NOVEL WEB CHAPTER 64: IDENTITY BOMB
Sarah Avery Vasilias, Great House Scion, Reborn Lvl 5
Skyland
Kimi-Lim took a sip of tea and stared into the fire for a while. They sat that way for several long minutes, each alone with their thoughts. Sarah’s turned towards Griffin and home, as they often did when she had an idle moment. After so long apart, his face should be fading from my memory. But it hasn’t. And why else have I done all this if it wasn’t to make sure that we could be safe? That’s the whole point of this time loop Tutorial Realm place: so I can come out just a few months after I left, but actually able to defend myself. “Kimi-Lim,” she eventually said, “what can you tell me about the Cataclysm Mountains?”
The elf shook themselves out of the reverie they’d fallen into and cocked one pristine eyebrow at Sarah quizzically, “The Cataclysm Mountains? Now there’s a fraught place that’s been touched by the Empire—House Vasilias in particular. Why do you want to know?”
“It’s the place the portal dumped me from Earth,” Sarah explained. “Before I came to the Tutorial Realm I mean. I was on some cliff or peak—someplace high—and a bird was attacking me. The label on my System map thingy called it the Cataclysm Mountains. It’s the only thing I know about where I arrived.”
“What to tell about the Cataclysm Mountains…” the elf mused, tapping their perfectly manicured finger against the side of their teacup, “well for one thing, their name is a lie.” Sarah shot a doubtful look at Kimi-Lim but the elf nodded. “Their proper name is the San Tristobel Mountains. They used to make up the majority of two countries that don’t exist anymore—Kilgoth and Darioth. They were peopled by orcs and their kin: goblins, ogres, orcs, hobgoblins. The Empire has labeled these people as monsters, equivalent to the creatures they see as a threat to all civilization. There is an ongoing campaign to ‘rid the world of the orc stain’ and it’s been very successful so far.”
Sarah started, surprised to hear the familiar names of monsters from her favorite video games and books, “Hang on, you have orcs? And goblins?” She scrunched up her nose as something else occurred to her. “Wait. And you’re an elf. Those are all things from Earth! Like, made-up stories! What in the hell is going on here?”
Kimi-Lim shook their head and said, “I keep on forgetting. You’re not from here. This is more recent history, but still has to do with the Imperials and the people who lived in Kilgoth and Darioth. Now called orcs, goblins, ogres, and hobgoblins. Just like my people are called elves.” They paused a moment and refilled their teacup, taking a little sip. “The Imperials discovered a special kind of magic quite by accident in their last war, which was against Kilgoth and Darioth. Of course, the Imperials blame their enemies for it, but it was their own Identity Bomb that did it.”
“An Identity Bomb?” Sarah asked. “How can you bomb an identity? What does that even mean?”
Kimi-Lim said, “Well, you know how your perception is intimately tied to your magical perception of yourself? What do you think would happen if someone developed a weaponized ritual that could tear that perception apart?”
Sarah blinked and thought for a second. “Um,” she said intelligently. “It would be…bad?”
Kimi-Lim laughed humorlessly and nodded, “It would be bad. The Imperials hoped it would kill their enemies in one fell swoop. They powered it with teraspark battery arrays—they were trying to exterminate their enemies in one fell swoop. End the war by total obliteration of four entire peoples.” They fell quiet, staring off into the middle distance.
“But you said there’s still orcs and goblins and whatever,” Sarah said a little tentatively. “Right?”
Kimi-Lim nodded again. “There are still orcs, ogres, goblins, and hobgoblins. The Imperials’ weapons didn’t work the way they had intended. Instead of destroying them utterly, killing them, and ending the war that way, in my opinion, it did something far worse: the Identity Bomb obliterated their culture.”
“How do you obliterate a culture?” Sarah asked, horrified. “I mean, Earth is no picnic—there were people there who tried to do that to other people just because of their skin color or their religion.”
“The Identity Bomb was subtly pernicious and utterly thorough,” Kimi-Lim said, their voice quiet and tinged with awe and disgust. “It erased everyone’s memory of them, even their own. Their history was gone; their language was gone—only those who could speak languages originating outside of their homes could still communicate, and they had no memory of their home or their land.” They shook their head, “As a way to kill people, the Identity Bomb was a failure. Then again, it allowed the Empire to fabricate their history and their justifications for their terrible war crimes.”
“So these orcs and whatever are called orcs because the Empire called them orcs? That doesn’t make any more sense than before! And they just all forgot who they were? That’s insane!” It all came out in a rush, incredulous. Sarah blushed but continued, “What about the fact that there are orcs and elves and goblins in stories that I grew up reading? Video games I made my living playing?”
“That’s the terrible thing about their Identity Bomb,” Kimi-Lim said. “It erased who they were. The names, ‘orc’, ‘hobgoblin’, ‘ogre’, and ‘goblin’ are tensa constructs—fill-ins for names of people that don’t exist anymore. No one remembers the original names of these people. When you try to give them a name, it always comes out as a pejorative, childish story-monster from your own culture. I don’t know what you’re hearing, but there are stories of savage orcs and bestial hobgoblins everywhere.” Sarah was listening for it now and this time she caught it. When Kimi-Lim said, ‘orc’, they weren’t actually saying ‘orc’. Their lips were saying something subtly different. But the word she heard was ‘orc’. It was a disturbing realization. “Not all of the effects were permanent. Over long years they’ve pieced together a mostly complete idea of their histories. But there are lingering effects even so many years after the Empire declared their war ‘won’. Even talking about it sickens me.”
Sarah sat quietly, lost in thought for a while. The idea of the Identity Bomb was so…weird. And evil. How could anyone want to use such a weapon? Why would anyone want to live in a place that used weapons like that? She thought of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and swallowed her first response. Not many people had much choice about where they lived, not really. You lived where you lived and you tried to get along as best you could.
“But what about you?” Sarah asked, remembering that Kimi-Lim was an ‘elf’.
Kimi-Lim laughed bitterly, “My people were just as affected by the Imperials’ Identity Bomb,” Kimi-Lim said. “And our wizards had been sure that our spellshields and defenses would protect us from such a weapon but one day, no one could remember exactly who the Imperials had been fighting or for exactly how long or why. It was alarming, to say the least. So we studied their bomb and picked it apart, re-engineered it into a defensive measure. Tell me, what are elves in your world?”
Sarah thought about it, “They’re graceful, beautiful. Tall and incredibly skilled. Natural magicians or skilled archers and they always live in these gorgeous tree cities in the woods.”
“Right. And what’s an orc?”
“An eight-foot-tall monster with green skin and a hog’s snout, complete with razor-sharp tusks and mean yellow eyes. They’re the classic mook monster: dumb and numerous.” Sarah frowned. “Hmmm. And goblins are sniveling, greedy little cowards who can only be dangerous in numbers. Ogres are huge dumb giants with insatiable appetites only matched by their bloodlust. Okay, I think I see where you’re going with this.”
Kimi-Lim laughed bitterly, “It sounds like your Earth was sent a PR package on the orcwallah from the Empire. They love to cast their enemies as monsters, even when there are actual, literal monsters that magically manifest in the world.”
“And so your people did…what? Made your own Identity Bomb?” Sarah asked.
“Sort of,” Kimi-Lim said. “But it was far more sophisticated and targeted than the Imperials’ crude weapon. Remember, they were trying to kill, but we were trying to defend. Still, despite our plan working, we lost our people’s name. I wonder sometimes if it was worth it.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say to that. She’d never had to face genocide before, whether from her people or an enemy and didn’t feel like anything she said could add to the conversation. She decided to change the subject.
“What’s an orcwallah?” Sarah asked. “That sounds vaguely important.”
“It’s what they call themselves as a people—the orcwallah. The war rendered most of the San Tristobel Mountains uninhabitable because of fierce magical storms and dangerous monsters, but the orcs, and all of them, began piecing together their language from the ruins of their cities. The word is two words smooshed together: ‘orc’ for…well, you know. And ‘wallah’, which I think means family or people or something like that. It’s kind of a unity thing. Elves and the orcwallah have traditionally been neutral parties—not much crossover between peoples—but the real concern is that they are gonna kill your Imperial ass as soon as it pops back into existence.”
Sarah stopped her pacing and turned back to face the elf. “I have some concerns,” she said.
“The orcwallah doesn’t use the System directly—they don’t trust it—but they can tell an Imperial from a kilometer away. The whole reason there isn’t Kilgoth or Darioth anymore is because of House Vasilias—even though it was far from us in the Painted Desert, everyone heard the news when the Cataclysm happened.” Deep into the full swing of their lecture mode, Kimi-Lim didn’t notice Sarah’s worry.
“And their Reborn are…unique. They prefer Unique Classes--something that goes against all conventional wisdom, but that's the orcwallah for you,” Kimi-Lim shook their head incredulously, “They’re survivalist combat elites whose strength lies in their extreme adaptability and their unusual power sets. The Empire thinks they’re a beaten people, but I think the orcwallah is far from counted out. They’ve got ogre Warlocks there with connections to some really powerful spirits. Of course, they all hate the Empi—” They abruptly stopped talking when they caught Sarah’s uneasy expression. “All the more reason to come out with an ally.”
Sarah nodded, “That’s what I’m trying to do with this whole Quest I’ve taken! If I can manage to get this key thing from the Guardian, I’ll be able to help my teacher and make an ally out of a Jade rank…” She trailed off when she saw Kimi-Lim’s expression. “What?”
“You have to realize that this teacher of yours… he doesn’t exist. Not like you think he does anyway. That Quest. You do know that people can’t give you Quests, right? Unless you picked it up from a Quest Board, the only thing that can give you a Quest directly is the System itself.” Kimi-Lim gestured at their surroundings. “This whole place—everything—is a construct created by an AI. It’s how they can maintain the time loop. The power required to maintain a stable time toop for a Sapphire-rank entity—no matter what form it’s in—is way too high for the System to maintain indefinitely. It’s efficient; it only uses what it needs when it needs it.”
Sarah fell silent for a long time, thinking about what Kimi-Lim was saying. It made more sense than she wanted to admit. It may even explain why her memory of the past few years had been so hazy. Because she’d been actively manipulated by the System. Of course, if everything in here was a construct, wouldn’t that make Kimi-Lim--?
“Oh, and before you get all paranoid on me, no,” Kimi-Lim laughed, “I’m not a construct! Though I guess that’s just what a construct would say. What really matters is this: you and I are going to break this whole place and bag the AI that runs it.”
“What a relief. That still doesn’t solve me getting killed by a bunch of orcs and goblins the moment I—what, just complete the Quest? Hell, if that’s all it is, I could do that now.” Sarah brought up the Quest notification in her System menus and saw that it still showed that she’d completed the main objective of the Quest:
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have completed the main objective of the Tutorial Realm Quest. Do you wish to return to Nolm now?
YES / NO
“No!” Kimi-Lim sprang forward out of their chair awkwardly, “Not yet!”
Sarah cocked an eyebrow, “I wasn’t going to—I was checking to make sure I still could—but now I’m wondering why you’re so freaked out about it.”
Kimi-Lim let out a shaky breath as they collapsed back into their seat, “You really had me going there! If you complete the Quest before I have a chance to modify the exit parameters then your exit portal will only let you exit. Then you won’t have any allies when you hit orcwallah territory.”
“You can do that?” Sarah waved her hand vaguely, “Change the exit parameters? That seems…hard. Not that I’m even ready to buy that Gammon’s not a real person. What you’ve told me…” she shook her head, “it’s a lot to wrap my head around. You’re gonna have to give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need, so long as it’s less than a week. Remember I’ve got a bit of a time limit myself,” they flourished a hand and the tensa battery appeared in it. “And I’ll only be able to change the exit parameters once we have the Guardian.”
“Once we have the—y’know what? I’m gonna go to bed. And maybe when I wake up in the morning, I’ll be able to make sense of everything.”
Kimi-Lim nodded sagely, “Good idea. But don’t worry Sarah,” they winked, “I’ve got a plan.”
Sarah ducked into the tent they’d set up and stretched out on one of the two pallets. She stared up at the fabric ceiling of the tent and thought about what Kimi-Lim said. Kimi-Lim has a plan. Great. Sarah glanced down at her left arm, reflexively curling the mechanical fingers into a fist. She heard the servomotors whir and the click of metal on plastic as her hand obeyed her command, but she felt none of it. Maybe I should just go now. She brought up the Quest once more.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You have completed the main objective of the Tutorial Realm Quest. Do you wish to return to Nolm now?
YES / NO
The Quest in its prim little System box was still floating in front of her eyes when she finally fell asleep. I’ll decide in the morning, she thought as she drifted off, when everything’s clearer. Outside the tent, the fire popped and cracked, casting a diffuse, low-level glow in the tent. Sarah never knew when she fell asleep.