Collide Gamer

A week had passed since their little photo session. As much as they had tried to spawn more Spectres over the weekdays, they had not been able to put in the necessary time since. Between school and the desires of young love, they had been mostly preoccupied. Over the weekend, they had gone camping again and that had allowed them to kill another 2 Spectres. John was up to level 20 now and Rave to level 21.

All new points had wandered into Wisdom and there had been another useful drop to raise his casting capabilities a little higher still.

That this was the bottom of the possible Loot did make him wonder what else he was missing out on. Anyway, with the ring equipped his MP regeneration was boosted all the way to 10,8 per minute.

Thanks to that, he had been able to keep Earth Elemental Summoning and Artificial Spirit active at all times. When he had additional mana to spare, he levelled Possession. Despite initial focus on the Skill, getting his familiars more powerful felt more important. Especially with how most Possession levels did not seem to actually do anything.

At level 20, the description had changed to ‘large size’. After that, nothing new had been added. Either further effects were hidden, such as making the spell harder to dispel by enemies, or this was everything he could do for now.

Keeping Gnome active all the time sounded more advisable. The higher the Skill level got, the more efficient the mana he sent to her became. Gnome herself had no power, it appeared, she required his MP to move earth and stone around. John hoped this would change eventually or that her Stats would become high enough that she would be a worthwhile asset in combat regardless of magic.  

Aclysia, he kept active because he had no other choice. He was unable to set the Skill offline. Not that he would have if he could have. No reason to slow the advancements.

Aclysia had grown to the size of a very small person or a very big dwarf, depending on one’s point of view. Her explosion in levels had come from John feeding her every bit of loot he did not want and every bit of enchanted trash he produced to level the Skill. An exciting bit of development had been when she had eaten the Green Ectoplasm. It had given her the Phasing Attribute, allowing her to harm intangible beings like the ghosts. It had also given her a +5 bonus to Intellect. Feeding her a second Green Ectoplasm had not done anything. Apparently this did not stack.

Finally Rave had progressed like this.

Bothersome was that there was a recent trend. Whenever he used Observe to find out what was on Rave’s mind, Gaia insulted him for it. He was just using the tools that he was given, what was so wrong about that?

John was considering that question, while the bus engine hummed. They were riding the line to a game shop at the edge of town. As an avid Steam user and anti-social shut-in, John had never visited it. It was actually kind of exciting that he would visit a place of ‘his people’ – even if the reason was entirely removed from nerd-dom.

Apparently, the shop was an Abyss Auction outpost. Rave had told him the Abyss had all manner of fronts and shell companies, and now John would finally see one of them. Having a parallel society like this had not yet stopped being intriguing to him, even if much of it was a magical version of regular life.

“Any reason your dad would call us out here?” John asked, as they walked down the unclean streets of downtown.

“Dunno,” Rave responded. His girlfriend was in a pink summer dress today, her feet only in sandals. She looked gorgeous.

Everyone who saw him, in his plain black shirt and loosely fitting jeans, must have wondered how he could have hung out with a babe like that. He had no satisfying answer for them. Apparently he was funny, or something?

“I know Travolta visits the place sometimes, otherwise I barely knew it existed. We’ll see what it’s about, I guess.” She shrugged, while the shop came into view around the corner.

It was every bit the rundown building at the edge of town that John would have expected to see. A neon sign in the window, currently not switched on, spelled out the name ‘Orthodox Gaming’. John doubted even half of the tubes would be working if the owner decided to switch them on.

A piece of wood had been half-drilled, half-taped to the bottom left corner of the door. It sealed the hole someone had, very enthusiastically, kicked into the glass. Miraculously, the rest of the door was still intact. Still, it made the place uninviting. ‘Which probably is the point,’ John thought.

Inside the shop, it smelled like fresh plastic. Board and card games were orderly put into the surprisingly clean shelves. A table at the corner allowed for people to peek inside the books that were displayed around it before making the purchase. Plastic figurines were arranged in rows inside the glass vitrine that also doubled as the counter. Behind it stood a middle aged man with a half bald head. He looked like a gust of wind could carry him a thousand miles away, thin as he was and with his slightly hunched back. A brown hoodie and a pair of glasses on a large nose completed the look.

“Hello, it is rare to see new customers around here.” His voice was nasally, only adding to his ‘nerd past his prime’ appearance, “Do you want to see the cosplay section? I hear that is popular with you youngsters. W-which I like!” He hastily added the last bit. Rave raised an eyebrow as the shop owner hastily mumbled an apology.

“Ehm, no, actually.” John tried to save the man. He felt a kindred soul here, awkward and nerdy as the guy was. “Actually Regan Hol-“

“Regan Hollmey!” The shop owner interrupted him, his voice suddenly clear as day and several octaves deeper. “That must make you The Gamer, John Newman. I have heard of your ability.” The shop owner straightened his back and only then did John realize how tall the guy actually was. Not as tall as Travolta but pretty tall nonetheless. “Needless to say I am jealous, Gamer abilities would have been very interesting. You and Jane shall come with me.”

He put on his brown hood, which against all laws of physics covered the upper half of his face in near complete darkness. It all felt a bit overacted and yet it worked. When he walked towards a slim door, almost hidden between two shelves, John and Rave followed. They entered a back area filled to the brim with machines that looked like bank terminals. Passing them, they were led down a flight of stairs. At the bottom was a black door, on it a display that showed numbers from 1 to 20 and the words ‘occupied’ or ‘unoccupied’ next to them.

“Layers of Protected Spaces?” John guessed.

“Correct, Newman,” the shop owner spoke forebodingly. “We have copied the same room twenty times so that all may use these faculties in privacy. Do not worry about the time of your exiting. As you can see.” He gestured towards a framed piece of paper hanging from the wall. “We are Fateweaver certified.”

John actually recognized the name that had signed the certificate. It was Jimmie himself. A date in the corner reminded the owner how long the barrier reinforcements were good for. ‘So that’s what he does all the time,’ he thought. Not surprising, but good to learn.

The owner turned a key in the lock, trembling as if he had done some great deed. “It is done,” he declared and pushed the door open. With a deep bow, he beckoned John and Rave to enter. Once they were past the door frame, there was a pull. John gave into it and appeared next to Rave in their private copy of the room.

They were greeted by a tense air. Regan and Travolta stood on opposite sides of a massive table. Both had their arms crossed and both were flexing. To any mundane eye, Travolta seemed the more threatening figure. Arms like tree trunks, a military tank top and fitting pants, his head bald and his face serious, he seemed like the spitting image of the guy you do not mess with. Regan, however, wearing a black sailor’s cap and an 18th century military uniform, in addition to flip flops, was the stronger of the two – Barely, after Travolta’s sudden ascension in levels. Besides that, Travolta looked more dangerous, but to mess with the insane man usually was just as inadvisable.

Gruffly, Travolta growled and leaned forwards. Regan sneered. The tension grew. Neither was willing to break eye contact.

‘The hell is happening?’ John thought.