probably a good idea, but he didn’t see the point in splurging on new equipment if it was going to be replaced in a few levels. The forests on the way to Elmguard weren’t all that treacherous, despite the Runeknight encounter—which he had a feeling was entirely optional despite having stumbled into it. A few improved stat points weren’t going to make much of a difference either way.

So he compromised with himself and settled on just one: an armor top. And a pair of brass knuckles while he was at it. Having a back-up weapon wouldn’t hurt. The stats on it were less than what his level one short sword had been, but that was fine. The knuckles were probably faster and easier to use, which would make up for the lesser weapon-attack value.

He inspected the items.

Beginner’s Bonded-Leather Breastplate (Level 5)

Grade: D (Common)

Armor +3

Price: 45g

Brass Knuckles (Level 5)

Grade: D (Common)

Weapon ATK +3

Price: 25g

Arelia acknowledged his interest and took the items down from the wall. When Rian reached into his pocket for the gold, it appeared inside a burlap pouch all on its own. He handed it over, and Arelia gently tossed it into the air.

Rian flinched as a white hawk-like creature darted through the air and caught the pouch in its claws. The hawk carried it over to a scale behind the counter and set the pouch on it. A series of gears clanked and ticked before a counting mechanism incremented along a slider, ascending and pointing to the “70” marker along its length.

“Yeah,” Arelia said, disinterested, “we have to do it the old-fashioned way, unlike you fancy off-worlders. Can’t just reach into our pockets and know how much money we’re holding.”

She placed the breastplate and brass knuckles onto the counter and slid them toward him. There was a cloth shirt attached underneath the breastplate, which was good—a sleeveless garment would’ve been a disaster, revealing the Mark on his left shoulder. He almost regretted his choice in equipment right then.

Rian hesitated, wondering how the hell he was supposed to equip armor. But before he could over-think it, as he went to pick up the item, it became shrouded in light—then vanished and reappeared on his body with sudden weight.

+2 Armor (2→4)

On the counter, his Beginner’s Tunic had appeared in place of the breastplate.

As he twisted around to look at the armor, he found that it didn’t restrict his movement all that much.

“Is that all for you?” Arelia said.

“Actually, there’s one more thing.” Rian pocketed the brass knuckles and then retrieved his broken sword. He laid the hilt on the counter. “How much would it cost to repair this?”

“Less than buying a new one.” She held her hand over the melted stub of the blade. “Just twenty. I can even upgrade it for you, free of charge.”

Rian retrieved the gold and, finding that they were loose, set the coins on the counter. The white hawk returned, leaping off the scale to come inspect the coins. It was four-winged and eyeless, yet it appeared to gaze down at the gold.

Arelia counted the coins in a flash and scooped them up before resting her hand on the blade. She closed her eyes. A golden aura surrounded her hand, tendrils of illuminated smoke rising and withering.

Rian glanced aside at Corvis, who was motioning for his attention. He pointed toward the huge antique clock standing against the wall behind the counter. Rian looked up.

The clock’s hands weren’t moving anymore.

As the light surrounding Arelia’s hand faded, the clock hands returned to motion, and the eyeless hawk fluttered its wings as if startled.

When Rian looked again, the sword was whole—like it had never been destroyed in the first place.

“Time magic, I’m sure you can tell,” Corvis said. “Repairing items the old way is such an expensive endeavor when you can simply turn things back to the way they were.” He held the tips of his index fingers together and peered aside at Arelia. “Alas, not everything can be restored so easily.”

Rian picked up the short sword, half-expecting a notification to pop up that he’d obtained an item, but nothing happened. He nodded in understanding. He wasn’t obtaining an item; it still belonged to him because he hadn’t transferred ownership, by trading or however else it was possible. That was a bit odd to think about, that everyone had explicit ownership of their items.

When he inspected the sword, the stats were indeed different.

Beginner’s Short Sword +4 (Level 1)

Grade: C (Uncommon)

Weapon ATK +6

When he compared it to the level five sword on the wall, the stats were equal. Cool deal.

He checked his inventory: he’d gotten away with 45 gold remaining. The one tesseract that comprised 100 gold had transformed back into coins when he’d reached into his pocket.

“Good luck, adventurer,” Arelia said, flipping a gold coin toward him. He caught and pocketed it. “Show those bastards what you’re made of.”

She turned to open the clock and adjust its hands forward.

Rian stepped outside, not quite able to shake off the sense of foreboding that was settling upon him.

Walking onto the pier outside of the shop, Rian shielded his eyes against the sun and its reflection against the sea. He re-equipped his aviators, then saw a ship that was at rest in the port. It was another of the vessels carrying newly arriving players, who were already exiting onto the pier and forming a giant crowd. It was exactly as he remembered it, just a few hours ago, but—

From this angle, he could see a gathering of Altirian priests on the other side of the ship, gone unnoticed by the players who were eagerly approaching the town. The priests were wheeling a coffin off the deck and onto a pier beside it, where there was an entire row of similar coffins. A few of the priests had gathered around one—with a body inside it.

A priests turned away from the open coffin, walked to the end of the pier, lifted a hand and spread his fingers. Rian could barely hear him over the wind and waves and the receding crowd of new players.

“Please adjust your appearance as desired,” the priest intoned.

A few seconds passed, and when the priest turned around, his eyes were glowing with light. He stepped up to the body inside the coffin and placed his hand over its face. The same glow within his eyes spread from his hand, and Rian swore that he could see the body’s features changing as the priest’s hand moved along it.

“Save changes?” the priest intoned. “Please note that your appearance cannot be changed except cosmetically.”

The feeling of ice through his veins—Rian felt it. Imagined it. But it was all the same.

Someone grabbed his hand and pulled him away. When he turned his head, it was Corvis, walking on the ground for once.

“Best not to think about it too much,” Corvis said, looking up at him and smiling.

Rian stopped, pulled his hand free and stared. “I…I don’t understand,” he stuttered, shaking. “I thought this was just a game, but—”

“Of course it’s a game.”

“No, not like that. Those priests were chanting system messages for new players. It was the same, during character creation—”

“Altirian priests are rather dangerous,” Corvis said, “so I don’t blame you for—”

“No,” Rian said. “Shut up. Stop talking.” He rubbed his temples before running his hands through his hair, not nearly as surprised that he could feel it now. “Oh my god, don’t tell me this means what I think it means.”

He’d tried his best to ignore the signs, passing them off as being peculiarities of the game, but what he’d just seen wasn’t something he could ignore. At first he’d thought every self-aware bit of the game was just the way Mirage was built.

But those priests were wheeling the bodies of players onto that ship. And they could create system messages. They were in control of the system itself.

Which meant this wasn’t a game. Not if there was no need of a game system, on a computer, to operate the world. Mirage wasn’t a virtual game at all.

He really was in an alternate reality, transported here by the headset itself—a conduit between one world and another. And he was inhabiting a body that one of those priests had created. He really was a vessel.

Rian brought up his virtual keyboard and tabbed into guild chat. He curled his fingers back, then held them over the keys, hesitating.

“I know I’ve warned you before,” Corvis said, tightening one of his gloves, “but take caution before you do something especially stupid.”

Rian shook his head. He’d held off on this for long enough. As long as he was clever about it, he could avoid exposing himself and his situation.

He started typing.

: so uh, is it just me, or does this game not seem like not just a game

: what do you mean

: I dunno, it just…seems too real to be a game. It doesn’t feel like one, you know?

: of course it’s just a game lol

: the AI can be really convincing sometimes tho. Hell, I was fooled too when I started playing

: cool, so it’s not just me

: but…I keep seeing stuff that seems out of place, like there’s an in-world explanation for how there are so many players here and stuff. Like even the NPCs seem to know that they’re in a game. It doesn’t seem like something an MMO would normally do

: yeah, it’s just how Reflect-Sys structures their games. They tend to write eccentric stuff for their worlds

: I’d say they really went all out for this one imo. There’s some really robust technology behind Mirage. I don’t blame you for getting swept up in it Cob :p

Feeling drained, Rian sighed. Maybe he’d been overreacting, earlier. It was reassuring to hear the guild’s take on things, but he was also slightly embarrassed.

Of course Miracia wasn’t some kind of hidden world that everyone had been transported to. It was just some code running inside a computer—a really, really strong computer, but that didn’t change the reality of his situation. It had caught him off-guard; that’s all. A quantum computer could run a game as vast and complex as Mirage, but that didn’t mean it was some kind of magical portal device. If the Altirian priests were actually creating system messages for players, that just meant they were coded to make it seem like they were in control of the game. It was probably part of their lore.

Everything had a logical explanation, even if he didn’t immediately see that explanation or understand everything right away. Hell, his consciousness existing right now was apparently only because of the game’s code and its underlying engine.

That was a rather weird thought, and not one he felt totally ready to approach again.

: so uh, random thought

: say someone got stuck inside the game and couldn’t log out

: ugh here we go again

: hahahaha Cob, you’ve done it now

: literally can’t happen, dude.

: yeah, the game would boot them to half-sync automatically after a while, and then they can just take the headset off

: right, right

: but suppose that half-sync stopped working

: it’s never happened and it never will. Shit like that only happens in anime bro

: you know how fast this game would get shut down if that actually happened?

: like, it’s not even a question. Reflect Sys would get sued off the face of the planet if someone got trapped in their game

: mmmm, yeah, they probably wouldn’t know how to handle it other than shutting down the servers

: but what’s really scary is that nobody knows what would happen to the people who were stuck if they did shut down the game :<

: kat pls don’t humor him, ur gonna upset oblivion

: jesus christ can we not have this same discussion every other day

: see lmao

Rian swept guild chat aside, closing it.

God, how could he have been so idiotic? The chances of him actually being stuck inside this game were so low that it might as well be nonexistent. Mirage had been around for almost two years; there was no way he was the first person out of millions of players to get stuck for real. Why had he leapt to that conclusion in the first place? Did some part of himself wish, deep down, that it had been the case—that he was truly stuck in another world now, forever?

No, it was because he was taking everything at face-value. In a game where reality itself was malleable. All these systems and menus—they were just constructs that the game engine manipulated. And that meant they could be manipulated.

He opened his menu and stared at where the log out button should’ve been.

Why the hell had he been taking the word of a butler that looked like a literal demon, anyway?

Rian slowly turned to Corvis. “Have you been you lying to me?”

Corvis merely looked at him with his brow raised, as if he hadn’t been listening. “About what?”

“About everything. That I can’t log out. That I’m actually dead in the real world.” The more he thought about it, the angrier he was. He couldn’t believe that he’d fallen for all of it. “Are you making all of this up? Is this really just part of the game?”

Corvis shook his head, but there was disbelief and impatience in his eyes. “So we’re back to this, are we? I keep trying to warn you, but you keep consulting with off-worlders. What makes you think they would know any better?”

“Because they’re real. They’re real people.” Floating there, Corvis seemed merely confused—about as confused as Rian expected an NPC to look upon being told their world wasn’t real. “I want you to tell me the truth. How much control do you have over what I’m seeing? You can see my system messages, can’t you? Are you altering my menus to keep me from logging out?”

Corvis watched him for a moment, contemplating. Then, glancing down, Corvis held out his hands—in them appeared his giant needle with a closed eye at its other end. Up close, it was a four-foot long shard of black glass. Slowly, Corvis gripped it with one hand and turned its point toward Rian.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rian said. It looked like he was getting ready to attack him, but they were clearly inside the town’s area. Nothing could be damaged in towns—not the buildings, creatures, or even other players as far as he knew.

And then Rian focused on the needle long enough for its info to appear.

Obsidian Nullshard Needle of ??? — Inactive Form (Level ???)

Grade: S+ (Unique)

Nullshard (weapon ignores nullshard fields; prevents inspection of all other effects.)

??? (via Ezre’s Eye: effect unknown.)

Oh.

That, uh… That would probably do it.

He didn’t know exactly what it was, but “nullshard field” sounded a lot like the damage prevention mechanic in towns.

There were other adventurers passing by, on their way through the port or to the shops lining it. Rian glanced at them, almost wishing someone else could see Corvis right now.

“You think I’m bluffing, don’t you?” Corvis said.

Rian swallowed and stepped forward. There was no reason for Corvis to hurt him. As he expected, Corvis pulled his arm back to prevent the needle from touching his throat.

“I want you to give me my damn log out button back,” Rian said, sounding more confident than he was. “You’re hiding it, aren’t you? This is all just a trick you’ve been playing on me.”

Corvis stared up at him, calm and expressionless. The wind ruffled his hair and his suit as it passed by.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” Corvis said, lowering the needle, “you know that?”

Rian breathed out, let the tension drop from his shoulders. “So it’s really all a—”

He gagged as Corvis shoved the needle through his neck.

You have taken 9999 damage! (HP: 0/186)

You have died.

Respawning in 10 seconds…

His body hit the ground, and everyone around him—the adventurers and NPCs and NAPs alike—stopped and looked over. Rian glanced down at himself, realizing he wasn’t in his body. There were two of him. There was his corpse on the ground, but he himself was standing where he’d been and had turned translucent, like a ghost.

“Holy shit,” one of the onlooking adventurers whispered, stepping back, nervously glancing aside. “Someone here has a nullshard weapon?”

Some of them began to step back from Rian’s corpse, but others remained, sharing confused glances at each other. From the way everyone was looking, no one could see him—not even Corvis, who was merely watching the corpse.

The respawn timer hit zero. A pressure built up at the back of Rian’s head, growing so strongly that it began to hurt just before he felt himself passing out—a terrible hollow feeling in his chest, the world going gray at the edges of his sight, and darkness rushing toward him.