Chapter 5

WORLDTREE International Holdings HQ

“…I see. You make a compelling argument. Make the necessary arrangements then. Make sure to inform the family accordingly before guiding them to their son’s location in-game.”

“…”

“Hah…I’ve told you why we can’t simply free-teleport them there – now that the game is running, that function was taken out to avoid destabilizing the game code! Are you willing to crash the entire in-game world, then?”

“…”

“I’m glad you understand. Keep up the good work.”

*Click*

“…Now then. It’s almost done, isn’t it? Just a little more…then I’ll be done with this place. It won’t be my problem anymore. I can finally…”

-----------------

Romul, Primus Regia

This is Primus Regia, the Romulii capital. As the heart of Romulii civilization, it was filled with grand monuments, famous for its bathhouses and home to the greatest goal of duelists everywhere – the Imperial Colosseum. Its buildings were built of carved stone in an organized grid that was near perfect in precision. Red banners depicting twin wolves hung everywhere.

In the Commerce District, the crowds were thick, as was normal during the day. The people in it were primarily humans of Romulii descent. Other races were a minority here save for the Dwarves, who shared the same continent.

In this milling hive of people, a daughter meets her mother.

“…So in the end, you sold off that gladius, huh?” Kat concluded with a smile.

“Aha…I’m sorry, it looks like fighting isn’t really something I enjoy.” Mrs. Irene Walker laughed in embarrassment. “I just couldn’t handle it. Everything was happening too quickly and those things were frightening! Maybe it’s because I didn’t play games all too much when I was younger.” She sighed in remorse.

Kat held her mom’s hands reassuringly. “It’s okay, mom. Not everybody who plays Myth/Real takes on a combat role. You’d be surprised how many people main production skills.” She was not lying about this, either. Her own classmates in school who played the game were a testament to this fact. “So what skills are you training right now? Spill!” She demanded, leaning forwards in excitement.

“Settle down, dear!” Mrs. Walker laughed. “Would it surprise you if I said I recently became an Apprentice Blacksmith?” She winked, flexing an arm.

“Eeeh?!” Kat gaped. Her mom was a positively tiny person and her avatar reflected her real-life physique. The image of her lifting a huge hammer overhead to pound on an anvil… “Pfft!”

Irene chopped her daughter’s head gently, a pout on her face. “Scoffing at your own mother? How rude! I’ll have you know that I’m rather good at Blacksmithing!”

“Ow! Sorry, mom.” Kat apologized, rubbing sheepishly at her head “Seriously, why blacksmithing, of all things?”

“Honestly? It’s something I wouldn’t get to do in reality.” Irene explained. “I tried being a merchant after I gave up on fighting, you know. When I got all those skills, I also received weird messages.” She cocked her head, brow scrunched up. “What was it… Ah! Yes, they said something about…’Synchronized Experience’? I also found being a merchant was very similar to my real job too. If that’s the case, then alchemy must be like chemistry, isn’t it? So in the end, I decided to pursue blacksmithing…especially since you walk around with all this metal on your person now.” She tapped her knuckles on Kat’s armor. Her daughter giggled and pushed the offending hand away.

“Huh. Synchronized Experience? Lemme check…” Kat mused. With a practiced hand gesture, she opened the in-game web browser. The NPCs passing by gave her double-takes at the little screen hanging in the air in front of her face, but dismissed it quickly. Magic was an everyday occurence in Myth/Real Online, after all.

With the effortless skill of most people born in the Information Age, Kat opened up several screens, all from different sources. “Got it. Let’s see… Oh, interesting!” Kat exclaimed. “So, it turns out that people with real-life experience get a bonus when they create skills that reflect that experience! Like this guy here.” She pointed to a forum post. “He’s a fencing instructor who got a beta key. He bought a rapier and started fighting with it, so he managed to get Synchronized Experience with the Passive skill [Fencer]. Woah, it jumped from Level 1 to Level 9 almost instantly! He’s even got screenshots and video to prove it.”

Irene nodded. “That sounds right. It’s amazing, isn’t it? The creators of the game must be using some incredible tech for all this to be possible. It’s fascinating!”

“Yeah. Fascinating.” Kat mumbled, distracted. She had been getting quite suspicious as she played the game. It was an incredible achievement, to be sure, but things did not really add up, or so she thought. WORLDTREE claimed that their powerful technology was the result of top secret projects. But Myth/Real Online itself…it was too good.

There were other VR games before this Full Dive MMORPG, but their best efforts still fell short of what this game was capable of. Their NPCs made this glaringly obvious. No matter how cleverly the scriptwriters, voice actors and AI design teams worked, their NPCs eventually showed their limited nature, whether it was repeated dialogue or simply a certain artificial quality of behavior. Every so-called ‘NPC’ she had met with so far was fleshed out in a way she only ever experienced in real life. The AI that could make this happen would have to be phenomenally powerful. Kat was pretty damn sure that it would need a computer decades ahead of what anyone was capable of building now.

However, she had no proof beyond her suspicions. Other people must have come to the same conclusions already, but outside of actual industrial espionage, she could not think of a way to find any clues. Saying anything about this would probably just get her dismissed as a crazy conspiracy theorist. What’s more, WORLDTREE was already doing her family a favor by finding her brother. In other words, she was still at square one, meekly waiting for outside help.

It rankled her on a very personal level.

“K-Kat?” Her mom’s voice was shaken.

She turned to look at her mother, alarmed at her suddenly fragile tone. In front of both of them, a message notification had popped up on its own. Her mother was staring at the opened message. Kat swiftly copied her and opened up the email.

FROM: WORLDTREE Int'l M/RO Customer support, [email protected]

TO: Katherine Walker

Subject: We found him.

To Ms. Walker,

We have your brother's in-game location. Send me the name of the city/continent you are nearest and

we'll meet up at the closest Teleport Nexus. I'll guide you there personally. Enclosed in this message

is an image of his in-game appearance and his name.

Regards,

GM Colin

----------------------

Thistle

“Have ta say, yours is tha most strange request Ah’ve had this month, lad.” The blacksmith remarked.

He, as a Saelkhy Svartalfar, looked almost entirely human save for his slitted eyes. He was wearing a blacksmith’s leather apron, simple clothing littered with black scorch marks from errant sparks and a dog’s entire pelt tied by its front legs around his neck. The pelt itself was decorated with blue dye in a swirling, simple pattern that covered nearly half of it. That was his birth-hide. If he so chose, he could use it to assume the form of a huge dog, its fur adorned with that very blue pattern. It was an ancient tradition for Saelkhy to dye their birth-hides so they would not confuse them with the normal kind.

Isaac shook the blacksmith’s hand firmly. “Much obliged for the help, Master Seamus. ‘Tis a strange request, I admit, but if it works, I may find it very useful.”

“Bah, don’t ‘Master’ me. Ah’m just a village blacksmith. Me craft’s me pleasure!” Seamus laughed, slapping Isaac’s back heartily with his ham-sized fist.

Isaac staggered, holding back a wince. “Ah, I’ll take my leave then. Farewell.” Shifting his package under his arm - a scabbard with a thin curved handle attached after the lip of the opening, he left the smithy and started on the way back to the Hospice.

On the way, he had to pass the Adventurer’s Guild. There, Isaac saw a certain kind of people that he had not seen for quite some time. The kind that had names floating above their heads. In other words, Players. He was not exactly sure why Thistle had been completely devoid of Players other than the cat-girl he saw a while back, but he was definitely not going to waste this chance to ask them for help.

“U-Um, excuse me!” He called out, jogging quickly up to them.

The group of three turned around. Two of them were wearing cloaks save for the man with an impressively horned Saelkhy birth-hide of a bull. The Bull Saelkhy was intimidatingly large, with a massive scar that cut diagonally across an eye. Yet, the organ looked untouched. His square jaw, short dark hair and that scar made his face particularly ferocious. The name over his head read ‘Bara-Thon’

The next man had the hood of his cloak up and was almost completely obscured by dark robes. A large visor, adorned with gold filigree, hid most of his face save for his mouth and lower jaw. It was the ochre fur that gave him away as a Poukha. He held a staff topped with a smooth quartz orb, marking him as a Mage. His name read ‘Narghel’

When Isaac laid eyes on the last member…

“Ghk!” He choked, feeling his face burn.

It was that blonde cat-girl he had seen in Thistle before. However, her outfit had somehow become even more skimpy than before. She had forgone upper body clothing entirely, leaving her breasts bound by nothing more than a wide leather belt. Her shorts exposed every inch of her legs until they reached the boots. From behind, her cloak had concealed everything, but the moment she turned around she gave Isaac and the entire street behind him quite an eyeful.

Isaac hurriedly cast his gaze skyward. Behind him, an outraged housewife began to screech at someone else, presumably her husband. Just out of the bottom of his sight, he could read the catgirl’s name. It was ‘Nyakka’

“Aaah!” He heard a feminine voice exclaim. “I knew it! I wasn’t seeing things that time! See? I told you guys that someone else found this village before I did!”

Isaac snapped his eyes back down. He always thought the other Player had not been aware of his presence. All this time, he had been mistaken.

“Okay, fine. You were right and we were wrong. Happy?” The Bull Saelkhy grumbled. He looked utterly exasperated.

“If you were here…” The Poukha mage asked, sounding extremely amused. “…then why didn’t you get this guy here on your friend list? Would’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble. Right, Nyakka?”

“Come on!” Nyakka, the underdressed catgirl whined. “This entire thing only started because you jerks wouldn’t believe me in the first place! Besides, I was only just passing through that time! I was looking for training spots, remember? A [Monk] has to train in the wilderness or she cannot be called a [Monk]!”

“Um…I beg pardon…?” Isaac asked weakly.

“[Monk] my ass! You’re just a [Pugilist]! Besides, the only kinda monastery that would take your nudist ass is one that preaches the Kama Sutra as its main doctrine!” Bara-thon retorted.

“You know, that sounds like my kind of religion” Narghel sighed wistfully.

Nyakka’s response was to cup a hand to one of her feline ears. “What? Speak up! I can’t hear you over the sound of [Enduring Body]! You know, that skill I got by not wearing armor?” She taunted, her mouth curved in a smug smile.

“That skill is utter bullshit.” Bara-thon the Bull Saelkhy groused.

“Excuse me, I’d like to-“ Isaac tried again, in a louder voice.

“Wait a goddamn minute, I know that skill works if you’ve got cloth stuff on! You’ve got no damn excuse for your shit!” Bara-thon exclaimed, gesturing at Nyakka’s non-attire.

“Woah, woah, woah. Dude. Are you dissing our eye-candy?” Narghel cut in, suddenly serious. “Whoops, I mean…it’s her choice how she wants to look, man. Don’t be a hater.”

“See what I mean?!” Bara-thon points at the unrepentant Poukha mage, who was clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Myeh, nag nag nag…always the same shit.” Nyakka muttered with disinterest, all the while twisting her little finger in one ear. “If they get fresh, I’ll kick their asses. Why are you so worked up about this anyway?”

“EXCUSE ME!” Isaac shouted, finally losing his temper. All three players turned to look with startled eyes, causing his irritation to wilt into sudden embarrassment. “Um…I… Pardon my intrusion, good folk, I…”

“Nice accent, bro.” Narghel sniggered. “You a roleplayer or something?”

Isaac blinked. He had an accent?

“Eeeeeh!” Nyakka squealed. “I love it! He sounds like R*mza!” She seemed to teleport right in front of him. “Ooh! Say something again!”

Isaac leaned away from her starry gaze. “M-Milady, you are standing too close…”

Bara-thon palmed his face before dragging Nyakka back by the hood of her cloak. “Ease off the obscure references, Nyakka. And quit scaring the newb.” He told her. He gave Isaac a solemn nod. “Sorry about these two idiots. They’re a little nuts. Oh, and sorry for ignoring you earlier. We got…uh…carried away.” He ended sheepishly.

“Yep.” Narghel chortled. “It’s like this all the time now. We pretty much play as a group from way, way back and Nyakka here used to cross-play as a guy, you see. Bara-boy here only realized the truth when she started playing Myth/Real. I don’t think he’ll ever recover.”

“Damn gender restrictions…” Nyakka grumbled. “It can’t be helped, though. I mean, if it messes you up, I’m not risking it. Oh, wait! You needed to ask something, right?”

Isaac’s head was spinning a little from the rapid-fire shenanigans. “A-Ah. Yes. I was wondering if you would help me. I’m searching for some people, but they may not be players in the game…”

Narghel cocked his head in confusion. “Heh? Well, just log out and call them then? Or maybe you don’t have their phone number or something?”

Isaac’s shoulders slumped. Suddenly, he was not so sure about approaching other players. He was not even sure exactly what had happened to him in the first place. With no other choice, he had to lie. “T-That’s not possible for me. My phone…I, uh, lost it?”

“Ouch.” Nyakka muttered. “Okay, what about email then? That should work.”

Isaac wanted to curl in on himself. He did not think this through. “Um…I have their old email addresses, but…they…may not be…using them anymore…?”

Bara-thon gave him a very odd look. “…The hell? Why are you even looking for them if you can’t be bothered to stay in touch?”

Isaac wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “…Never mind then. I’m…sorry for taking up your time…” he whimpered.

New Title!

[Puppy]

Your pitiable expression tugs at the heartstrings of the soft-hearted and dog-lovers everywhere!

Nyakka rocked back on her heels. “Gyah.” She suddenly clapped both her hands on Isaac’s shoulders. “Wait, don’t listen to those two idiots! Look, why don’t you tell me the names of those people you’re looking for? This onee-chan will help you find them!”

Narghel’s mouth gaped for a second. “Uh, Nyakka, think about what you-” He got cut off by Nyakka turning her head to face him. “Eep!” He retreated, his hands up in surrender.

Nyakka’s face turned back. Her eyes were sparkling. “Don’t worry! Nyakka’s going to help you or die trying!” She chirped.

Isaac felt like he was making a terrible mistake.

---------------------------

Isaac successfully escaped from the trio of lunatics, but not before having Nyakka’s name forcefully shoved into his [Friends List].

He was not sure whether to feel mortified or relieved when he saw Riselda standing in the middle of the road, watching him. It may have been a trick of the light filtering from the leaves above, but her hair appeared to have darkened in color to a more reddish-brown since the last time he saw her. The mage staff she gripped in her hand was new. The corner of her mouth seemed to be curved upwards. “Those three…” She began. “…seemed rather friendly.”

Isaac let his shoulders slump again. “I…I don’t know why. Please don’t ask.”

She nodded in a languid manner. “Hm. Well then. I was on the way back home. May we walk together? It has been some time since we’ve spoken.” She asked softly.

Isaac perked up. “Oh! Certainly! We’ve both been rather busy lately. We may not find another chance later.”

With that said, they continued their path back to the Hospice, walking side by side. There was a comfortable silence between them. The weather had been cooling down, as was normal near the end of summer. Though the leaves in the canopy far above remained green, it would not be long before the colors of autumn began to show.

“I must apologize, Isaac…” Riselda asked quietly. “…I overheard your words with your fellow Star-People earlier. Are you intending to leave Thistle?”

Isaac let out a slow breath. “Yes. Not now, but soon. If I stay here, I’ll never accomplish my goal.”

“Perhaps it’s only natural.” Riselda said, looking to the side. “You’ve been putting on faces of longing recently. It’s a logical conclusion that you’d have such a desire, now that your memories are returned.”

“Speaking of returned memories, am I not a lackwit anymore, then?” Isaac asked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

Riselda let out a soft snort. “No, certainly not. You’ve progressed to a halfwit. I’m certain that in time, you may recover entirely. Give it a decade or two.” She gave him a faint smirk. “That’s my professional opinion as a healer.”

“Have mercy, I surrender!” Isaac pleaded, jokingly.

They both traded looks and laughed quietly. Isaac could not help the little smile on his face.

“…These people you’re looking for are your family, aren’t they?” Riselda asked, her smile fading to reveal a serious expression.

Isaac shut his eyes for a moment. “Yes.”

Silence fell again, the pleasant mood now tinted with some sorrow. The rest of their journey back home was bittersweet.

That lasted until they caught sight of the Hospice itself – and the unwelcome person standing before it.

Riselda let out a virulent “Hsss!” as her eyes narrowed in distaste. “Malcolm. You dare show your face here?”

It was, indeed, the leonine Malcolm standing in front of the Hospice. He looked as immaculately handsome as ever, a new sword hanging at his waist. Somehow, he looked less foppish, more dangerous. There was no mistaking the arrogant smile, nor the malicious undercurrent in his eyes. Isaac could see the ill-intent he regarded them with. There was a crawling feeling of foreboding going up his spine again. The last time, the Lion Poukha only had disdain for Isaac and a barely-hidden lust when he looked at Riselda.

(He knew that look from his father’s eyes, sometimes when strange women came to their house. Mom was never home for those times.)

“Dear Riselda, it’s been quite a while since we’ve last met.” He purred. His tone sounded oily and disgusting to Isaac’s ears. “Are you willing to speak to me now? It’s been more than a month now. Surely your anger has cooled?”

Isaac knew that Malcolm had been making repeated visits, always in an attempt to regain what little favor he had with Riselda. The calendar in the Hospice and his own menu screens agreed that a month had indeed already passed.

Riselda raised her chin, her stature shifting to imperious disdain. “Stop deluding yourself. I’ll have nothing to do with you!”

Malcolm shook his head in sorrow…or so it seemed. “You wound me, my dearest. How am I supposed to redeem myself if you will not even give me the chance to? Holding such grudges is unbecoming of a beautiful young lady like you.”

Malcolm’s words did not match that baleful look in his eye. It was the gaze of a man looking at his hated foes. Worse, it was directed at the both of them. They might be in greater danger than they first realized.

Riselda, to her credit, might as well have been carved out of ice. She was cold, indifferent. Utterly composed in the face of this oppressive atmosphere. “You did not come to mince words, I think. What are you really here for?” She demanded, her eyes narrowing again, this time in suspicion.

“Do you remember the last time we spoke?” Malcolm asked, his smile suddenly gone cold. “I begged for forgiveness. I actually went down on my knees and pleaded for it. You rejected me, of course. And afterwards, I swore that you would regret it. Do you remember that? Of course you don’t. Nothing I did was ever good enough for you.” He finished bitterly.

Riselda sighed. “And?”

Malcolm paused, but his smile returned to full strength. “I would not be so blithe if I were you. After all, you ruined my good name. So I returned the favor!”

“As petty revenges go, that one is quite lukewarm.” Riselda retorted, as she rolled her eyes. “If you truly knew me at all, then you know I care little about such things.”

The calm assurance of Malcolm’s face sent bells of alarm ringing in Isaac’s mind. “That, my dear Riselda, is precisely your weakness.” The Alderman’s son seemed to savor his words. “Do you realize how much ill will you have amongst the young girls of this silly mudhole of a village? It is truly a venomous stew. Your refined manners, your noble features, your…” His eyes trailed up and down her body, causing her to shudder minutely in revulsion. “…womanly assets. Did you really think only the men have noticed?”

Malcolm began to pace dangerously. “Oh yes. Quite a recipe for jealousy! They’ll happily aim for any chink in your impeccable image. You and I know that Thistle’s folk are not any measure of saints. You’re not so naïve as that, are you? You must already be hearing the whispers by now. They’ll forget my own missteps…but I’ve already taken measures to make sure they remember yours forever. I like the rumors about your wanton ways with patients. The scandalous stories tend to float around for quite some time, I hear.”

Riselda twitched, finally feeling the blow. Her face had gone pale.

Malcolm bowed mockingly as he began to walk past them. “Farewell, whore.” he hissed as he walked past.

The last two words ignited a river of fire in Isaac’s veins.

*CRACK*

Malcolm fell to the earth, holding his jaw. His expression showed pure shock.

Isaac lowered his fist, his knuckles throbbing. “You bastard.” He growled. He could barely recognize his own voice. “I challenge you to a duel. Here and now. You will not walk away smiling!”