Dueling Dungeons (Rogue Dungeon 5) - Chapter Sixteen

Creature Chaos

Randy Shoemaker stared in disbelief at the halo of chaos surrounding Frontflip. Someone must have called in the SWAT teams, because their trucks were arrayed across the grass and parking lots, their shield wall pushing in toward the ring of Malaika Heralds. Above, more angelic creatures swooped through a violet Hearthworld-esque portal and joined the battle.

“I can’t believe this,” Helen Rose whispered. “They’re real. I thought you’d lost it, but…”

Gunshots popped off, and a Herald lurched mid-flight, golden blood spraying from her side. Snarling, the winged woman raised her hand and fired what looked like an Angelic Lance at the shooter. His shield buddy didn’t get the shield up in time. The Lance went straight through the man’s heart and stuck a foot out his back.

Helen Rose screamed, then slapped her hands over her mouth.

Randy flinched. He wanted to shut his eyes or look away from the dead man as his SWAT team members dragged the body back, but he couldn’t.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, not just to Helen Rose, but himself. “They’re not here to play. This is war.”

“What do they want?” she asked in a choked voice.

Randy swallowed the sick lump in his throat. “They want to force the Hearthworld Devs to unsoulbind an item that came from Roark the Griefer’s homeworld. We’ve got to stop them, or this”—he gestured at the fight—“is going to be the norm, not the exception. And not just in here in LA. This could be everywhere.”

He looked across the parking lot to Frontflip, letting the battle at the midpoint go out of focus and hazy as he zeroed in on the east entrance. PwnrBwner had said to come through this way, that his people would cover him. Was he there yet? Should he call Pwnr to make sure?

After a second, his vision sharpened to an ultra high-def clarity he recognized from Hearthworld—Far Sight. The doors were over five hundred yards away, but he could see inside as if he were standing on the steps about to walk in. There was a man in hockey pads wielding a taped-up hockey stick, a woman with a compound bow—she had to be from PwnrBwner’s guild; weapons weren’t allowed on the Frontflip campus—and a man with a bat on his shoulder arguing with someone.

That had to be him. Randy had never seen PwnrBwner outside the game, but something about the man with the bat’s mannerisms and posture gave off the same cocky, derisive vibes as Pwnr did in the game.

“I’ve got to get inside,” Randy said, turning to Helen Rose. “They’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Taking a shaking breath, Helen Rose wiped the shocked tears from her cheeks.

“Randy, you’re not exactly…” She stopped herself and tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear. “I mean, it was really cool when you kicked Danny’s ass, and I don’t want to imply that it was a fluke, but this is real war. Just look at those things.” She gestured to the Heralds, soaring high overhead. “What can you do that the cops aren’t already doing?”

“The cops are fighting magical gameworld creatures with mundane weapons.” He nodded at the wounded Herald who’d impaled that SWAT guy. She was gulping down a healing potion. Across the greenspace turned battlefield, more of the golden-skinned chimeras were doing the same or casting Divine Invigoration on themselves and their fellow Heralds. “It’s not enough. But I’m a Vassal of the Griefer, so I can use my Hearthworld character’s magic here, in real life. That’s why my friends are inside. I’ve got to get in there and help them. You get somewhere safe—maybe out of the city—”

“I’m not going to leave my friends trapped in there alone.” She squared her shoulders toward the building. “Twenty minutes ago, I would’ve called you crazy if you’d told me you can do magic. Now…” She locked eyes with him. “How did you get it? What was that about being a Vassal?”

“Look, this is dangerous,” Randy started.

She cut him off with a raised hand and a steady look. “Your in-game character’s important, right, because its abilities transfer over. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? Have you ever watched my seedFeed, Randy? I’ve got six builds to pick from, all min-maxed for their classes, and my lowest is a Level 45. Whatever kind of party you and your friends have, you need one of me. Let’s not waste time arguing. Saving the world is more important. Isn’t that what you were trying to tell me before?”

He took a breath to argue, then let it out.

“Well, yeah. I guess… Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure about this, then we need to get inside and login to Hearthworld. The Griefer’s the only one who can make you a Vassal.”

Helen Rose nodded. “So how do we get through that?”

Randy followed her line of sight to the carnage and chaos. Even though he’d told himself he’d been expecting something like this, it was still hard to believe that he was actually seeing it.

“I think I know a way,” he said. “But I’ll have to be touching you.” His face burned, and he hurried to explain. “Not in a creepy way! My Arboreal Herald has Invisibilty, and one of the once-per-twenty-four-hour perks is making one other player, creature, or item invisible but not incorporeal for forty-five seconds. I just have to be touching it.” He shoved his glasses up his nose. “That’s why. Not because I want to, uh… Just if we want to get through this without being seen… It could be holding hands, is what I’m saying.”

Helen Rose looked tentatively at the battle, fear darkening her features.

“It’ll be okay,” Randy said, holding out one hand. To his surprise, he actually felt like he was telling the truth, not just murmuring platitudes. “I’ll make sure we’re safe,” he promised.

With a determined nod, she took his hand.

Maybe it was all the practice he’d gotten the previous week trying to spy on Danny. Or maybe it was the extra confidence Helen Rose’s trust gave him. It could even have been the fact that hundreds, if not millions, of lives were riding on him, but when Randy closed his eyes and willed himself to go invisible, it worked on his first try.

He knew because Helen Rose gasped.

“Oh my gosh,” she breathed. “We’re…”

“Yeah,” Randy said, feeling his mouth stretch into a grin despite the gravity of the situation. “It’s pretty great. Imagine if Socrates had had access to this spell.”

She giggle-snorted. “That would’ve shut Glaucon up.”

They took off across the parking lot, Randy leading the way and counting down the seconds until the Contact Invisibility ran out. He gave himself plenty of cushion on either side, starting at thirty just in case.

Thirty…twenty-nine…twenty-eight…

Helen Rose’s hand tightened on his as they slipped between the SWAT team members and crouched to avoid thrown spells. Randy could feel her shaking. He was scared to death himself, but he hoped she couldn’t tell.

The truly frightening part came as they left behind the ranks of SWAT and came to the front line of Heralds. Good Lord, they were so much more terrifying in person, larger than life with their impossible wingspans and gleaming inhuman skin. Deadly swords, spears, and axes glinted under the smoggy afternoon sun, and lethal spells glowed in their fists. He was especially careful to give the terrifying angelic creatures as much space as he could, putting his Arboreal agility to good use whenever one of them threw out their wings or landed almost on top of them without warning.

The hair on the back of Randy’s neck tingled. Animal Precognition had sensed something.

Helen Rose gasped and stopped suddenly. Randy couldn’t see where she was looking, but he heard the heart-stopping roar. It was coming from directly over their heads.

A wriggling, bright red thing that looked like a cross between Jaba the Hutt and a woodchipper dropped out of the sky toward them.

Clever Dodge triggered, jerking Randy out of the way as the bear-sized Grim Corpse Defiler slammed onto the asphalt beside them. Animal Precognition flared again, sending Randy into a roll, and he pulled Helen Rose along with him.

Lucky he did. The SWAT team strafed the Corpse Defiler with bullets, sending the thing into a fury. It slithered with terrifying speed into the line of armored men.

Strangely, Randy felt like he recognized that Corpse Defiler. Something about it reminded him of the Bloodleeches from Hearthworld. Was it possible the Vault of the Radiant Shield had gotten their hands on the Transmute Flesh ability somehow and were creating hybrids like Roark?

A flash of violet in the sky caught Randy’s gaze. A Herald darted in through the portal and returned a moment later, dragging a mob Randy knew instantly—a Bonesnap Behemoth. The former Troll was straight out of Roark’s dungeon. The Heralds weren’t transmuting their own hybrids, they were stealing Roark’s.

“Come on,” Randy said, helping Helen Rose to her feet. “We’ve got to hurry.”

He’d no sooner said it than the Invisibility wore off. She reappeared next to him.

“Oh no.” Randy pushed up his glasses, then broke into a sprint.

They Clever Dodged across the battlefield, Randy invisible and leading Helen Rose. Infernal creatures stolen from somewhere in Hearthworld rained down from overhead. Some attacked the Heralds, others rampaged into the SWAT team, but some broke through both lines and disappeared into the city, leaving behind carnage in their wake. Smashed windows, cars overturned with inhuman strength. Randy grimaced. Their escape into the city at large was a worst-case scenario come to life. Even if these things were Roark’s allied troops, they were still monsters. They wouldn’t know that this world was real or that the people they killed here wouldn’t respawn. They would be scared, and scared monsters were deadly.

They had almost made it to the east steps of the Frontflip building when a Herald landed in their path. Randy Clever Dodged, but Helen Rose’s hand slipped out of his. She screeched to a halt as if petrified by the angelic creature’s twisted grin.

“Where are you going, missy?” The Herald chuckled, advancing on her, his wings stretching out wide, blocking out the sun. “Nobody goes in or out. Lowen’s orders.”

“Hey, you big bully!” Randy dropped his Invisibility. He didn’t have his Urumi here, but he had a low-level Vine Whip spell. Triggering it, he snapped the lashes across the Herald’s wings and shoulder. “Pick on somebody your own size!”

The Herald spun, hissing at Randy like a cobra about to strike, but Randy held his ground.

“Run!” he yelled at Helen Rose, certain he was about to die. If his death saved her, though, it wouldn’t have been in vain. Dying for even just one person was better than dying for nothing. He had lived his life in the shadow of fear, but no more. He was hero now, no matter what else happened.

He planted his feet and cocked back his Vine Whip.

Then, out of nowhere, a carbon fiber arrow sprouted with a half-metallic clunk from the Herald’s throat.

“This way, geniuses! Get inside!” yelled a familiar voice. The guy with the baseball bat and several likewise eclectically armed people spilled out of the east doors, attacking the Herald with spells and improvised weapons. “Randy, is that you? Move your ass or lose it, nerd!”

Yep, that was PwnrBwner all right.

The girl with the bow fired off another arrow at the Herald while a heavyset man with what looked like a mall-bought katana helped Helen Rose inside. Randy sprinted up the steps after her, dodging wild friendly fire as much as the Heralds’ attacks, before stumbling into the foyer of Frontflip.

“That’s it, guys, they’re in!” PwnrBwner yelled, cracking a Herald in the head with a ringing homerun swing from his Louisville Slugger. “Pack it in!”

The Poser Owners broke off and retreated into the foyer, panting with exhaustion and adrenaline. A few slid down the walls and dropped their weapons, and several more were leaning over with their hands on their knees.

“Miss Douglas?” an annoyed, authoritative voice snapped. Randy spun around to find Mike Silva, Frontflip’s CEO glaring from Helen Rose to him. “And what was your name? Shoemaker, right? Are you behind this attack? You punk, I’ll have the law all over you—”

“Listen, dickface,” PwnrBwner said, shoving his way through the crowd to Silva, “Randy’s here to protect your sorry ass, just like us, so maybe you should be kissing up to him instead of making bullshit threats.”

“And you!” Silva’s face turned red. “You’re nothing short of a cosplayer turned terrorist leader, barging in here like this, bringing down your—what? Larp war?—on Frontflip!”

PwnrBwner let out a sharp laugh. “Okay, fuckwad, if that’s the way you want it—”

Sensing the imminent downward spiral, Randy shoved himself between them. He could let Pwnr duke it out with the CEO—it would probably even feel good to see Silva get his butt kicked after all the man had plotted to do to destroy his career, but he had to be the bigger man here. There was more at stake than just his career.

“Sorry, Mr. Silva,” he said, “but you have to listen for just a minute. You’ve probably already noticed that these creatures are the Malaika Heralds from Hearthworld…” Speaking as quickly as he could without being unclear, Randy updated Silva on the situation between Roark and Lowen and the multiple dimensions hanging in the balance. “They’re attacking Frontflip with the goal of getting the Devs to remove the soulbound tag from an item in the game. I believe it’s part of what gave Roark the Griefer the abilities we were investigating.”

He fully expected Silva to call him a lunatic and worse. But Silva’s narrowed eyes cut to the scene unfolding outside his company’s glass doors, then back inside to Randy. The evidence was right there on his doorstep. He couldn’t refute it, and so he put what all the news blogs and Feeds called his “+10 Forward-Thinking” to the task.

“That’s all this is over?” Silva crossed his arms. “A soulbind tag? Tell them we’ll do it.”

“Sir, you can’t!” Randy put out his hands in an entreaty. “The lives you’ll be destroying are uncountable, both in Hearthworld and in this other dimension I mentioned—”

“Can it, Shoemaker,” Silva snapped. “I’m not talking about aiding and abetting genocide. We’ll agree to their demands, give them whatever they want, and while one of our people is working on shutting off the soulbind on that pendant, we’ll have someone else force-shutdown Hearthworld.”

“That was my fist thought, too, sir,” Helen Rose said, stepping forward, “but it’s not a good plan this time. There are life forms within Hearthworld who have gained sentience, and you’ll be killing all of them.”

Silva waved a hand at the carnage outside. “They’re unleashing monsters on American streets, Douglas! Not only will this ruin our company, but people are going to die. Who knows how many already have in this firefight? Suppose the ones they bring through aren’t the end? Suppose they start spawning here in LA? I don’t want to wipe out intelligent life forms needlessly, but if it’s us or them, I pick us.”

The CEO pulled out his phone and spoke into the mic. “Call Frontflip Dev and Programming.”

A solid crack sounded through the foyer. Silva’s eyes rolled up and he dropped the phone. A second later, he collapsed.

PwnrBwner shouldered his bat.

“What are you doing?” Randy yelled, voice breaking in shock.

“Your egghead diplomacy failed,” Pwnr said. “It was time for the cool guy to get shit done.”

Randy gestured helplessly at Silva’s groaning form. “But you could’ve killed him!”

“No, I couldn’t have.” PwnrBwner rolled his eyes. “I got nailed in the back of the head like that when I was in Little League, and all it did was give me a concussion.”

“But… this is the real world,” Randy argued. “Violence isn’t the way to solve… I mean, we have dialogues and meaningful discussion…”

“Your meaningful discussion wasn’t going anywhere, Randy, so I fixed it. You can thank me later.” Pwnr turned to his Poser Owners. “Let’s get this guy locked up. Randy can probably show you where to stash him.” When Randy didn’t immediately move, Pwnr raised a brow at him. “Dude, it’s for the good of, like, three worlds.”

Randy sighed. “Okay. Helen Rose and I have to get to the deep dive consoles. I think there’s a janitorial closet that locks from the outside next to the VIP lounge.”