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  • Ring of Promise: A LitRPG novel (Elements of Wrath Online Book 1) Page 9

Ring of Promise: A LitRPG novel (Elements of Wrath Online Book 1) Read online

Page 9


  How many hurdles would we be jumping through to get to Crystalfire? With a month’s worth of content running up to it; there had to be a lot. Would I be able to keep everyone together for the whole run, especially if we hit a stumbling block? Burndall could seemingly afford to hire more powerful friends than me, and Kayla had a whole raiding guild to lean upon. I liked them both; I didn’t want them to go away, especially Kayla, but let’s be real here, I was pretty sure they weren’t going to stick with me for the long haul. Without them, did I really have a chance to do this?

  I wasted a good thirty minutes in that stupid, pointless funk, listlessly rubbing at my sore neck with my good arm and tapping at surface-level news sites. Idle brain food, really, I wasn’t paying attention. My biggest worry was whether I was setting myself up for failure and not because of my lack of game ability.

  Fortunately, my worry cycle, spinning as fast as a puppy chasing its tail, was put to a halt when Roxanne tapped on my door. “I know you’re not diving, Max,” she said. “Up for some real-life lunch, maybe?”

  Yeah, outside of the finances, I was no good at taking care of real things, something that didn’t make a positive contribution to my feelings of self-worth. Twenty-five, and I couldn’t even take care of myself, it was a disgrace. Still, I couldn’t argue that I was awfully hungry, and besides all that, I did need to talk to Roxanne about other things.

  “Sure thing, I’ll be right out.”

  I powered down the desktop and rolled out to the den while mulling over my million problems. No matter how Roxanne prepared it, lunch was never a fancy affair. It was the meal when Chrissy was usually at school so we could skimp on things to help trim a few dollars off the bills. Synthprotein instead of lunchmeat, NutriWrap over bread, and who can forget the wonderful taste of NurtiGoo as a wonderful side?

  “And people wonder why someone could get addicted to deep-dives?” I muttered as I rolled up to the table where Roxanne was already seated and pouring over paperwork.

  “The sacrifices we make,” she murmured as she looked up at me. “Maybe they’ll come up with some integrated unit that will feed you some tasteless artificial biscuit every time you eat in a game. Wouldn’t that make the world a better place?”

  I rolled my eyes playfully. “Well, no but point made.” I snatched up a glass of water, realizing just how thirsty I was. “I popped out a little early, you’ll be happy to know.”

  “I noticed.” Roxanne had a monitoring app on her tablet linked to our home network, just to keep an eye on us when we deep-dived. It was purely for our health and safety, especially in regards to Chrissy’s prosthetics. Sometimes the NSAF gear didn’t interact well with the similar technology in modern (well, semi-modern) medical units like hers. “I won’t lie; I’m a bit surprised. You had that far-away look this morning. You know the one.”

  I drained the glass and put it down. “Well, I won’t lie. I’m a bit surprised, too.” I poked at the ‘sandwich’ with a wrinkled brow. “But this new job isn’t going to be over quickly.”

  Roxanne sat back in her chair, the tangle of paperwork forgotten for now. Even with how interconnected and integrated the entire world is, we still waste energy and materials on old-fashioned hard copies of things. “It’s this whole Elementalis tournament thing or whatever it is, isn’t it?”

  I had worked up the hunger to take a bite out of the thing. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad, and I shouldn’t have made so much of it; normally I don’t even care. With so much else on my mind, though …

  I didn’t choke on the bite. I only coughed a bit at Roxanne’s question. “You don’t care two flips about the game scene. How do you even know about that?”

  She smirked a hair. “After five years taking care of you, you somehow think I don’t pay attention to the things you like and the work you do?” My nurse’s expression got serious. “Look, I can see how tempting all that money might be, but I don’t know if it’s a smart or healthy thing to focus on.”

  I got my next bite down the right throat hole. “I more than admit it’s a long shot, but there’s a lot of money to be made just by helping players do all the lead-up work. It’ll be the best month we’ve had in a year or two, even if it doesn’t go anywhere.” Shrugging, I continued, “Why shouldn’t I try, right?”

  A long pause hung over the table. Fingering her coffee mug, half-full of steaming sythcafe, Roxanne finally broke the silence. “There’s nothing wrong with trying, of course. We should always try to accomplish things, especially when you have good intentions.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ coming up here,” I snorted, which I admit was uncalled for. “And I am doing this for good intentions. Chrissy –”

  “Yes, Chrissy needs a new arm and repairs on her voice box and a dozen other things, the same as you do,” she interjected. “And it’s great that you’re trying to find new ways to make that happen.” She gestured at her paperwork. “I’m trying to do the same, even if it’s technically against regulations.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about there, but I knew she wasn’t done yet. “We’re not going to get into your concerns over NSAF games again and fantasy and reality and all of that, like your mom?”

  She chuckled a bit at that. “I don’t even call Dr. Fontaine ‘mom’. I always liked that about you even if it grated her nerves.” She shook her head. “You know I don’t agree with her and her hatred of NSAF gaming, but at the same time, you have to see why I worry about you.” She focused her unflinching gaze on me. “When was the last time you left the house, Max? Saw a person face-to-face outside of your family or a doctor?”

  “It’s been a while, sure.” Far longer than I wanted to admit. “But I talk to plenty of people on the ‘Net and down in the dive. You aren’t going to argue that they aren’t real.”

  It was Roxanne’s turn to roll her eyes as she sipped at her ‘coffee’. “I’m not my mother. Yes, those people are real but you don’t exactly make friends with them, do you?” She set her mug down, her hands still cupping it. “Think about this. Have you ever talked about these people as friends to me or Chrissy? It’s always clients and employers and finances when you talk about EO or anything else up here.”

  “Well, what do you expect?” This was a well-trod road for the two of us. I guess it was like any other family. You tend to run into the same problems and the same arguments over and over again. “We need money and games are the only thing I’m good at. Heck, even that is more from all that experimental therapy at the institute, all those hours in deep-dive before therapy tools got turned into video games.”

  “I know all that and … look, I’ve said this plenty of times but I think you can be good at more than gaming.” She sighed. “You are so hard on yourself when you shouldn't be.”

  “Now you sound like the therapists.”

  “Well, I am licensed as one sooooo …” There was a playful hint to her voice, the usual tact she took when she figured it was time to defuse things a bit.

  I wanted to fight as much as she did so I took to the given out. “I’ll forgive you.” I stirred my spoon in the NutriGoo and marveled at its viscosity, the spoon managing to stand straight upright when I let it go. “But maybe I’ll concede you might have a point and maybe I might have met some folks I think I might actually like, you know, outside of being business partners.”

  The tentative smile I got in return was an honest one. “That would be a positive development, for sure. Is this ‘maybe’ closer to a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’? And if it’s ‘yes’, is there any chance you want to talk about these maybe friends?”

  Deciding I needed to stay healthy, I took a spoonful of the goo. If it was good enough for Chrissy, it was good enough for me. The flavor was one of my ‘favorites’ at least, the wholly artificial banana flavor of those circus peanut candies. “I know you’re coming at this as part of the family, but it still sounds an awful lot like the therapist.”

  “Just because they can be prying and annoying doesn’t make them entirely
wrong, kiddo.” Well, that was the truth.

  I shrugged; what could it hurt to talk about my new potential friends? Pondering the right way to describe Burndall without bringing up Gems, Classes, and all of that, I said, “Okay, well, one of them actually is a client, but I still like him. I’m pretty sure he’s a bit younger than me, but he really seems like an all right kid. Generous, too, even if he’s a bit free with his mouth too.” I laughed. “But I guess I’m that way so how can I hold that against him, right?”

  “Better an honest friend who might be too blunt over someone who won’t be straight with you,” she mused, sipping at the dregs of her mug. “And, to be blunt myself, generosity is something we could really benefit from.”

  Shaking my head a little, I cracked a grin. “That’s for sure, but he’s like an endearing little puppy. I’d probably like him despite the money.” The grin slipped into a smile as my mind drifted to Kayla. “The other one is a real pro player, but she seems, well, nice. Like she cares about the group, even though she doesn’t really have to?” I frowned thoughtfully. “But not that sort of artificial caring that people who are on the same team have. Maybe I’m reading more into it than what’s there but …” I shrugged at a loss for words. “Anyway, she’s been a big help, and she’s damn good at EO, which is a big plus in my book.”

  Roxanne arched an eyebrow as she matched my smile. “A girl, eh? Now when was the last time you talked to one of those about something besides bills, medical care, and homework?”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. “Really? You’re, what, a decade older than me and that’s what you’re going to say?”

  She laughed, a clean, clear sound that brightened my smile a bit just to hear it. “Well, someone has to do it, right? Chrissy’s not here to tease you.” She wiped at the corner of her eye. “All the same, that’s good and not just because you should talk to more women. The more actual friends you make, the better, even if they are only over the networks.”

  I chuckled. “I’m glad you approve then. I’ll be seeing them later tonight so fingers crossed, huh?”

  “Just make sure to set your alarm so that you’re out for dinner,” she said with a nod. “I know you’re doing this for Chrissy, but she still needs to see you every day as much as possible. There is a real world here that cares about you.”

  Was that really the case? Not counting Roxanne or Chrissy, were there any people outside of EO that did indeed give two craps about me? There were days, plenty of them, where I would much prefer to be hooked up to the NSAF with life support to live out my days in a place where I could walk and run and, well, feel like I was worth a damn.

  “Max?”

  How long had I drifted off into my own bullcrap this time?

  “Uh, what?” Roxanne was giving me the concerned look again so it must have been way too long. “Oh, sorry, I drifted off a bit. Just trying to figure out the bills for the month, you know?”

  I was sure she didn’t believe me as she nodded slowly and turned her eyes back to the paperwork on the table. “Okay, Max. If you find enough for the thousand-dollar co-pay to get Chrissy’s new arm, let me know.”

  My jaw set. No matter what I thought about myself, I knew I had to pull myself together. No matter what the others might wind up thinking about me, I was keeping the group together. “I’ll figure out something, Roxanne, I promise.”

  She glanced sidelong at me, stared for just a moment, then nodded. “We both will.”

  I know there's a lot of talk about expanding game mods and expanded data transfer for the creation of out-of-dive wikis, simulation programs, and a host of other computational and meter mods. While I'd love to say that this is something we can do, there is a big problem when it comes to data moving in and out of the Deep Dive and the main internet. Once the Filter was put up, the NSAF Regulation Council has been super strict on this sort of thing. Sorry, champions! Our hands are tied!

  Havoccore, EO community administrator, State of Elementalis Q & A 2219

  The only way for players in Elementalis Online to share any offline information is to quest together for a Ring of Promise. Once the necessary quests have been completed, the two players (who must undergo the quests as a two-person group, no more or less) can then build Trust Points which allows for increasing degrees of personal information to be shared between them without activating the Filter.

  From the Filter page, EO Internal Wiki

  9

  No one was back on yet when I dove back to Elementalis. There was a brief pang of worry that mixed with the usual joy of being Shale again. We had agreed to meet up after our login timers had reset so my first instinct was that I’d done some unknown something to make them want to avoid me. It was stupid, sure, but that was me. At least, I managed to shake that off by the time I had made the full drop and Granholm Plaza resolved around me.

  Five hours had done nothing to quell the hustle and bustle of the crowds. After a long moment of people-watching, something I hadn’t felt the desire to do in some time, I realized I should make the most of my time waiting for the others (assuming they showed, my inner skeptic felt required to remind me) so I made my way across the plaza towards Chiselmark Row, the crafter’s quarter.

  After the devs put out the patch that let people do trades outside of the designated ‘craft areas’, Chiselmark quieted down quite a bit, mostly occupied by roleplayers and avatars getting their initial trades. That made the neat, symmetrical line of chiseled stone stalls and larger trade halls the perfect place to sit down and sort out gear and Gems.

  My favorite spot was the Smith’s Hall, and so that’s where I wound up. The round hall was one of the largest buildings on the Row, the carved stones of the walls accented with ornamental weapons, shields, and pieces of armor meant to show off the creativity and artistry of the blacksmith guildmasters. The decorative theme held true to the interior as well, at least in the entrance hall, while the actual masters worked the forges and anvils that dominated the center of the main chamber. Along the walls were workbenches made for finer metalwork and engraving. Outside of a small collection of Craggar and Ember NPC smiths hard at work, the place was dead, perfect for my purposes.

  I settled my bulk of stone and armor at one of the benches, setting my slab shield to one side as I mentally opened the Inventory UI in front of me with the Herald tab opened off to one side. I set the Herald to fire off an alert if my friends sent a message and I missed it while I was engrossed in playing with my Gems. While the hall wasn’t quiet in the conventional sense, the constant ringing of the hammers formed a comforting rhythm that helped me think. A good thing too, as it was time to play with Gems.

  The Gem system was the core of the game, after all, so I took these quiet moments seriously. While I might not have access to the inventory of a raider like Kayla did, I spent plenty of time between jobs trying to get the best ones I could lay my hands on. After all, if I couldn’t deliver, I didn’t get paid, and if I didn’t get paid, well, Chrissy would suffer more than me.

  At least I didn’t have too much to consider at that moment. In older games before NSAF, this would be a simple thing. Datamining used to be a big thing, easy without the Filter up, so even for a rarely played Class like mine there would be sims. Nowadays, well, with thousands and thousands of Gems, no easy data, a fresh patch, and being at the bottom of the meta-game meant I had to do my work in-game, timer or not.

  I had my nifty new banner in my virtual bags as well as that one Grade S Raid Orders Gem from good old Scorchie to think about. There had been a buff to Order Mod Gems in general in the patch notes, confirming my suspicions after Burndall’s little pyrotechnics show earlier. Between that and the extra Gem slot the Banner of Two Nations provided, I had to rethink a few things.

  So you can obviously mentally scan each item in your inventory, have the data pop right into your brain down to the last decimal, but it can be hard to compare all that data over multiple items, even if you’re as attuned to the NSAF interface as I am. I pe
rsonally preferred, when I had time like this, to materialize everything out of the bag, where I could compare things side by side. It was a nice nod to immersion that you would do this, not just look at icons in your inventory but lay them out before you like an old-fashioned arsenal. Naturally, to guard against prying eyes and to minimize distractions for other players, no one else could see the things you were examining.

  I suppose that did look kind of weird to anyone passing by but we had all seen weirder. Besides, anyone who’d played for more than a few days would instantly realize what I was doing anyway.

  First things first. I removed the four Gems set into my Granholm Banner and laid them in a neat row on the bench. My new banner was a clear upgrade in every sense so there were no choice points there. With a flick of my mind, my old ‘weapon’ dissipated into a cloud of sparkling wisps and passed into my pack. I could sell it or break it down into elemental shards for crafting later. My new banner flashed into existence with another thought, and I was blown away by the beauty of the thing.

  The pole and crossbar were of stout wood with a red lacquer finish, making it gleam in the orange glow of the forges. Both the butt of the banner and the tip were capped in polished gold with inlaid turquoise, the bottom end shaped and sharpened into a broad spike for planting in the earth. The banner itself hung proudly off the crossbar, a long, silk affair edged with gold and split between the crest of the Mountain King on the right and the Ocean Queen on the left. More gold-and-turquoise settings marked the Gem sockets where the pole and bar met while the sole socket near my thumb was a simple cavity in the wood itself, as if there had been a natural knothole in the wood that had been carefully cleared and polished to make a space without compromising the strength of the banner.

 

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