I was top whale once. McConsoleKing, highest ranked player on seven different MMOs. But here inside the game Tetra Chronicles, for the first time I broke away from that identity. Somewhere along the way I ceased to be McConsoleKing, and became just Revelator. Defender class without a single weapon, a pure sleeper build with a few skills I’ve become particularly proud of. Skills I earned by a judicious investment of time and patience, and +2 luck…
And now they threaten to take all that away from me?
I’m surprised at myself; I don’t like the idea at all. In fact, I hate it.
Those assholes at SMark corporation. If they were just going to make the game pay to win, why didn’t they do it from the start? Why did they let me get invested in the game like this if they were just going to suck all the fun and individuality out of it in the end?
Now that I’ve played Tetra Chronicles as a regular guy, just the thought of going back to the way I was disgusts me. Once the idea of an even playing field where I couldn’t get ahead by using my parents’ money terrified me. But now, the thought of advancing to a higher tiered character by virtue of that same money…
Calm down, Rev. It’s just a rumor. Doesn’t look like the company’s confirmed anything, yet. All the same, suddenly in a bad mood, I close out of the forums, and take my attention to my favorite MeTuber to get my mind off of it.
Looks like the Bruiser uploaded some good fights today. Nice…
Like this, I spend the night, crafting Iron Breastplates and slowly using up all the raw materials I bought.
[Blacksmithing skill has leveled up.]
Finally, level seven. That took forever.
Then, as five o’clock rolls around, I close up shop and shift all of my focus to my surroundings.
That eight hour mark should hit any minute now…
“Greetings.”
The voice comes from behind, and I jump. I turn to see a modest looking, fifty-something man in simple brown robes coming up the aisle, bringing a single flickering candle which he uses to light more at the front of the church. He gives the over-all impression of a very harmless soul, the last person you’d want to attack unprovoked.
“I did not expect worshipers at this hour,” he says to me, back turned. “I am Gavril Louvard, priest of Elyon. But you may call me Brother.”
Gavril sets the candle he was carrying in its place beside the others and turns to offer me a gentle smile. “You are weary, traveler. Come, receive the blessing of Elyon. You are hesitant,” he says when I do not move. “Do not be ashamed to ask for help. Elyon’s gifts are freely given. Come, my friend.”
“You have something,” I say at last, doing my best to push down the roar of guilt that started in my conscience the moment he spawned. “A piece of Myuriel’s staff.”
Gavril’s eyes widen in surprise at my words. “Why, yes.”
Then he turns to gesture to an alter at the front of the church I’d have sworn wasn’t there a minute ago. Atop it, lying on a velvet cushion, is a two foot long piece of the simple wooden staff, broken at one end.
“The staff is a holy relic, crafted from a branch of the very World Tree. Myuriel himself broke it into three and gave each piece to the priests of the churches he founded, fellow servants of Elyon.”
Wait, Myuriel gave it to them? This isn’t the story Charis told me…
“You deny that the staff was broken in conflict and stolen from Myuriel’s widow by the priest of this church?”
“Heavens, yes! My mentor was fiercely devoted to his master Myuriel. He would never do anything to harm his poor widow.”
“Still,” I say, conflicted but nevertheless determined, “I must have it back. For Myuriel’s daughter. You must give it to me.”
“I can’t understand. If Tamiel wanted the staff, all she’d have to do is ask. Why send a messenger?”
He even knows her name, further confirming my suspicions. But it doesn’t matter that Charis is impersonating the half celestial being. All that matters is that I gain her favor by completing this quest.
“My lady has her reasons for sending me in her place. Now. The staff.”
The priest gets a stubborn look. “What token do you bring me to prove you act on Lady Tamiel’s behalf?”
“I have none.”
“Then I cannot give you the staff. And I must ask you to leave.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Then,” says the unassuming priest, “I must make you leave. By the power of Elyon!” he cries, and a blast of golden light from his hand sends me flying halfway down the aisle.
[-46 HP]
A flashy display, but not enough damage to give me any concern. Meanwhile, his act of aggression has triggered my aura, and his health is dropping. He doesn’t seem to be a boss monster, so I don’t have to worry about his regeneration. I just have to stand here, take a few hits and watch his health whittle away to zero. Easy as pie.
“Elyon’s healing grace!” he cries, and his entire body is washed in a cleansing glow. I watch in disbelief as his health bar jumps back up to full.
He can do that?
Well, crap.
This battle just got hella annoying…
I don’t have a single damaging move. There is only my aura, which takes a minute to kill any opponent, whether they be a level 1 shroomlet or a level 20 priest of Elyon. But if my opponent can heal himself—then there’s no way I can kill him!
Unless—if I can drain his MP by forcing him to use more attack spells, then I may be able to stop him from healing. But the only way to do that is to provoke as many attacks as possible. Aggro, don’t fail me now!!
I run right up in the priest’s face and he blasts me with a powerful holy spell. I try to absorb some of the damage with my shield but it phases right through it and hits me in the chest.
[-80 HP]
I forgot my shield doesn’t block magical damage. I should probably be dodging these, then. Unless I want to get my ass handed to me by Father Brown, here!
Provoking and dodging, right. I’ve got this!
Not wanting to give him a second to heal, I run up in his face once more and he seems incensed at my audacity.
“Righteous Lance!”
He thrusts a light lance at my belly and this one I’m able to block with my shield. Physical damage, that’s good. But beneath his HP gage, I see his MP barely went down with that spell. Not good. Let’s force him to use a different one.
I run to his mid-range, dodging left and right as he throws multiple fiery bursts.
“Spirit fire! Attack!!”
Now this is more like it. These are costing twice as much mana as the lance. Though still not enough to make much of a difference, at the speed his mana regenerates.
That’s when I realize it.
This fight’s going to last twenty minutes, isn’t it?
My prediction proves correct; the minutes tick by and our dance carries on. Little by little, Gavril’s draining his mana faster than it can regenerate with attack and healing spells. Meanwhile I’m draining his health steadily while continuing to provoke his most expensive attacks, slowly but surely wearing him down. It takes incredible patience and concentration, but if I can just keep this up for maybe three more minutes, then I should be able to—
[Party member has sent you a message.]
Sherbie: ggof
No! Not now, Sherbie!
Sherbie: good
Sherbie: good mornsing
Sherbie: (′?? ω ??`)
Argh!! It keeps popping up in the middle of my screen, blocking my view. I have no choice but to dismiss the messages manually.
Exit window! Exit!
Of course as soon as I get it minimized, it pops up again.
Sherbie: i slept great
Sherbie: Where u at
Shoot! Ok, try and type a quick message while somersaulting away from fireballs.
Revelator: busy
Sherbie: ok i wait
Sherbie: ........
Alright. The pop-ups are minimized, I can give my full attention to the battle once more. I’ve almost got him now. With just a sliver of mana remaining, Gavril’s got one, maybe two healing spells left in him, max.
“Come on, holy man! Hit me with your best shot,” I taunt him as I duck behind one of the smoldering pews, narrowly avoiding being scalped by a spirit fireball. “Your Elyon’s weak! Weak sauce!”
“Insolence!” he roars, and as he prays in some heavenly tongue, I get the impression I’m in for the Hail Mary shot.
“Light of JUDGMENT!!”
Sherbie: im hubgry
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Holy light blasts all around me, almost impossible to dodge. Of course it would help if the damn pop-up wasn’t floating right in the middle of my line of vision!!
[-112 HP]
[-144 HP]
[-131 HP]
[-150 HP]
Sherbie: want to get crepes
“I’M GONNA F*CKING KILL HIM!!”
Exit the screen, exit!
“Light of JUDGMENT!!”
Again?!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
I do a slightly better job of dodging this time, though I still take a few hits.
[-139 HP]
[-105 HP]
Sherbie: heyy
Sherbie: u ok?
Sherbie: ur health keeps going down
Sherbie: (;;;*_*)
The blasts from Gavril’s spell are still going off, but he’s totally out of mana now. His health is already down to 40%, and he has no way of healing.
Hang in there, Rev! Twenty...more...seconds!
Sherbie: is that y u cant talk? Ur in a battle? Ur under attack??
Sherbie: im coming to save u!!!
No!
BOOM! BOOM!
[-153 HP]
[-156 HP]
Oof!!
Can’t look away! After too many hits like that, not even my HP is a big enough cushion. I won’t survive. But if Sherbie catches me killing a priest unprovoked—that guy will never forgive me!
Damn it!
Sherbie: hang in thre buddy!!!
And—time!
The final twenty seconds have elapsed, and my aura has at last done its work. Gavril the priest collapses to his knees, rolling his eyes towards heaven.
“Elyon, to Thee, I commit my spirit...”
[Alliance shifted: -15 points towards Hell]
The light that filled the church amidst our battle seems to die with the holy man, and darkness descends.
It’s eerie. After all the noise and chaos of battle, the silence is overwhelming. Then I get another pop-up message.
Sherbie: where r u?? it says ur at the church.but i think i took a wrong turn??
Revelator: I’m not at the church. You’re reading the map wrong.
Sherbie: im so confused!!
Revelator: I’m alright, now. Just got caught by some thugs. Took care of them. Wait for me at the inn. I’ll be there in a minute.
Sherbie: ok but—
I find the button that silences the chat—way too small at the bottom of the screen. Of course I couldn’t see it in the middle of my battle.
Sorry, Sherbie. There’s something I’ve got to take care of.
