The Charismatic Glass Cannon

With the rest of my copied shards, I was able to buy the mythic ranked loot boxes of Race, Spell Tome, and the discounted Food from the random vending machine. I walked back in and found a table in a corner by myself so that I could open them without looking too weird looking like I was staring off into space. While there was a variety of races present here it didn’t seem like anybody else had much magic or an interface.

I saved the spell tome for last, still having not recovered from the last few times I had opened one. I started with the Mythic Ranked Food Loot Box, curious about what it contained. As I clocked it, three items appeared in my inventory, with my interface taking over.

Pepperoni Pizza Slice of Temporary Toughness. This slice of pizza grants the user half damage from all Mythic class attacks and below. This effect lasts three hours.

LambAss bread. One bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man. Tastes like lamb wrapped in flatbread. That is if that lamb was cooked to perfection and dunked into a recently used and unflushed truck stop public restroom toilet and the flatbread was used to wipe a trucker’s ass.

Popsicle of Resist Cold. It might look like the SpongeBob popsicle you got from that felon working in that ice cream truck when you were a kid. You know the one with its eyes all cockeyed looking nothing like the picture you hoped for? But trust me on this where that popsicle shatters your hopes this one will give you some. User is resistant to cold for six hours.

I was excited about the pizza. Not that it would do much good. Woopidy-Do now 4 damage would kill me and not just 2. I was excited about the bread when it talked about filling a grown man’s stomach with one bite until the description continued. I clicked on the race one next my interface talking.

You have already been assigned race Chaos Myar assigned via Mythic Starting Loot Box. User must assign the race assigned via random race loot box openings. User must be level 5 in order for race transformation to occur. User may use another race to change assigned race at level 10.

Finally, it was time for another spell tome loot box. I was excited, sitting in my corner, hoping nobody was watching as I knew I must have looked strange. I was aiming for the mysterious Strider look, but I knew that was unlikely. Giddily staring off into space is not a good look for anyone.

You have received the spell Speak with Mundane Animals!

I put my head in my hands, resting it on the table. FUCK THIS GAME. This has to be personal. There’s no way this was random. I pounded the table in frustration, earning glances from a three-eyed guy at a table a nearby table.

Bad luck with the dice roll on this one, bub. With Mythic Loot Boxes, you have an increased chance for rarer and higher-tier spells, but there’s still a chance for shittier ones. Looks like the RNG gods bent you over the chair and had their way with you. Just like I wish Keep would do to me.

Forget I said that.

Normally, this spell gives the target the temporary ability to speak with mundane animals. Who knows what will happen when you use it. As always, I’m excited to see how this goes.

I got up and made my way to the bar, catching Keep’s attention and ordering an ale. It tasted bad, but it let me live out my internal brooding at the bar feeling externally. I was onto my second ale when a group walked into the inn, metaphorically electrifying the patrons. Everyone was now talking in hushed tones, staring at the group.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Keep.

I turned around fully to view the group, giving them more than just a glance. There were two men and a woman, all human-looking, at least from this distance.

“They are sending the Watchmen to the cemetery tonight. There have been incidents over the last few nights. The town cleric went missing with his acolytes.”

“The Watchmen?”

“There the town militia. They’re just a volunteer force except for the chief. We have the fortress armada here now, but we like them to mostly focus on pirates. The Watchmen keep peace within the town. There are always weird things happening in these parts, but frequent sightings of extra unusual things in the last few days have many on alert. The last straw was our town cleric going missing last night, and there were confirmed reports of him and his acolytes going to the cemetery. The fortress is threatening to step in if it goes much further. We like to have them out of our business as much as possible, so they want to take care of it themselves.”

The one in the front looked well-built, a true warrior, with a large sword attached to his back. And when I say large, I mean anime large.

“Who are they?”

“Braar Nicchead has been our Chief Watchman for the last few years. The first non-local to ever be in the position besides our first watchman. He was from a nomadic tribe far away in-” Keep said being cut off.

“We could use a few more if anyone has the courage,” said Braar in a gruff booming voice.

A message appeared, a small interface window popping in front of me.

[Quest Offered: Do you want to join the Watchmen to investigate the cemetery?]

[Reward: Estimated 1-10 renown.]

“Brail is Braar’s wife,” Keep said, continuing. “She is a local. Was a watchman before Braar even came to this island.”

“No one has the guts to join us?” Braar said looking around.

“The last is Fussze Sprat. His father was one of the worst criminals on the island, and he has clawed his way out of that reputation hole his father dug. He would have been the Chief Watchman if not for his father.”

“So be it. If nobody has the guts, we will go at it alone,” Braar said, taking one last look around at the inn patrons.

It didn't seem great, but I needed the renown. Potentially getting 10 would be a nice start towards 100. I was rested and didn't know what else I was going to do tonight.

“I will go,” I said standing to my feet and looking at Braar.

Braar looked at me for a moment, then turned and walked out of the inn, Fussze and Brail behind him. I wasn’t sure if that was an invitation to follow or a warning, but I decided to follow.

As I left the inn, I saw them already making their way down the dimly lit path in a direction I had yet to travel. Lanterns hung on large poles barley illuminated the street in both directions. I jogged briefly, my lungs on fire, to catch up to them.

“Hello,” I said through a pant, “the name is Kent. Just got to town earlier today.”

“I have you down as a person of interest, Kent. Did you know that?” Braar said, stopping and turning around to stare me down.

“Me? Person of interest?” I replied with a gulp.

I’m not going to lie, this guy was intimidating. I stood pretty tall, the wizard hat even adding to that height. The height on top of the physical muscles under my robes from the neckless I thought I was an imposing figure, at least from the outside. But Braar had a few feet on me in both directions.

“We received a report that you appeared out of thin air right in the middle of town. The Jenson boy was scared something fierce when he came to me. He was on his way to get some water, you see. I asked around a little, and Keep said you told him you came in with the Juneflower. The Juneflower had no records of you on board.”

I hesitated for a moment. The truth was too crazy to explain, and I knew I had to rely on my charisma here, but I didn’t want to completely lie either.

“I never said I came in on the Juneflower. Keep just assumed and I was not able to correct him. I am on a quest most dire and was transported here by a powerful wizard. I plan to prove myself and approach Colonel Ortez for information on completing my quest. I mean nobody harm,” I said.

The opaque cartoon bubble-looking hearts were floating over his head, popping as they traveled. The hearts were barely visible, only slightly showing any color. I was getting pretty nervous until I saw Braar deflate slightly at my last words, wondering if my charisma had anything to do with it. Or maybe he was just convinced the old-fashioned way with the whole barely colored hearts. What I said was mostly true. Except you just had to replace powerful wizard with sadistic fucked up exhibit A of humanity’s failure to pay attention when they watched the Matrix.

“What quest is this?” Braar said suspiciously.

Fuck. I didn’t even know what the quest was. Could I say that? Should I say something else?

“It has yet to reveal itself. That is all I know. I must prove myself and then approach the Colonel,” I said.

“How do we know we can trust you? How do we know it’s not you doing all this?” Braar said.

“You know that he just got here, honey,” Brail said taking his arm. “You saw it on the island manifest, and he is not the first to just show up like this.”

“Island manifest? Not the first?” I asked.

“A gift from the queen to the Watchman a few years back when they were constructing the fortress. Payment and an agreement that the Watchmen hold jurisdiction within the town. A magical manifest that lists every person on the island. It lists when they arrive and when they leave,” Braar said.

Braar then turned and continued to walk as I trailed behind them, not answering my second question.

As we crested the hill, Braar pointed at the cemetery. We could see it glowing in the moonlight. A fucking huge moon hung in the sky behind the cliff, and the inn area shadowed the cliff, blocking the light. The cemetery jetted out into the ocean on its own little peninsula, mostly covered in eerie fog continuously rolling in from the ocean to solely reside at the cemetery.

“Creepy,” I muttered under my breath.

We walked down the path until we were at the fog line. Braar took out his weapon and the others followed. Have I mentioned how large Braar’s sword was? Because it was huge. The sword had to be at least five feet tall and at least a foot wide. Brail took out her bow and notched an arrow. Fussze had a strange weapon I thought was just a hammer around his waist earlier. On one end of the hammer was a typical hammer end; the center shaft was multiple feet long until you got to the other end, which had what looked like the part on a hammer where you would take a nail out, except it was longer and more hook-like.

As we entered the fog, I was could only see about 10 feet in front of me. The fog, paired with the high grass around the cemetery, made it possible for anything to jump out at us, without us even noticing. In that moment, I seriously considered turning around. It was scary as shit. Fog, moonlight, and being in a cemetery was the fucking recipe for a horror movie.

I might have had more confidence if I had something other than a flash grenade that would, most likely, hurt my allies more than a zombie. After that thought, flashes of the college kids cross my mind, making me physically sick. I shook my head, trying to push away the memories. I didn’t think talking with animals would be of much help in this situation, unless there were zombie cats. I chuckled at my strange thought and received a weird look from Fussze.

We were slightly spread out now, with Braar right next to me, Brail barely in sight due to fog, and I couldn’t see Fussze anymore. I assumed Braar didn’t trust me, which was why he was glued to my side. After taking a few steps, Fussze called out, asking us to come over.

As Braar and I approached Fussze’s call, I looked down and saw tattered white cloth chunks scattered around. Then I saw him, the cleric propped up on a headstone, with flesh-colored fungus-like mushrooms visible throughout his exposed skin. It wasn’t a mushroom like Mario eats but the ones that grow on the sides of trees. All of the cleric’s veins were swollen and thick. Fussze went to investigate and, as he bumped the cleric’s foot, a mushroom on top of the clerics head split open, releasing spores into the air. Fussze coughed and backed away, coughing louder and louder. A piece of cloth on my robes moved up to cover my face, a thin mesh that didn’t obstruct my vision too much. I hoped it would protect me.

“Are you okay?” Braar asked.

“I think so,” Fussze replied, followed by another short cough.

I didn't like the state of the cleric or those spores, so I went into my inventory and grabbed the slice of pizza. I knew I should probably save it, but in that moment, I didn’t want to take any chances. There was no respawn in this game that I knew of, and self-preservation was top on my list.

I tried to make a copy of the pizza, but it didn’t work. I didn’t think it would, given the pizza’s magical nature, but I had to try. However, being manaless for the next 20 or so minutes in this place didn’t sound appealing, especially when all I had to show for it was another slice of pizza. I ate the pizza and turned to see the three watchmen staring at me with their jaws dropped.

“You're really going to eat at a time like this?” Fussze said coughing again.

The pizza was surprisingly good. Eating it gave me a weird sense of being at home, a sensation I had rarely felt since being in this fucked up place. I had really lucked out getting this pizza. But considering how how this game had treated me so far, I wasn’t so sure.

You have ingested a Pepperoni Pizza Slice of Temporary Toughness. This slice of pizza grants the user half damage from all Mythic class attacks and below. But it looks like it couldn’t make you tough enough to stop you from being a winey ass little bitch. That must be a god like infliction. The user takes half damage from damage Mythic level and below for the users next three hours.

When I checked my interface, I could see the timer counting down as a status effect in my character overview tab.

We kept moving, and it didn't take long before we started to see the acolytes. They wore similar, albeit more simplistic, long robes as the cleric and had the same fleshy mushroom growths, swollen veins, and fungus on their skin.

“Don't touch them,” Braar warned.

We continued moving until we reached a patch of the cemetery with less fog. There were rows of headstones typical of a cemetery. As a small breeze blew, it cleared some of the fog, and I could see a crypt in front of us. Or whatever you call a building with a door in a cemetery, unsure about the word crypt, I named it the “fuck that door.” The “fuck that door” had a few stone steps leading up to a large open stone door, with two stone-carved pillars next to it and a symbol I didn’t recognize above the door on the archway.

“That was closed yesterday,” Braar said, eyeing the “fuck that door.”

Then we heard rustling, and a figure bolted from our left running into the crypt. It was so fast, just a blur. I hadn't noticed my adrenaline spike until I saw my hand shaking in my peripheral vision. I was fucking freaked. The watchman moved towards the open door, and I followed more afraid of being alone here than getting closer to the “fuck that door.”

“We're going down there?” I said, my voice shaky.

“Seems to be where something went. Have a better idea?” Braar replied.

“Yeah, come back at daylight with the whole army,” I suggested.

Nobody answered me as they continued to move towards the opened doorway. We were right about to the doorway when we heard a moan from behind us.

We all turned to see the cleric shambling towards us. He wasn’t moving too fast, more like a leisurely zombie walk without having his arms out. His motions were a little too jerky to be considered normal. He moaned again as the mushrooms all over his skin opened, releasing more spores. The spores quickly spread out and then stilled, floating almost reaching where we were. The spores glinted in the moonlight, and one might say it was pretty if you could get the thought of potentially being infected out of your mind. Beyond the idea of contracting an infectious disease, having a guy that looked a lot like a zombie coming towards you with what looked like the intent to eat you, yeah, that preoccupied one’s mind.

Then we saw the acolytes moving, adding their moans to the clerics. The acolytes were darting around inhumanly fast, quite the contrast from the cleric walking leisurely straight for us. Damn, I was really hoping for all slow zombies. The cleric was moving straight towards us as the acolytes darted around in a semicircle blocking our path to escape. Our only choices were to fight or go into the “fuck that door.”

“Erevan! It is me, Braar. Stop your approach at once. We can talk about this,” Braar said.

The cleric didn’t stop, still slowly approaching, the acolytes unwavering in their darting containment semicircle moving towards us, slowly boxing us in. Next to me, I saw warm light and looked to see Brail lighting the tip of an arrow, cloth wrapped around right below the arrowhead.

Without any further discussion, she loosed the arrow, striking an acolyte that had darted closer. I had no idea how she was able to hit the guy. I could barely see them move. The acolyte screamed as the fire spread over its body, igniting a lot faster than I would have thought. In my peripheral vision, I saw Brail make a face, eyebrows raising in her own surprise at the effectiveness of the shot.

Brail shot two more arrows, taking out two more acolytes as Fussze and Braar stayed near, weapons drawn at the ready.

“I’ve got three more… and there’s four of them,” she said after loosing another that struck another acolyte.

The acolyte caught fire, consuming him in a large torrent of flame before it died out, a charred body now on the ground. There were three acolytes left running a larger pattern, the cleric still moving slowly towards us.

“Hand the three arrows to me,” I said quickly before Brail notched her next arrow.

She looked at me and hesitated, her eyes going to Braar, who I am pretty sure silently said no. She finally handed them over, and I held them in my hand, duplicating them, three more appearing in my other hand. I handed her the six arrows.

She lit and notched another arrow and then another and then another, taking down all the last three acolytes. She now had another one lit and notched, pointed towards the cleric. She shot, but the cleric jerked inhumanly fast, dodging the projectile. Looks like he was faking his slowness earlier. She shot again, and he dodged once more. She only had two lightable arrows left.

I chugged one of my excellent mana potions, which quickly brought my mana up to full. The cleric was on us then as Braar swung out his weapon, slicing only air as the cleric ducked. The cleric lunged, pushing off with both feet, slamming his head into Braar’s chest. Spores exploded out clouding my vision. Fussze swung with his hammer, hitting the cleric on the back. Brail pulled back a flaming arrow and hit the cleric, who burst into flames.

Braar and Fussze panted between deep coughs, the cleric’s charred body on the steps still smoking.

I'm not sure that really counts as participating, making three arrows and then just watching. Also, did those really do much of anything to help? She had enough to take down the acolytes. I guess that final shot did something.

“What, cough, has come over, cough, them?” Fussze said.

“I’m not sure,” Brail replied. “But I think we will find answers through there,” she said, pointing towards the darkness behind the “fuck that door.”

“That was quite the trick you had with the arrows. That may as well have saved us,” Fussze said.

“Least I could do. Felt like I just sat here watching for most of that. Oh, I have some healing pills if either of you need one,” I said to Braar and Fussze.

“Healing pills? Are they better than this?” Fussze said, taking a healing potion flask from his belt.

“Probably not,” I replied, feeling dumb.

Fussze and Braar chugged their potions, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on their coughs.

“Let’s move forward so we can get back and I’ll wake up Uleen to brew us up something, cough, for our coughs,” Braar said.

Brail and I seemed to be the only two not coughing from the spores.

We stood in front of the “fuck that door,” and I was spooked. I reached out to Kiwi, trying to build my confidence.

Hey Kiwi. If I survive, what level will I see my family? I thought again.

That’s fucking right.

Braar led the way as we descended into the doorway stairs leading down, pure darkness in front of us.