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I sighed. "Look, Lash, we just got back. We still need to rest and resupply and all that."

  "Suit yourself. But if you pansies were smart, you'd get in while the getting was good. I joined on a couple days ago. That and being the highest-level player in their faction will open a lot of doors. You all could make a killing." She turned to Kyle. "Even you, dumbass." Her heavy glove punched his breastplate hard. Players couldn't damage each other in town, but the blow shoved him aside. "Sorry," said Lash. "Old habits die hard." They all laughed and headed to the gate.

  Izzy and I traded smirks.

  "Seriously?" asked Kyle. He hissed and stomped toward our tower.

  "Relax," I called after him. "Her level might impress the crusaders, but you realize the three of us are the only level 9 players in Haven."

  He was still pissed about the run-in with Lash, but he should've been proud of his level. The first few were easy to grind, especially when unlocking hidden crowns. But leveling thresholds grew exponentially more difficult around the 5 mark. A little over a week since the last wipe, the majority of players were still stuck there. Level 9 was an incredible achievement.

  Well... we couldn't deny the huge factor luck had been. We were super high level after taking advantage of a glitched 100-level quest boss that wasn't supposed to be loose. A third of the gifted experience was divided across three hundred Stronghold residents, but two-thirds was divided across our party. No one really inflicted significant damage against the one-eyed pagan god, but I'd been the one that subdued him with the titanslayer.

  Come to think of it, Lash must have received a larger portion of the XP than most. It was the only way to explain her level. Unfortunately, we were all so high it was only a matter of time before other players started catching up to us. We wouldn't be gaining levels for a while.

  As we pushed through the masses, the path to Oldtown was more lively than usual. A bustling main thoroughfare made sense, but there was nothing to do in Oldtown. It was a complete dead zone. Yet packs of men and women crowded close. They cheered us as their champions as we walked by. It once again made me uncomfortable.

  Izzy totally basked in it. I'd accused her of being an attention whore before. On the surface, she wanted the admiration of the people for her great deeds. More XP than anyone, including me. One of the only pixies in the Midlands. Investor father aside, Izzy's accomplishments were impressive, even more so because she hadn't been a huge gamer in life.

  But really, she was just a big show-off. She wasn't loved by the people as much as she was feared. It was infamy. And, despite desperately seeking their approval, Izzy didn't truly enjoy the limelight. It was a good show she put on. But I knew her secret. She was an introvert who'd had a difficult life and dealt poorly with rejection. She'd taken so well to Haven because of pure escapism. Not a gamer, her fantasy fix came in novel form. She spent so much time at the library it was no wonder she was so knowledgeable about everything.

  And my secret was that I liked her for it. I'd witnessed a vulnerability that was invisible to everyone else. Her sharp exterior was for the public, but I knew better. Izzy couldn't wait to leave this crowd behind any more than I could.

  Things got worse before they got better. The fan club thinned but drifters took their place. Deeper into Oldtown, the demographics quickly shifted. That nagging feel that the city was different wasn't so nagging anymore. Lingering hopelessness filled the ruined streets. People huddled together and sat on stoops of destroyed buildings, completely aimless.

  "All these people..." I murmured.

  Izzy's face soured. "See those long boots? They're refugees from Shorehome."

  "Sucks to be them," teased Kyle. "Fishermen in a landlocked city? That's a raw deal."

  I clenched my jaw. His humorous analysis was spot on. If Shorehome had fallen two days ago, these merchants must've fled in the events leading up to that. Their ships, their houses—they must've left everything behind. Now they were in a foreign city and unable to ply their trade.

  My face darkened as we pushed through them to the tower. The area was given ample clearance, due to some combination of the magic aura of Dragonperch and the petrified remains of the kneeling cyclops. Orik the titan. The god. But he wasn't dead for good. This was the afterlife, after all. If the pagans recovered and refit the Eye of Orik, the blind titan would stand once again.

  Death wasn't permanent, life was. Unlike the real world, true change couldn't come from death. It came from other means. Transitions of power. Uprooted livelihoods.

  "The great heroes of Stronghold!" I turned to wave to the group of men before noticing the scorn in their eyes.

  I swallowed. This wasn't my fault. They didn't have a right to blame me. I was about to reply when Izzy put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  "Nothing you say is going to ease their burden." Her eyes sparkled indigo. There was a kindness in them. I knew Izzy was capable of it—I just didn't usually see it.

  I took a slow breath. The men jeered and mocked but ultimately turned back to themselves. "You're probably right." I moved to the large door of Dragonperch. The wards glowed faintly as we approached. The door rumbled loose and opened before us.

  We were home.

  0580 Tiny Tower

  "They hate us," I said, safely inside the den. "They're here begging for scraps and we're out there leveling and they hate us."

  Kyle had his hands on his hips. "Don't forget that they're sleeping outside and we have this huge tower to ourselves."

  "That too."

  "You know that's different," reasoned Izzy. "This tower might be dangerous to those uninvited. We've barely unlocked half the rooms. Who knows what's lurking in this place or if the rumors of monsters are true?"

  I shrugged. Sometimes logic is just a comfortable excuse.

  It was true enough that much of Dragonperch was still locked to us. Despite wielding the dragonspear—the key to the tower—we'd thus far only had access to basic amenities. Personal quarters. The kitchen, the den. Stockrooms below. The roof. There was a war room, but it just consisted of a big table. The "mysterious library" was only half accessible, no doubt reserving its more valuable tomes to be unlocked at a later date.

  Don't get me wrong. Dragonperch was a sweet setup. Much cooler than the little domes in Hillside. But too many doors remained barred, too many secrets undiscovered. Were there weapons or valuables in here? Arcane treasures? Precious resources? What was the damned purpose of this tower?

  Besides the strong magic keeping it locked down, it was obvious Dragonperch was waiting for the right people and the right time. Throughout extensive digging, Izzy had found the winter staff in a secret compartment. A winter staff for a frost mage? No question in my mind it was fate, or whatever passed for it in the simulation.

  I didn't tell anyone, but I was starting to feel like an impostor here. No secret stashes for me yet. I guess I couldn't complain. I had the dragonspear, a legendary weapon of its own. Really, Kyle was the one rightfully bummed out about his being excluded. So maybe we were both impostors. Izzy was the star player. What were we? A down-on-his-luck frat boy and a simple thief who'd robbed the mantle and tower from whoever the rightful owner was supposed to be.

  Izzy planted her butt in a high stool. "Trust me, boys. The best thing to do is keep your head down and continue grinding. Everyone else will work themselves out."

  I sighed. "It's easy for you to say that, Izzy. Everybody respects you. You were the notorious badass in Stronghold long before I was ever uploaded."

  "Hey, we're all in this together."

  "That's not exactly true," I said. Kyle crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen bar, studying the floor. "These people are in Stronghold because of me. I was the one that was tricked by Lucifer. I was the reason Orik breached the walls."

  "You were the reason he was defeated," she said incredulously. "We all were."

  "But didn't they follow the same game plan? The sacking of Shorehome was the spiritual successor to the Stronghold raid."
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  "You're reaching, Talon. You didn't steal any artifacts for them. If anything, your actions helped warn the saints of the dangers. Lucifer's been outed. Colonel Grimwart said the Great Well was secured. You might be the only reason the pagans didn't get to the game code."

  I grunted halfheartedly. I wasn't so much of a self-loathing asshole that I couldn't concede the points she'd made. My feelings stemmed from deeper fears than being Lucifer's fall guy. The mantle of Protector of Stronghold saw to that. I was an inadequate fit for it. I mean, what I'd accomplished was the dream of any MMO player anywhere, but Lucifer had taught me that Haven wasn't just a game. This was my life now. And the lives of many other people might just depend on me.

  "Screw the pagans then," I conceded. "Let's just focus on me. Can anyone really say that my presence has made Haven better? You think I haven't heard the whispers in the streets?"

  "What whispers?"

  "Everybody feels pain because of me."

  Izzy bit her lip. I'd taken actions to make the game state and player profiles fully permanent. I'd been successful, but the victory had come with numerous unintended consequences. First and foremost was the stripping of the pain filters. Even in a digital-reality simulation, the human brain perceives threats to its existence and reacts with pain. It's an evolutionary trait for self-preservation that a lack of nerves had failed to skirt.

  I had no idea why the devs couldn't just patch in fixes to undo some of the damage I'd caused. Part of me thought it was punishment to the players for revolting. Punishment to me for inciting them.

  "Do you think everybody out there really wants to live in a Heaven with pain? A reality that practically forces the populace into combat to level up and thrive? On top of that, the respawn lockdown changed from four hours to a full day now. People really love that one."

  "That's not so bad," said Izzy.

  "Don't bullshit him," cut in Kyle. "He's right. Those changes suck. We can't pretend bad things didn't come with the good just to make ourselves feel better. The situation sucks, and we're the best people to blame for it." He scoffed. "I always thought admiration would come with being high level, but there's just as much jealousy too. I don't wanna deal with this crap anymore. If anybody needs me, I'll be in the basement."

  Kyle stomped down the stone staircase. He was in an especially foul mood because we heard him all the way down. We didn't try to stop him.

  Kyle had taken over one of the stockrooms and built a brewery down there. It was a great place to practice his alchemical crafting, but mostly he was making ale. Given his current spirits, he was bound to do just as much drinking as crafting right now.

  Izzy rested her hand on mine. "I hate to say it, but he's got the right idea. Honestly, a little R&R is what everybody needs right now. I left a half-finished urban fantasy in the library. Why don't you blow off some steam in the Pleasure Gardens?"

  I frowned. It seemed decadent. Uncaring. Throwing silver around for the spa treatment while ignoring the town's problems didn't sit well. I couldn't even drink right now. At the same time, as tired as I was, I wasn't comfortable cooped up in Dragonperch. But what else was I supposed to do? We'd technically been helping clear the countryside. Ridding the area of pagan threats. Making Stronghold safer.

  Was the populace really better off?

  "They hate me," I said softly.

  "They don't know you. And if they still hate you, fuck 'em."

  I chuckled and met her eyes again. She was being especially nice to me, which meant Kyle was right about speaking plainly. Something wasn't working and I didn't have a clear enough head to figure out what to do about it. I looked deeply at Izzy and knew she could make almost anything better. I leaned in.

  Izzy backed off with a quick shake of her head. "I'm... uh... I wanted to finish my research into..."

  I shook it off. "Fine." I threw my hand in the air like it didn't matter. Izzy scurried away before either of us needed to say anything else, leaving me alone in the den, rubbing my temples.

  Hard to get was one thing, but Izzy was something else. I could tell she liked me. She'd even gone so far as to admit it to herself. But she refused to open up. To take that next step. She wasn't used to sharing her life with someone.

  As for me, I guess I always liked to keep a close circle of friends and family. When I'd been alive, that meant my little brother, Derek. He was gone now, or I was if you wanted to be technical about it. After losing the admiration of a little brother, it was hard to truly feel like someone was on my team. Izzy was standoffish. Kyle was rarely serious. Distracted, was what I'd call them. Izzy with her reading and grinding and Kyle with his partying and not giving a fuck.

  Oftentimes that left me all alone in my head.

  "I'm outta here," I said to no one in particular. Bandit was curled up in the corner, sleeping, but her ear twitched to show that at least she was listening. "Thanks, girl." I headed down the steps lightly, deciding for now to bottle up my frustration. There was work to do.

  0590 EverQuest

  Admittedly, I was bummed out, but I didn't want that to paralyze me. Our quest chain was open and the easiest way to advance it was to visit the questkeeper. Whether or not the plight actually mattered, I could at least feel like I was making progress.

  Sometimes I worried that progression was the problem. RPGs were about more more more. Gimme stats, loot, levels. It was easy to ignore the why of MMOs until you were actually living in one.

  The irony that I was distracting myself the same way as the others wasn't lost on me. On top of that, I took steps to actively avoid the Shorehome refugees. I lowered Dragonperch's drawbridge, the alternate entrance that spanned the river. The far side was outside of Oldtown, clear of the new drifters. The area skirted my old neighborhood, a small hill with residential housing. As I headed out, the drawbridge conveniently lifted and sealed itself. As with many traits of the tower, for now I just chalked it up to arcane sorcery.

  The lowland north of the hill was dominated by large blocks of parks named the Foot. This was the public training space for Hillside residents but had become a spiritual center of the town. Experienced adventurers and noobs alike socialized in the area that I likened to New York's Central Park. The Pleasure Gardens were the stomping grounds of the rich, but the Foot was where regular old joes played. There was a good vibe here. Watchmen chatting with players and NPCs. People engaged in team sport and practice. It actually felt like a community.

  "Hail the hero!" exclaimed an older woman I didn't know. The friends she was with waved and smiled as I passed.

  "Yes," said Dune, approaching from the archery range. "The great Protector walks among us!"

  Dune was an explorer core class, like me, but he'd drifted into the ranger specialization. His green cloak and long bow were not unlike Robin Hood's, and I figured he had similar morals: gray, but the kind you could root for.

  "Don't tell me you buy into all that hero nonsense," I said, clasping his hand in greeting.

  "Of course not," he said with a smile. "But I don't hold it against you for getting lucky."

  "Where's the gang?"

  "The Pleasure Gardens, I'd guess. I decided to stick around the Foot and grace the common people with my archery skills."

  "How humble of you."

  He flashed a self-aware grin and bowed mockingly. "You flatter me, sir. Besides, someone needs to teach these crusaders how to aim."

  I rolled my eyes. "Don't tell me you're joining up with them too."

  "Join them? You must be mad. I was under the impression they came to join me. But alas, wisdom is not a skill they hope to learn. It's easy XP for simple training, though."

  "Plus it makes you look like an expert."

  "My arrows do that for me," he laughed. "But seriously, the crusaders are handing out XP like candy."

  I examined Dune's title. [Level 6 Ranger]. "I've noticed. Lash hit 7."

  "Damn, she's making me look bad."

  "She said something about special raids in the
noob dungeons." I scoffed. "Here I was, traveling a day south to hit the Black Keep, and I find the easier XP's right next to home."

  "Yes, your little trip. You've been sorely absent as Protector."

  I frowned. Grimwart had intimated the same thing.

  Dune leaned in conspiratorially. "I don't like this, Talon. Everything feels off. The news with Shorehome. The knights, the fishermen." He looked around to make sure no one was listening. "These crusaders seem jovial enough, but I can't wait for them to move on. Know what I mean?"

  "Not really. I haven't been around." I ground my teeth, realizing that's exactly what he was worried about. But, come on, it's not like the dragonspear can fix everything. Stronghold has the city watch. I'm just a guy.

  "Look," urged Dune, "we need to talk. Not here, not now. It's too risky. Besides, I promised Caduceus I'd include them in any conversations."

  The "them" he referred to was the rest of his party, a healer and a berserker. Dune's merry men. "What kind of conversation?"

  "No worries," said the ranger, grinning at a crusader holding a bow in the wrong hand. "On my way," he called. He turned back to me, face devoid of concern. "It's good to see you back in the city, Talon. Even if it's getting a little crowded lately."

  He strode back to the training group. Dune was a good enough guy. I envied his boisterous outlook on the afterlife. The fact that he wasn't running off to join the latest fad faction was a plus. But I didn't know him well enough to figure what he had planned.

  A bit north was the river walk: a line of shops and bridges along the water on Front Street, otherwise known as Noob Alley. The wares on display may not have been the nicest in town, but things were slowly changing. And it may have been small for a street, but it was far from just an alley. It was a pretty strip of waterside storefronts. I absentmindedly approached the shops, absently minding my own business, when someone bumped into me. I spun around.

  "Avast ye!" he spat. "Watch where yer goin', swabber."