“Who the fuck are you?” An intense feminine voice asked.
“I” was as far as I got in a reply before I heard a booming laugh, followed quickly by a calm yet masculine voice. “Veyda, take it back a few notches,” the other person said, a chiding tone in his statement. It all happened so fast that my eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the new light, so it took a few seconds before I could make out the two figures standing over me.
The woman, Veyda, was wearing a black and red outfit. It was made of cloth, so it wouldn’t offer much in the way of protection, but the armor itself had a light red glow to them. Veyda herself had straight black hair, albeit short. She had a nose piercing that was made more prominent by her pinched expression. The other figure, the man, was wearing a large suit of armor, his helm under his arm. His armor glowed slightly, but where Veyda was dark, this guy was light. His shoulder length blonde hair made him look like he was taken right out of a surfing magazine, and his obnoxiously high cheekbones would have made Brad Pitt jealous. I had a sudden daydream of jumping up and punching his face to pulp, claiming that I “wanted to destroy something beautiful.”
I shook my head to cast out the intrusive thought, I put my hands out and said, “I come in peace.”
Veyda snorted. “Last time something said that to me, I woke up buried alive. So... yeah. Pass.”
“See, isn’t that better?” The man said to Veyda, smiling reassuringly. I got the feeling that they were picking up a different conversation, which left me feeling a bit like an intruder.
“Art, I swear, if you say one more wholesome thing I’m gonna start hexing birds again—HEY!” That’s when she realized I had already gotten to my feet. Say one thing about grapplers, we’ve got a lot of practice at getting off the ground. I already had my hands up, keeping my palms open.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble, I just came out here to grind. I can find another spot.” I said this as I backed out of the room, the moment my vision went black from being in the “wall,” I back peddled out, elongating my backwards stride as I went. Three or four large bounds later, the other two came out of the wall calling for me to wait.
Now that I wasn’t on the flat of my back, I would be more willing to talk. I wasn’t about to discuss anything with two unknowns who’s first disposition was to put strangers on their backs and pin them there.
Facing them both, I now had a clearer idea of their scale, though the torchlight in the hallway left their faces dim and expressionless. I was taller than the other guy, though with the added height of his grieves he was eye level to myself. The other one, Veyda, she was much shorter, perhaps five foot and a few inches? Maybe less?
“Chill, tall dark and broody. You blitzed out of the void like a boss cutscene, what was I supposed to do, offer tea?” Veyda said, despite the glow of her clothing, it didn’t illuminate her face.
“Chill? I need to chill?” I asked, incredulous. My insides roiled, burning hot to the surface. I don’t know why her stupid statement put me over, but chill was the last fucking thing on my mind. I was in a game, alone for almost a week with nothing more than PAI and some dude with the last name of “Bleakheart” as my only companions. I wanted to go home, I wanted to be in my comfy chair, or out at practice, or fuck, anything but fighting for my life in an alien contest I never signed up for.
My nostrils flared, I took a long breathe while staring daggers at the younger woman. She stared right back at me, the same flat, angry stare.
“Whoa now, hang on you two. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” He turned and mumbled something to Veyda, who promptly lost her glare. I relaxed just a bit, leaving room for “Art” to speak.
“We’re here for a quest, just trying to level up. I assume you’re here for the same thing?” He had a certain level of command to his voice, but not in a way that came across as insulting or intimidating. As the young kids would say, “dude got riz.”
“That’s why I came here, but I can go.” I said, gesturing and subconsciously taking a step away.
The other guy put his hand up, “wait, please.” I stopped.
“Veyda, if you would.”
The mid-twenties woman rolled her eyes, making her look younger than she was. Those eyes then locked onto me, where she took a breath and said, “sorry for putting you down like that.” She looked to Art who was doing a rolling gesture with his hand. She sighed and continued, “we’re here because of the arena in there. We wanted to get some grinding done, then once we got close to our level-up, we were gonna beat it. I have this noob necro-quest that needs to get done, and since Art came from this floor a few years back, we had access.”
Art’s smile was broad and reaffirming, “you see, Veyda, that was fantastic.” She smiled in a way that said she hated all praise, even when she also appreciated it.
“As my well-spoken counterpart said, this was my first floor when I arrived at the dungeon. We,” he put heavy emphasis on the word, “are exceeding apologetic for intruding.” The man began walking my way and presented his hand for a handshake. “My name is Arthur, but I go by Art.” Despite being wary, I took the offered handshake. “I’m Kevin.” I made sure Veyda heard, though it seemed like she was already indifferent.
“A pleasure to meet you, Kevin. Would it be too imposing if I’d ask you to tag along?”
Veyda’s indifference came to a swift end when she started to speak, but Art spoke over her. “He’s got more to gain, sure, but so do we. You wanted Shadowstrike at fifteen, yeah? This gets us there without taking unnecessary risks.” His head had turned to Veyda as he spoke, but it now returned to me. “This man is a blessing.” He grinned, all bravado. I figured, and said, “what the hell.”
Art and Veyda weren’t a bad sort, all things told. I ended up spending several days with them. At first, I was pretty skeptical, the two of them were leagues away from where I was, and I didn’t see any real benefit to dragging me along. Despite myself, I was very wrong. Turned out, I was an experience hog when it came to the fight. According to them, I took more than 99% of all the experience against enemies I slay, but a whomping 75% from anything I didn’t. You might think that was unfair, and you’d be right if there wasn’t such a massive level gap between us. The two of them, each, were level 24.
“We’re not insured,” Veyda said, popping a bubble with her gum that didn’t actually exist, “so it’s slow and safe for us. Gotta milk every crumb of XP before we ding 25.”
She gave me a look like I should already know this, then wagged her finger.
“Cuz the second we hit 25, it’s gg no re, bro. Forced up to the next floor, solo queue only, and guess what? If you die without coverage? Permadeath. Like, ‘delete character, uninstall life’ levels of dead. Same as you if you got clapped here, no respawn, no checkpoint, just—” she made a slicing motion across her throat, “flesh-vaulted into the shadow realm.”
She grinned like it was funny, that manic energy bubbling under the surface.
“So yeah, we’re playin’ it smart. Grind till we’re juiced, but not so hard we get booted upstairs. Got it?”
Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and stage-whispered with a smug little smirk, “But hey… you already are solo queue. Soooo… fingers crossed, champ.”
Art laughed from the back, shaking his head. I realized she was absolutely screwing with me, but damn if the note didn’t ring true.
I didn’t dignify her jab with a response. Not because I was above it—far from it—but because I couldn’t decide if she was baiting me into a retort or into trusting her. Neither felt safe. Still, there was something grounding about Art’s presence, like the guy had main character energy and everyone just sort of played along. I hated that I didn’t hate him.
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The first day comprised of grinding up to level 15 in the arena, then resetting on repeat. I would pretty much just go to town on all the weaker Risen Gladiators, meanwhile, Veyda spammed her Shadowstrike at the starred Risen Gladiators as the weaker ones didn’t get her much in the way of skill experience. Apparently, the starred opponents didn’t give her much in the way of experience either, but it was enough for them to safely gain. Art seldom stepped in, leaving most of the grinding up to Veyda and myself.
I did manage to work it out with Veyda to make use of my skills too, activating my Shielded Block, Crushing Hold and Grapple ability whenever possible. We had managed to grind for a long while, but like it often was in this place, I lost track of time. I was ever-so-grateful when Art called for a stop for the day. After exchanging some pleasantries about the easy grind, I’d gone up two levels and leveled my Shielded Block, Grapple and Crushing Hold, I readied myself to go. Art, however, had other plans.
“Won’t you be so kind as to join us at our camp. It’s just up the hall, and it’s as safe as it can get without it being an official safe zone. Also, Veyda makes a mean dumpling.”
Art gave me an assured expression while I gave Veyda a look that spoke of skepticism, and when she scowled at me, I replied, “that sounds fantastic.”
Art gave off that golden retriever vibe so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could break someone’s rib with a smile. Then, he’d probably apologize to you for it afterwards, and when it was all said and done, you’d be the one that felt like a dick. It was obnoxious, but every time I witnessed this applied to Veyda, I couldn’t help but smirk with mirth.
I was pretty skeptical after we got back to their “camp.” I didn’t really know if hiding out in a dungeon room could be considered a “camp,” but for all intents and purposes, it may as well have. They had an open flame by the window, tents for privacy, and even a special barricade for the door. There was some kind of work bench in the room, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t from either of the two travelers, but Veyda made ample use of the area to begin preparing a meal. Art, on the other hand, had set up at a smaller table where he began butchering up some flank of meat. I assumed, and sincerely hoped, it was beef.
I asked Veyda if I could do anything to help, and she mumbled something telling me I’d just be in the way. Well, what she really said was “You’ve got ‘respawn timer liability’ written all over you, my guy.” So, I promptly took myself to a corner, well out of the way, and went through my achievements.
- Arena Rat
You’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time farming XP in a controlled combat loop. You smell faintly of sweat and repetition.
Reward: +1 Level 2 Treasure Token - No XP for You!
You successfully hogged more than 95% of available XP over the course of an entire party grind. That's not stealing. That’s efficiency.
Reward: +10% XP gain from humanoid enemies (temporary buff – lasts 1 day) - Squad Goals
You joined a party and didn't immediately betray or get betrayed. Progress!
Reward: +1 Relationship Slot Unlocked (PAI now tracks party bonding for potential perks)
After listening to PAI rattle off the three simple achievements, I spent time looking through my skills and idly chatting with Art. He recommended I assign my Shielded Block ability to my hot bar and a facial expression. Why the facial expression? Apparently, if you wanted to keep yourself extra safe, you assign defensive skills to facial expressions because your face will react faster than your mind would. It made sense, and I did just what the man recommended. It wasn’t long before smells of delicious food wafted up from around me. My stomach began to explain how neglected it felt, and that it wouldn’t be happy if it went unattended much longer.
Food was served, the large dumplings came three to a bowl served over some broth. It was delicious, and the various greens that were worked into the dumplings were a pleasant addition to my overly meaty diet. Shortly after dinner, we spoke for a time, discussing things we missed from earth. They began telling me stories of the next floor and how hard it was to beat.
“So, what’s the deal with this insurance you two mentioned. Is there a co-pay? Dental?” I said this in a jovial manner, but the other two got suddenly serious.
Art set his dish down, leaning back, he spoke in a voice that was low and earnest. “Don’t. Take. It.”
Veyda, at the same time, sucked in air like I announced I was considering taking up meth full time. “Ohhh, no no no no. Do not click the shady checkbox, that’s how they get you.”
Art nodded calmly, but there was an edge to the look in his eye. “The insurance system is a contract, a literal soul-binding one. In exchange for revival, you agree to one year of indentured servitude per instance of death, and one per level attained. Worse yet, you lose half your levels and twenty percent of your stats. So, if you contracted now, you’d come back at level 4 every time you died. If you die, your indenture begins anew. That’s not even getting into the various corporations…”
Veyda cut in, “and they pick which corp. So you could end up meat bait for monsters, selling mana-lattes for low-level spellcasters or scraping lich splooge out of a high class jacuzzi.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to sift through this information. I had an odd tic that happened when I processed, I would twist my head just a touch and move it back. Almost like I was hearing noises from various directions, I would tilt and return, and the more bothered I was by the information, the more I did it. For about fifteen solid seconds, I probably more resembled the girl from The Exorcist than myself. “This sounds like the setup for a bad joke… but you two aren’t joking, are you?”
A sad smile stole onto Art’s face. “Worse than any joke I’ve ever told. Worse, it keeps people here. Most never make it off the second or third floors. They’re designed to stall you. You grind to stay safe, you get insurance to feel protected, but all it does is tether you.”
Nodding, Veyda spoke up, and her voice hitched just a touch. “Think of it like this: floor two’s the net, floor three the hook. Insurance? That’s the weight they tie to your ankles while telling you to swim.”
I took a moment to let that sink in. “What happens if I go up without it? What if I just hit level 25 and move on?”
Veyda shook her head. “You can’t. Not cleanly. Once you’re level 25, the city’s guards are authorized to detain you. They toss you into an ‘instance.’ Like a dungeon trial. Solo. No friends, no prep. You either beat it or you start over. Or, if you’re like us, you beat it or you die.” She shrugged.
Art nodded gravely. “Most don’t make it. The few that do come out… different. Haunted. Then you’re marked and hunted. It’s one of the only ways to break the insurance loop, which is why they never tell you about it.”
“So wait, if I don’t take insurance, and I get to floor three at twenty…?”
Somberly, Veyda replied, “you can party up. Use strategy. Prep like a sane person. Hit that instance just before you ding to 25, bring some peeps, and you’ve got a shot.” She leaned in with a sudden and feral grin. “Wait too long and… BOOM! One-way ticket to Spank Town. Population: You.”
Art’s soft chuckle to Veyda’s sudden change in volume did little to comfort me. Art began to explain, “her phrasing is… chaotic. But correct. The system is built to trap contenders with false security. You’ve got to keep climbing, Kevin. But do it on your terms.” The man’s intense stare made me feel like a child getting sage advice from an elder.
I took a long breath, exhaling slowly. I stared into the fire for a time. When the silence grew deep, I spoke. “Okay. No insurance. Got it. Guess dying’s the better option.” I said it, but felt cheated for it.
Veyda raised a sudden cup, and like magic a goblet appeared in my hand. “To dying with dignity!”
Art followed. “To beating the system. Together.”
I smirked. “To not cleaning lich-cum from a lich-dom.”
Art looked shocked, but Veyda laughed and it seemed to echo through my mind for the rest of the evening.