6

The Mark of Yindra

Rian stared down at the corpse of the NPC. “Uh…”

He was pretty sure this wasn’t how Mirage’s tutorial was supposed to go. Nor was he expecting to see the demonic-looking businessman from his dreams hovering in front of him: About as young as Rian but standing at below five feet. Unkempt blond hair, cat-like eyes.

“We’re going to be doing things a little differently, if you couldn’t tell,” the businessman-creature said, adjusting a glove.

“Corvis?” Rian said.

The creature’s smugness vanished. Approaching Rian, he stepped off the ground and floated, hovering over the corpse at his feet. He nearly got up into Rian’s face.

“How do you know my name?”

“I—” Rian began, a bit shocked that his guess was right. He slowly rubbed his forehead in thought. Had that dream really happened, or was this some kind of déjà vu?

No, it had to’ve been something else. Maybe he’d lost some of his memories during the coma and he was getting mixed up somehow.

Unless…

“So,” Rian said, “you don’t know who I am?”

Corvis studied him, then said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, adventurer. Perhaps you met another instance of me. You’re familiar with instances, aren’t you?” He glanced at the dead tutorial NPC. “Everything here is a copy of the original, an illusion extending from truth.”

Rian could feel himself starting to sweat, though nothing was actually happening to his virtual body. What the hell? Why was this NPC talking like he was aware of the game-world?

Rian shook his head. The character was probably programmed with special knowledge for tutorial purposes, like answering players’ questions about the game. Right, that makes sense, he thought, laughing to himself. He wasn’t going insane. “You know, I…thought I saw you before. Like in a dream or something. You were with someone else, though.”

Corvis’s gaze relaxed and he floated back. “Was it, perhaps, a woman?”

Rian swallowed. “Yeah.”

Frowning, Corvis glanced off then flicked out his hand aside, curling in his fingers. A pitch-black staff appeared in his grasp, the material gleaming in the sunlight. It almost looked like an oversize sewing needle, Rian thought, because one end was very pointy, and on the top end was a golden orb, a closed eye resting inside what would’ve been…well, the needle’s eye.

An eye within an eye.

With both hands Corvis gingerly brought the staff’s point to Rian’s left sleeve and lifted. Upon the skin of Rian’s shoulder was the symbol from before—the “Y” with two extra branches. The symbol the woman had etched into him.

Rian gazed at it with dread. He shuddered, then took a huge step back from Corvis.

“Then it’s true,” Corvis mused, smiling as he let go of the staff, which disintegrated into rising black dust. “Yindra’s summoning was successful.”

No, no no no—there was no way this was happening. Something had to be going screwy. Was he really misremembering the dream? Was his memory being tampered with? Rian started pacing with both hands at his temples.

From what he’d seen, the game’s AI was capable of reading its players’ minds to an extent for things like menu operation and such. But players’ memories and internal thoughts were completely off-limits for obvious reasons. Since the rise of full-immersion VR games, there were hard, no-bullshit laws in place for that kind of stuff. It was simply too dangerous to tamper with the brain like that, and Mirage wouldn’t exist if Reflect Systems hadn’t proved that the game was incapable of directly altering minds. The game itself was beamed into the brain—specifically the parts that processed the senses—but that didn’t mean it could alter the brain’s structure outside of those pathways to do something like implanting false memories.

Rian breathed out, trying to calm himself. All right. So it was incredibly unlikely that the game was breaking its protocol. He could trust his own memories, or so he hoped. But the alternative—the game contacting him in real life, through his dreams—was completely impossible.

He stopped pacing and rested his hands on his knees. The woman’s name, Corvis had just said it. Yindra’s summoning.

What had she told him about his mom, in the dream?

When you wake up, she will be missing.

He squinted in thought. Could that woman have meant…that his mom would be missing both in real life and the game?

“Yindra,” Rian said, already exhausted. “Was that the woman’s name? The tall woman, with the horns?”

“Yes,” Corvis said. “One of the four gods who once occupied this realm. She has graced you with the memory of her presence.”

“So, call me crazy, but I think I saw you and her in my dreams. Like, before I came here.” He chewed his lip, already frustrated at how none of this was adding up. “How the hell is that possible?” he snapped. “A part of this…VR game contacted me while I was in a coma? What am I even saying?”

“Her powers far exceed what you believe is possible,” Corvis said, folding his hands behind his back and gazing down at Rian. “The reach of the Four extends beyond the mere confines of this world.”

“What? No, this is just a game,” Rian said. “It couldn’t affect reality like that. You’re an NPC, aren’t you? Do you even know what that is?”

“Of course I do,” Corvis said. “I’m not unfamiliar with the language you off-worlders use.”

“Then can you…explain what the hell’s going on?”

“Yes.” He raised a finger. “In exchange for one thing: your name.”

Rian blinked. “You can’t see it?” He supposed that made sense, considering he couldn’t view Corvis’s name either, though there was some text floating above his head which marked him as an NPC.

Another text box appeared in front of him.

[!] Identification

Player names will remain unknown until provided by that player. The name provided will appear solely to those for whom it is provided, meaning that false names may be given. However, if a false name is given, it will be denoted by—

“Ah,” Corvis said, stabbing a finger through the text box which dissipated into smoke. “That’s enough of that. I think I can handle it from here.”

Rian flinched. What…? He could see his text box notifications?

Cutting the thought short, Corvis said, “Your name, please.”

“It’s Cobalt.”

Corvis cringed. “Oh, no. That won’t do at all. Give me your Earth name.”

“What? Why?”

“Because your name’s far too close to mine.”

Rian scowled at him. Fine, asshole. “Rian.”

Smiling, Corvis tilted his chin up at him. “Ah, what a sense of humor she has. Rian, is it? A pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand.

Hesitating, Rian slowly reached out to shake his hand. Please don’t let this be some kind of demonic deal for my soul, please don’t let this be—

“My name is, indeed, Corvis.” The moment he said his name, it appeared above his head.

“Corvis” is now your Companion!

[!] The NPC Companionship System

You can befriend NPCs, granting you various perks such as EXP and stat bonuses, assistance in battle, recruitment for missions, as well as access to the Companionship System typically reserved for players, albeit with certain restrictions for NPCs.

Another notification appeared next to Corvis’s name. When Rian focused, it expanded into a page.

Corvis

Level ??? Guide (NPC)

Alignment: Yindra

Companionship Level: 0 (Indifferent)

Difficulty: S (Sacred)

“I look forward to working with you, Rian,” he said, letting go of his hand. “Now, as you may have guessed, you have been summoned by Yindra, who has visited you in your sleep, and—”

“Hold up. How…exactly is that possible?”

“As I told you, her reach extends beyond this world.”

The sense of dread was already returning, nestling at the bottom of his stomach. “You mean the game is affecting real life? You…understand that this is all virtual, right? It’s just a game.”

“Of course,” Corvis said. “It is the great game. The great war. The one that you and countless other intruders have come to play upon our realm. Unlike the few of my kind who have personally taken allegiance with yours, I am, alas, not one of them. It is only by Yindra’s command that I take your side.”

A bit of a roundabout answer, but sure. NPCs still had to stay in character somehow. But it was all so…self-aware in a way that was beginning to unnerve him.

“So, this Yindra person,” Rian said, trying not to shout the words in disbelief as he pointed both hands at Corvis. “From my dreams. I’m assuming she’s part of the AI if she’s an NPC, right? You’re telling me the AI is breaching the boundaries of a game. You understand what that means?”

Corvis pressed his thumb against the end of his gloved index finger. “She has her methods, as I understand. Messages may be sent, covertly, to your realm. It is a simple matter of arranging the pieces in order and”—he flicked at the air—“knocking them down, as it were, such that the message arrives in the correct place. It is not beyond her abilities.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Did that mean what he thought it meant?

Mirage was nothing more than powerful electromagnetic waves being fired into his brain billions of times a second by the headset. Maybe his dream during the coma was some kind of incredibly shady way of advertising the game to people in their sleep, with Reflect Systems firing out the same waves at a distance. But, no, that couldn’t be it. Only the waves produced at close-range by the headset could actually get in through the skull. It would’ve had to’ve been through something much closer, more invasive and—

The neural implant.

Rian nearly screamed.

The coma. The surgery. Someone could’ve hacked into the hospital’s systems and altered the implant before it was put into his head. And that was how he’d dreamed of the game before he’d even gotten into it.

On the upside—if there even was an upside to consider—whoever or whatever did it couldn’t have been the game’s AI alone, as that would assume the AI was monstrously intelligent. Far more intelligent than anything revealed to date. It was more likely that someone had used the AI as a tool, directing it to alter the implant.

It was also, beyond all doubt, incredibly illegal. But all that effort just to implant a memory of a weird encounter with some NPCs from a game he hadn’t played yet? Did that mean Reflect Systems was purposefully finding ways of getting around anti-“write-to-user-memory” laws for full-immersion VR games?

Rian stared at the marking on his left shoulder and mumbled to himself, “Did I really just get an advertisement for this game while in a coma?” He didn’t know much about the game’s lore, but maybe being “recruited” by one of the four gods or whatever was a special event, with the tutorial NPC being murdered and everything.

That’s all it was. Just a special event.

And yet his memory of the woman in his dream kept replaying in his mind—what she’d said: When you wake, she will be missing.

Missing not just in reality, but in the game, too. How had the game known about his mom?

All you have to do is return to me.

With each echo of her voice, Rian felt a horrible weight settling upon him. “This Yindra person,” he said to Corvis, “she’s one of your gods, right? Would she be capable of providing information on a certain player—like, say, one who hasn’t logged in for a long time?”

“Of course.”

Rian nearly flinched at how easy his answer was, like there was nothing to it. “How much information are we talking? Play history? Conversation history? Whispers?”

“Nothing is outside of Yindra’s reach.”

“Really? Even private messages? Okay, so, let me guess. This is gonna involve some kind of huge quest that’s gonna take weeks. Why would I do that when I could just ask a GM for that information instead?” He started to bring up his menu, then hesitated. “This game has GMs, right?”

Corvis floated up to him and placed a hand atop his menu. “I would advise against that. They will not provide the answers you seek. And, well…your situation is a bit complicated for an off-worlder.” He gestured at Rian’s left shoulder, where the marking was. “It’s best not to complicate things further.”

“What do you mean?” Rian rolled up his sleeve. “Isn’t the marking just some kind of special event for new characters?”

“That,” Corvis said, “is the Mark of Yindra.” Rian waited for a text box to appear, explaining it, but nothing happened. “Ah, I’m afraid this is rather old magic. You won’t be able to divine it yourself. I can, however, provide a placeholder.”

Corvis snapped his fingers.

The Mark of Yindra

A symbol that emanates an ominous aura. Effects unknown.

Rian raised an eyebrow. “It…doesn’t do anything?”

“Not quite,” Corvis said. “I’m forbidden from revealing its true effect to you through divination, but I may tell you it directly. There is a hidden condition. A very important one. You musn’t let anyone else see the Mark on your shoulder.”

Corvis straightened an arm, and out of his sleeve fell his needle-staff, impossibly long for the length of his suit, like a magic trick. He caught it, brought it around, and held the pointed end to Rian’s neck.

Rian froze. The motion had been so quick that there was no time to react. Even if it was just a game, the simulation was convincing enough. He’d felt the wind off the staff. Heard the material stressing under such a violent movement.

The primal fear of death struck like lightning, locking him into place.

“If the Mark is seen by anyone other than a servant of Yindra, such as myself,” Corvis said, “then I will be forced to kill you. And you will not come back to life as other off-worlders do. Your incarnation—or as you say, your character—shall die and remain dead forever.”

“Uh.” Rian blinked. “Okay.”

Conditional perma-death? He scoffed.

Playing on some kind of secret hard mode wasn’t his thing in MMOs. In other games, sure. He was a speedrunner; he enjoyed challenging himself and setting custom limitations to overcome, but only if he agreed to them. Only if they were under his control.

“So even if a GM sees the marking,” Rian said, “what, you’ll kill me?” He sighed. “You know, if I’m going to play along with this quest to find Yindra that you’re giving me, or whatever, I’d really rather not play with that hanging over me.” He already knew how frustrating it was to reset every time he made a small mistake from speedrunning Shadow Spirits. Like hell if he was going to play Mirage that way.

He looked up at the sky and said, “Can I just restart and get a normal character without the Mark, please?”

When the game didn’t answer, he started to bring up his system options, looking for the CHANGE CHARACTERS button, or if there wasn’t one, the LOG OUT button.

“Wait,” he said, “where’s the log out button?”

There was an empty slot at the bottom of the menu, right where the button would’ve been.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding—

“Well,” Corvis said, “I suppose it’s time I showed you, then.” With a flourish, he swept out an arm. “Command: begin half-sync.”

Returning to half-synchronization.

The surrounding forest shimmered, and suddenly he and Corvis were standing in his mom’s living room, though the walls were flickering as if not quite real. Through the wallpaper he could faintly see the glade and the surrounding forest of the game.

“Ah,” Corvis said, flexing his hand. “I’ve always wanted to do that. This tutorial instance is the only place I can issue commands.”

Rian’s breath caught as he realized—in half-sync, his perspective should’ve automatically returned to where his body was, on the couch. But he was still standing, and he couldn’t feel the headset, either.

“As far as I can tell,” Corvis said, hovering beside him, scrolling through a text box filled with diagnostics, “an abnormality in your brain-wave patterns triggered an error the moment you entered your Vessel, or that you went to full-sync. You should be proud—it’s quite the momentous occasion. You’re the first in the known history of the great game to experience such a catastrophic failure.” He swept the text box aside and folded his hands behind his back, then smiled at Rian. “You exist only in the Cognitive Mirror, now. Your consciousness has integrated with your Vessel.”

Rian slowly looked over at the couch. Lying there, with pale and bluish skin, was his body.