Awaken Online: Unity Read online

  Awaken Online

  Side Quest: Unity

  ______________

  Travis Bagwell

  Copyright © 2019 by Travis Bagwell

  All rights reserved.

  ______

  To my wife, for always accepting who I am.

  Even if I am really annoying sometimes.

  ______

  Contents

  Chapter 1 - Inferior

  Chapter 2 - Adventurous

  Chapter 3 - Frustrated

  Chapter 4 - Constructive

  Chapter 5 - Judged

  Chapter 6 - Druidic

  Chapter 7 - Enlightening

  Chapter 8 - Frustrating

  Chapter 9 - Observant

  Chapter 10 - Frozen

  Chapter 11 - Crafty

  Chapter 12 - Crystalline

  Chapter 13 - Leeching

  Chapter 14 - Intimate

  Chapter 15 - Demonic

  Chapter 16 - Misleading

  Chapter 17 - Broken

  Chapter 18 - Recovered

  Chapter 19 - Confused

  Chapter 20 - Apprehensive

  Chapter 21 - Sympathetic

  Chapter 22 - Realistic

  Chapter 23 - Sneaky

  Chapter 24 - Urgent

  Chapter 25 - Ready

  Chapter 26 - Wounded

  Chapter 27 - Beaten

  Chapter 28 - Vicarious

  Chapter 29 - Reflective

  Chapter 30 - United

  Chapter 31 - Horrific

  Chapter 32 - Merciless

  Chapter 33 - Worried

  Chapter 34 - Alive

  Chapter 35 - Bitter-Sweet

  Chapter 36 - Cathartic

  Chapter 1 - Inferior

  Frank settled back on the couch, and the upholstery groaned under his weight. He winced at the sound, which only served to reinforce that he was in the real world. At least when he was inside Awaken Online, his bulk was a mixed blessing, offering additional strength and momentum. Here, it was just a burden.

  Although, Frank had noticed a few lost pounds and a bit more muscle definition when he glanced at himself in the mirror that morning. He chalked it up to missing a few meals while inside the game. It seemed that he had begun staying logged in for even longer periods of time since he first started playing. Although, this didn’t explain why he felt so sore when he logged out of the game. It was a puzzle.

  His parents had also become strangely supportive of AO – a little uncomfortably so. They used to complain about the hours he spent sitting in front of a screen, and the many diets they had forced on him over the years had been met with mixed results. Ironically, his video game addiction now seemed to be showing steady progress, and they regularly asked him how many hours he had logged lately.

  It was weird and actually kind of frustrating. What exactly had changed? He was the same person he was a few weeks ago, just a little slimmer. It was almost like they didn’t see Frank when they looked at him.

  Which begged the question: what exactly did they see?

  “TV on,” Frank said quietly.

  The house’s AI responded immediately. A display flashed into existence across the wall opposite the couch, and sound suddenly blared throughout the living room. It was still early afternoon, and his parents were at work. His sister was also mercifully absent. He vaguely recalled his parents gushing about some sort of art fair or competition. At this point, he had lost track of Rebecca’s endless stream of events. He was sure she’d bring home some shiny new medal or five, and he’d have to endure another round of congratulations from his parents – along with thinly veiled comments about his own performance at school.

  Frank let out a soft sigh. He needed to savor this downtime. This was one of the rare moments that he got to spend time by himself in the real world.

  To be fair, he didn’t begrudge his sister her achievements. He was proud of her, despite how cruel she could be at times. After all, he knew firsthand how pushy and demanding their parents could be. The issue was that Rebecca’s accomplishments always seemed to highlight his own failings. It was hard to stand in the shadow of another person’s spotlight.

  Even as this thought crossed his mind, he heard a faint click against the wooden floorboards. A moment later, Buddy walked into the room. The black Labrador wagged his tail as he caught sight of Frank. The dog padded over to him and gingerly jumped up on the couch beside Frank. It took Buddy a few practice runs to get the angle right with his aging hips.

  “You know you aren’t supposed to be on the furniture,” Frank said fondly, rubbing Buddy’s head and scratching behind his ears. He noted the way the hair around his mouth and nose had turned a stark gray.

  “But I guess we won’t tell anybody,” Frank continued with a smile. The dog huffed softly and settled down beside him.

  Frank continued petting Buddy as he turned his attention back to the TV. “Change the channel to Vermillion Live,” he ordered.

  The screen shifted. “…devastation was incredible,” a man said, already halfway through his segment. The anchor was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pair of sneakers, the channel clearly trying to cater to its gamer audience.

  “It’s to be expected from Jason,” the woman across from him answered. “For those just tuning in, only a day has passed since the native undead surrounding the Twilight Throne attacked the dark city,” she explained, waving a hand at the wall behind her.

  The surface rippled before transforming into a screen that showcased several images of the destruction around the Twilight Throne. The market was in ruins, debris and craters dotting the courtyard. The ground was still covered in fragments of bone and stained with the blood of the Kin. In the center of it all stood a massive bone hand, its wrist seemingly embedded in the ground. The skeletal palm was now empty. The strange silvery object – the gate piece – was nowhere to be seen.

  Frank winced as he saw the image. He hadn’t been logged in when Alexion’s crew broke him out of his cell and stole the gate piece. Riley had given him the short version of the encounter, barely able to suppress her own anger. He knew she blamed herself for the loss, even though Frank didn’t see any way she could have prevented the theft. She was just a single person. Besides, how could they have known that Alexion would use the in-game chat or that he had a freaking airship?

  Regardless, all three of them were responsible for leaving that car-sized hunk of metal in the middle of the courtyard. At the time, it had seemed reasonable. The native undead had wiped out any potential enemies for miles around, and there were much more significant issues that needed to be addressed. In retrospect, it had still been rather careless, and Frank suspected that Jason’s troubles in the real world might have had something to do with that. He couldn’t imagine the stress he was under right now.

  The only upside was that most of the players didn’t seem to realize that had lost the gate piece or what the empty skeletal hand represented. Frank had only found rumors on the Rogue-Net forums about what the gate pieces looked like and where they might be located. If anyone had any real information, he suspected they were keeping it under wraps.

  “As you can see, the destruction isn’t limited to the market,” the woman continued onscreen. “The native undead ravaged most of the city.”

  The image shifted, showing the southern portion of the Twilight Throne. Several buildings were half collapsed, while others showed obvious signs of the attack, with splintered beams and deep claw marks etched into the wooden siding. The walls on the southern portion of the city were in equally bad shape. Bone fragments had been piled along the fortification, creating a makeshift ramp, and deep indentations had been carved in the stone – the result of Jason’s repurposed Dron
es, no doubt.

  “We expect that it will take weeks – if not months – for the Twilight Throne to recover,” she explained. “Which is good news for any players in the vicinity of the dark city. The risk posed by Jason and his undead is likely minimal right now.”

  “But this may be bad news for anyone unfortunate enough to have started in the undead city or anyone thinking about rolling a new undead character,” the man replied with a frown. “Among the city’s losses were many NPCs, including known quest givers. The death of many of the native creatures has also further weakened the already-difficult leveling in the area. New players are urged to look elsewhere – at least for now.”

  Frank grimaced again. This was yet another unfortunate side effect of the battle. It would take them time to repurpose the towns around the city and rebuild the nests. Morgan was supposed to be creating tiered leveling areas using the new towns, but the progress so far had been slow. Even once they got everything set up, they would likely still be battling public perception.

  “Yet the question on everyone’s mind is still why,” the reporter continued. “Why did the native undead gather together and attack the Twilight Throne? Players have been posing theories for days, but few answers seem to be forthcoming, and Original Sin has been silent on the matter, refusing to answer any questions.”

  “There is at least one clear takeaway from the conflict,” the woman added. “Jason, his guildmates, and his soldiers are not to be trifled with.”

  The image along the back wall shifted again, now showcasing video from the battle in the market. The camera angle was from the perspective of one of the undead soldiers stationed in the courtyard and Frank presumed that the company had bent some of its own rules in order to capture footage of Jason’s activities. Most of the players that had been present in the city – which hadn’t been that many to begin with – had been smart enough to get the hell out of there before the horde of ghouls arrived.

  Frank saw Jason and Riley step into frame. The Regent of the Twilight Throne was clad entirely in bone, ivory plates forming a thick armor around his body. Atop his head rested a sinister helm, with pale horns that jutted into the air. His eyes were little more than sunken pits, tendrils of dark mana curling around the edges of the bone. Jason held his staff with a casual grace. Although Frank couldn’t make out the detail from this distance, he knew that intricate runes were carved in the weapon’s surface.

  While Jason might have struck an imposing figure, Riley wasn’t exactly all smiles and rainbows either. She was robed in black leather tinged with streaks of crimson, and her blonde hair was hidden by a dark hood. The crystalline bow in her hands pulsed with a dull red light, creating a steady rhythm that reminded Frank of a heartbeat. However, it was her eyes that were the most disconcerting. They were solid black, punctuated only by a thin circle of red where her pupils might have been.

  The overall effect gave the impression that she was sizing up her enemy in her crosshairs.

  Suddenly, the western barricade behind the pair blew apart, showering the area in fragments of wood. A cloud of dust billowed into the courtyard and briefly obscured the area. As the debris began to clear, Frank could make out a hulking monstrosity amid the ruined fortification. Its body was stitched together in a patchwork of broken, decayed flesh – arms and limbs attached at awkward, almost-haphazard angles. Beside this monstrosity stood Thorn’s slender frame and Morgan’s robe-covered body.

  Jason and Riley appeared to speak with Thorn and Morgan, although the camera didn’t pick up the dialogue. Frank’s eyes were riveted on Thorn’s grizzled face. Memories of his own death at the man’s hands flashed through his mind. He wished he could have heard what the group had said.

  The moment ended abruptly, and several things happened at once – the movements difficult to follow on-screen amid the chaos.

  Grunt’s hulking form rushed into the scene, blocking a blast of dark energy from Morgan before barreling into the abomination blocking the western road. The pair promptly slammed into a nearby building, causing the entire structure to shudder and begin to collapse. Jerry’s floppy hat also made an appearance as the rogue sprinted toward Morgan and the pair squared off.

  Yet the camera’s attention remained fixed on Jason and Riley. They faced Thorn, whose body was riddled with gray bandages. He held no weapons, although Frank knew that he didn’t need any. This seemingly innocuous one-eyed man was perhaps the most powerful enemy they had ever faced. Frank had experienced this first-hand. This Scion of the Order was a living, breathing weapon.

  The trio stood staring at each other for a heartbeat. Then they moved.

  Frank had already seen the video several times, and the playback had been intentionally slowed down, but he still had difficulty tracking their movements. Riley and Jason were a whirlwind, their limbs practically blurring as they launched an endless barrage of blows. They worked together seamlessly, encircling Thorn and keeping him on the defensive. After his time spent with Vera, Frank noted how precise and controlled their attacks were. They wasted no unnecessary energy as they stabbed and dodged and sidestepped.

  Despite their undeniable strength, Thorn soon overpowered the pair, sending Jason flying away with a blast of dark energy from his palm before turning to face Riley. Frank knew what would happen next, and he muted the video with a short command, rubbing at his eyes to blot out the image onscreen.

  He knew how this ended. He had watched it many times and had read the comments on the dozens of videos that had been posted and reposted online. They broke down into two camps: most raving about Jason’s and Riley’s strength, while others complained about the imbalance inherent in the game.

  Frank had a different takeaway.

  He looked up to see Jason facing off against Thorn once more, this time his body empowered by Riley’s sacrifice – wings of unholy energy drifting away from his back. His now ravaged bone armor had been chipped and torn, but an aura of dark mana swirled around him in a vortex. He looked like a dark god.

  Jason also looked like he was entirely out of Frank’s league.

  And there it was.

  In just a few short weeks in-game, his friends had outpaced him. Frank had barely conquered the outlying villages, hadn’t participated in the Keeper challenges, had lost a full division of the Kin facing off against Alexion’s forces, and had, only through a fluke of luck, managed to secure the gate piece – which they had promptly lost. The only real thing he had to show for his actions in-game lately was claiming the nearby towns, although many had been empty. Also, he suspected that Vera could have handled that task on her own and hadn’t even needed him.

  It was partly his fault, though. He had volunteered to leave the Twilight Throne, and he knew why. It had been fear. He hadn’t wanted to face Thorn again – not after the man had cleaned the floor with him.

  Frank felt weak. Correction, he was weak. At least compared to his friends. Even before they had undergone the Keeper challenges, his skills hadn’t been as useful or flexible as theirs. He had no doubt that in a one-on-one fight, he would surely lose.

  He had no right to call himself the left hand of the Twilight Throne.

  A loud bang interrupted Frank’s morose thoughts, as the front door slammed shut. He looked up sharply as his sister Rebecca stalked into the living room. She had just started high school that fall, and she wore Richmond’s uniform, the familiar crest emblazoned on her jacket. What caught Frank’s attention, however, was the angry cloud that seemed to hover around her and the way her mouth was twisted into a scowl.

  As she caught sight of Frank on the couch, Rebecca’s eyes flashed. “What the hell are you staring at?” she demanded sharply.

  “Nothing,” Frank replied hesitantly, taken aback.

  “Is that right?” she snapped, seeming to focus her rage on Frank. “Nothing?”

  He really wasn’t sure how to answer her question without making the situation worse. Rebecca was clearly upset, but he didn’t know why. Asking her wa
sn’t likely to improve her mood, so he just kept his mouth shut.

  “What, you can’t even bother to answer now?” Rebecca glanced at the screen, noting the video of Jason still playing in the background. “Why are you so fucking useless? I mean, it’s bad enough that you are the fat family-reject, but you can’t even do shit in your stupid fantasy world.”

  She stabbed a finger at him. “You know what? Maybe it’s time you just accepted the inevitable. Maybe you just suck.”

  Frank could only stare back at her. They had had their fair share of fights over the years, but this was different. He had rarely seen her this angry. The last time was when his brother had accidentally ruined one of her paintings.

  He expected the familiar anger and rage he felt in-game to bubble up inside him. Something that would give him the strength to reject what she was saying. Shouldn’t he tell her to go screw herself or storm off? Instead, a small voice inside him simply agreed with her. Her words echoed exactly what he had been thinking for weeks now.

  So instead he grimaced, closing his eyes and balling his hands into fists. Frank heard an irritated huff from Rebecca. “Look at you. You can’t even fight back.”

  Then Frank heard her shoes tapping against the floor as she stormed away. When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. He was once again sitting alone in the living room, Buddy nestled against his side. The dog had raised his head sleepily when Rebecca came in and now looked at Frank with what he interpreted as a confused expression.

  Frank didn’t have any answers for him. He slowly stroked Buddy’s head, trying to will away the frustrated moisture he could feel accumulating at the corners of his eyes. His vision slightly blurry, he focused again on the screen on the far wall. The logo for AO was emblazoned across the screen as the show cut to a commercial break.

  Why couldn’t he stand up for himself? Maybe Rebecca was right. Maybe he really was just a third wheel – both here and in the virtual world.

  Maybe he really was useless.