Paragon of Weaponmasters

Earl says: Sure. Where do you want to meet?

Moosetamer says: Somewhere private, but not a private room. How about Cumbergoine?

I sigh. Might as well face that place, rip the bandaid off while I'm already emotional about other things.

Earl says: Sure.

I use the portal crossroads to reach the elf city, and find Moosetamer in a quaint cafe.

"Anything to eat?" She asks as I sit, handing me a menu.

"I actually just ate but I'll get a coffee." I tell her. I haven't had a coffee in how long? Months, maybe. I order a Mocha frappé, and it appears before me with a pair of straws sticking out of it.

I chuckle, shaking my head.

"Do you want to share?" I ask.

"I'll try it." she says, leaning over to take a sip.

I lean down at the same time, looking into her eyes as our noses touch.

Her nose is pitch black, so I can't tell if she's blushing, but if i had to guess, she is.

She leans back and clears her throat.

"I needed to talk to you about us." she says, emphasizing 'us' like this could be the beginning or the end.

"Okay." I say, my throat suddenly dry even with blended ice just passing through it. I take another drink for relief.

"I know some people have in-game-exclusive relationships where they don't know anything about each other, and I respect your decision if that's what you want, but that's not what I want. So I'd like to just get it over with, if that's okay." she fidgets while speaking, clearly tremendously nervous.

I sigh.

"Melody, I'm not lying to you when I say I can't tell you. I would get in a lot of trouble if I did, what I already told you got me in enough trouble as it is." I say.

I can tell remembering her name earned me enough points to keep her from leaving immediately, she shifts in her seat as if she's considering it.

"I looked into N.D.A.s and protective custody and things like that. What you've said doesn't make any sense, Luke. N.D.A.s don't make you hide your identity, the only reason one could is if you were the thing that couldn't be discussed, like you're an experimental being or something crazy like that. And if you were assuming a new identity to protect yourself and others, you should have a full name and story to give to better hide the fact that none of it is real. Your reasons for keeping yourself a secret don't make any sense!" she rambles.

Do I take the risk and tell her everything?

Paragon Earl says: Don't say anything.

She arches an eyebrow.

Paragon Moosetamer says: ok.

Paragon Earl says: I'm trapped in this game. My name is Luke Walton, and I died nine years ago.

She sighs.

Paragon Earl says: Please, just listen. I died and came back in this game. I've been trapped in here for months. There are others like me, other people stuffed into N.P.C. bodies.

She shakes her head, clearly not buying any of this.

Paragon Earl says: Just ask Peter and Helga. They know everything.

MESSAGE COULD NOT BE SENT

What?

The world around me has gone completely black. Moose and the cafe are gone.

Tell me, Luke. Do you think I'm fucking stupid?

The world around me asks the question. What is this?

The monitor builds itself from ones and zeros in front of me. The spotlight does not ignite, instead a dull red glow subtly illuminates their face. Seeing it for the first time, it's a lot more detailed than I expected. I suppose I expected nothing except a bing lens, but there's lips and a nose under the light.

"You told her too much." The Monitor says.

"You don't know what I told her." I respond.

"I don't need to. You know, my mind works by taking truly mind-boggling amounts of data, finding the averages, and using that as a foundation. When two people are talking about something, then suddenly they stop speaking verbally, obviously they're talking about it another way. In a billion simulations of your chat, all but one show you went into Paragon chat." it monologues.

"What's the other one show?" I ask, curious.

"That I show up and tear you in half vertically. There's always one possibility that's… unpredictable." It sneers.

"So what now? You're sending me to Purgatory? That's it, all of that work was for nothing?" I ask, terrified of the answer.

It just smiles, then blows away as particles on a nonexistent breeze.

"Fuck." I say, looking around. There's absolutely nothing here. I'm standing on something solid, but visually it just blends into everything. There's no floor, walls, or ceiling. Only darkness.

The only sound is my own breathing.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I can feel the mania creeping in already. What do I have to focus on?

Are you guys here?

We're here, brother. Thozur tells me.

Do you understand what's going on?

The machine god has imprisoned us in the space between. Apaki tells me.

The space between?

Yes… not quite here, not quite there. All things come from here. Apaki adds.

I use Clone to give them all bodies. It feels right, now that I have the option, even temporarily.

Earthshatter rubs her arms as if she's cold. I don't feel a thing.

"So how do we get out?" I wonder.

"We don't." Apaki answers. "Everything comes from here, but not by choice. The world is made, and a force beyond even the gods decide what enters our reality, and what stays here, forever."

"A force beyond the gods? The Monitor?" I ask

"Perhaps. Even the Machine God must have come from somewhere." Apaki says.

I nod. The creators of the game made it, and it made the world. The expiration for Clone comes and goes, but they do not dissipate.

"Can you all see if there's an end to this place? Any landmarks? Anything at all, really." I request.

They all depart in a different direction, except for Apaki.

"There isn't." he says before leaving.

They can all fly, so I needn't bother looking myself. It seems like I could walk for hours and never run into anything. Instead, I retrieve the journal and start asking questions.

What is Purgatory?

★

Day 39,067

Magic theory states that all things have a source. A plane where it exists. For example, fire magic comes from the fire plane, where there is only flame. No trees, or rocks, or living things. Just fire.

Some magics are sourced from within ourselves, but that theory is hotly debated. Are we planes unto ourselves?

The real question is, where do the planes come from? If all things have a source, what is the source of the source?

After… one hundred years, I have discovered the answer: Purgatory.

A plane of non-existence, where everything comes into being. A mountain springs into existence, unaffected by erosion or gravity until it is ejected from Purgatory into reality.

There are two additional things I have discovered about this strange staging ground of matter; there is, was, and always will be a teapot. From that teapot flows the energy source for the realm, Void.

Void is unlike any other kind of magic I have encountered. Most spells create, alter, or control something. Even the most destructive spells only change the state of matter, or send it somewhere else. Void magic is both, and neither. The matter affected by void magic is reduced to base components, then sent to Purgatory.

Unlike the ash left behind from a fire spell, there is no memory of what once was. No magic I'm aware of can return it back to what it was. And no magic can bring it back from Purgatory.

★

"Well that's concerning." I say, scratching my chin. He must have found a way out, right?

★

Day 60,092

Void magic is fascinating. It seems any object that is sufficiently rooted to reality is unaffected by it. Naturally, my first test subject was my prison. The walls and door did not change when subjected to void. My orc brethren were not so fortunate.

Conjuring a sphere, I can remove entire men, or surgically cut away single atoms. To the naked eye, they simply vanish. With my third eye, I can watch as their base parts move from this realm into Purgatory.

Bringing those parts back is another matter entirely, pun intended.

★

"Oh, so he's got jokes, but not answers. Great." I almost throw the journal in frustration. "How. do. I. get. Out. of. Here?"

★

Day 102,099

I've mastered every school of magic, from fire to water, earth and air, holy, unholy, prophecy… yet void still eludes me. It is so divorced from conventional magic, that the mind struggles to even comprehend its base elements. It is antithetical to reality.

A mind made of matter cannot comprehend utter absence. Even in an empty cup, there is air. In the void there is truly nothing.

To master the void, perhaps I need a new perspective.

★

This is starting to make me nervous. It's starting to sound like a horror story.

★

yah'or'nanah

Soth ah mg r'luh.

Soth ah mg lw'nafh.

H' ah mg nilgh'ri cahf ah.

ah nafl ph'nglui mgr'luh soth, llll soth ahor llll mgr'luh ymg'

★

I close the journal and put it away. Like running up stairs when you turn the light off, I feel like something is right behind me, if i don't run… it will get me.

"Nothing." says Apaki, from behind me.

I scream. It is very, very high pitched. Apaki laughs at me.

"So now what?" I ask.

"Nothing." he says, sitting on the ground. I join him, having nothing better to do.

The others arrive shortly after, the same grim news on their translucent lips.

"How about we take turns asking the magic journal questions?" I offer.

"What does it know?" Thozur asks.

"Pretty much everything except how to get out of here." I respond.

"What happened to the gods?" Apaki asks.

"You know what happened, traitor." Jellyfish says. In english.

"Is there something going on here I don't know about?" I ask.

"Well, you did, didn't you hon?" Earthshatter points out to Apaki.

"Ask the journal." He growls.

"What happened to the gods?" I capitulate.

★

Day 1,000,000,000

All magic leaves behind residue, a signature showing both the type of magic, and who cast it.

The Machine God's signature is on everything outside. The plants, the animals, even the human gods. It did something to them, their bodies reek of transmutation. More than just changing their physical forms, it also locked away most of their psyche behind barriers. They all have keys, but the shape of them eludes even me.

Much like how Psychic Chronomancy works. When I travel back to a previous version of myself, the current occupant is locked away. Two minds cannot exist simultaneously, they are dissolved and rejoin the prime.

My prime. Me. Prime me.

Perhaps I have rewound the clock too many times recently.

★

"The Monitor did it." I tell them. "It turned you into weapons. The journal didn't mention why."

"Truly?" Thozur asks. "But that would mean…"

We all turn our attention to Apaki, who appears ready to burst. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it. He just shakes his head instead.

"Fools, all of you." he finally speaks.

"Apaki, I…" Thozur begins

"No!" Apaki screams at him. "Millenia hiding from you! From all of you!" he points aggressively at the other gods. "You got it into your heads that I did it, and you hunted me!"

"You were the only one spared, what else were we to think?" Thozur asks.

"Spare? What does that mean?" I interject.

They all stop and stare at me.

"Explain what you meant by that." My request comes out as a demand, almost a compulsion.

"Apaki has never been a weapon. He's been fooling you and The Machine God." Thozur finally answers.