Chapter 11 - Jane

I could see a group of lackeys that had been laughing at their leader’s antics swiftly moving to his aid. Jackson leaned down. I saw his lips move. Then I saw the kneeling man’s knife flash through the distance between them.

Thunder detonated in an expanding ring from the epicenter of the arena.

My hair was lifted from my head, floating in a mesmerizing defiance of gravity as an incandescent bar of liquid light slammed into the ground. I was knocked from my feet, my vision washed in white. The resulting crater that began to coalesce through my warped vision bore more resemblance to a bomb blast than a lightening stroke. Floating amidst the strewn bodies, a form hovered above a throne of striated, tortured glass. Gnarled crystalline roots dug into the earth as the sand began to flow and slide, filling in the crater and leaving the throne planted deeply above the arena floor. The gleaming chest plate, broad shoulders, and billowing cloak of the figure was washed out and yet it still struck the deep, primal instincts of flight inside of me. There was no fight option in the face of this… inevitability. He began to clap. Slowly at first, the booming reports rumbling off into the distance and raising to a crescendo that made me want to duck and look for cover. His laugh was as jovial as it was all-consuming.

“Well done, well done! It has been centuries since cowardly mortals have risen above their pale and pathetic nature to surprise me. Without coddling or coercion, warriors have arisen, fully-formed from the primordial essence of complacent chattel. Well done indeed, my champions! Receive the blessing of Zion!” Lightening once again rent the air in a wash of heat and light as the two combatants were momentarily joined by fire to this new presence. The link snapped as abruptly as it had begun and the figure addressed the crowd. “Now! The rest of you shall forge your fates in combat! Blood and bone are the price of admittance into the Academy. Prove yourselves! Rise above your petty and petulant natures!” His voice lowered to a whisper that rumbled across the stunned audience. “Harden your resolve. For it shall be tested.”

A system message appeared in front of me.

You have received a quest: Forged in Fury.

Warriors are made; not born. Great warriors are made through great trials. Select a weapon and defend yourself! This location has become a Player Versus Player Battleground. Rewards: Variable. Based on survival time and opponents defeated. By choosing the advanced tutorial, you have automatically accepting this quest.

I was pulled to my feet and flung bodily toward a rack of weapons that had appeared among the milling crowd. A low susurrus of voices was slowly growing into the roiling boil of a kicked ant hill. I glanced back at the figure of Zion wreathed in white as he slowly sank onto the raised dais of his throne. His rapt gaze was a drawn sword slid among the crowd.

Gerald had already herded the others toward the weapon racks after me. My eyes scanned the weapons frantically. I wasn’t any good with swords and knives! I was decent with a bow. I couldn’t really fail to be, with how much time and practice Jackson had put into it. I tried to find shared interests, but it was so hard when he was just that much better than me at it. It was like playing Nintendo Smash Brother’s or any First Person Shooter with someone who owned the game and you didn’t. Crushing defeat after crushing defeat made it hard to want to keep at it.

I saw Gerald grab up a thick wedge of a blade that was comically large. He only smiled as if he were meeting a lost love. Blondie snatched up more knives than I could count and was making them disappear around her body with astonishing speed. I need a gun! Where are the guns! Krul slid his left arm through the thick leather straps of a shield that clearly valued function over form. It was matched by an equally utilitarian long sword who’s only acknowledgment of decor was a calligraphic letter D engraved on the pommel. Even Calen had grabbed up an exquisite diadem mounted on a thin circlet. She rested it on her brow, giving the impression of having gained a third eye. My breathing was coming fast and labored now. What should I do? I’m going to get killed in my first hour in the game!

As if in answer to my frantic internal struggle, a bellow of rage made me look up at the lumbering giant I had recognized from among the crowd of hanger’s on as they watched Calen’s harassment. He whipped a heavy maul through the air like a match stick, aiming a blow for my head as I stood, frozen in indecision.

I raised my hands in front of me, my eyes closed in fear as an enormous impact jolted the ground. It took me only a second to realize that I wasn’t dead. I opened my eyes to see a powerfully built man swinging a mace down on the staggered giant. Sound returned with a wash of the screams and impacts of battle. I couldn’t see Jackson anywhere.

I crawled away from the embattled giants to a nearby rack of war implements. Resting inside of a small nook, I could just make out the edge of a book peeking from between wooden slits. It was impossible to see without being up close. I reached in and pulled it free. I flipped it open to scan the first page: Secrets of a Wizards Power. My breath caught and my face flushed as I turned the pages, faster and faster. I allowed myself one blink on each page, moving to the end and quickly shutting the book and stuffing it in the small pouch at my waist. I stood to my feet.

My eyes were closed as I quickly took in the first few pages. The somatic incantations and gestures. My eyes snapped open, narrowing in on the giant. My hands moved in a dance as words of power sprang from my lips. A compressed ball of heat and fury left my right hand with a distinct lack of a parabolic arc. It blazed a comet trail into the face of the giant as he raised his maul once again to bring it to bear against his attacker. A detonating wash of flame and agony exploded against his face.

Critical Hit! You hit Soggy Gorilla for 52 damage!

The other man moved quickly, kicking him hard in the chest. The giant was staggered off-balance into the overhand swing of Gerald, bringing his sword down onto the maul-wielding attacker. Blood flew in an ark as the blurred and pixelated form fell to the ground and disintegrated. The first man swung his mace up to his shoulder and turned to me. He was black as the ace of spades. The name over his head read: Daniels.