Listening to Soulblight’s story enthralled Dymir. He was in the presence of a user nearly four times his age and lived so much more both here and on This Earth. There were so many questions he wanted to ask as he recounted his tale, but they weren’t here for that. It didn’t matter. Legacy players were the modern equivalent of a warrior culture’s dead, risen to continue the fight until the last light burnt out. He could tell Phage had a hard time holding her tongue, that time was of the essence and she eyed the miners around them, quite obviously wanting them gone.

“Clearly, we have private matters to discuss,” Soulblight noted her anxiety and addressed his workers at once, “Ok, everyone, take the rest of the day off.” Patiently, he waited for them to power down all the equipment, and with a snap of his fingers, every one of their heads exploded, leaving their bodies to dissolve as they spawned back into town. The mine howled amidst nothing else in this desolate spot of this desolate space. His demeanour hardened and he spoke, looking directly into Phage’s eyes, “You look at me like you know me, but I don’t know you and we’re going to fix that. Right now.”

It took Dymir a moment to realize he had seized her with his magic and that she could move nothing but her mouth. Unable to even blink, she spoke, “I know what happened to you at the top of the Spire. Of the twelve people in our party, nine were standard players, you and another were Legacy users, and then there was me. When the door opened to the final room, the rest of the party left to regroup and you were supposed to wait, but you didn’t. But I didn’t follow the herd either – I never left, and I followed you – I saw what was on the other side. When I was about to cross, something threw me back.”

Reya. The wife Soulblight shared a bed with to this day. Black, spiraling barbes on the shoulders and elbows grew over the cute sun dress she was wearing just on the other side of the door. She crossed the veil in the finest armour she ever crafted which nearly doubled her size. From one palm grew a glaive that stood her height plus a half, made of netherbeast bone and imbued with glowing red eyes that looked out in all directions so hatefully. Around her other forearm appeared a shield so large she could lift only slightly to move and duck slightly to disappear completely behind it. On its surface was a face whose eyes and mouth were the same types of vortex most recently seen in the maw of Trident’s perma-death attack. After being skewered, Phage’s soul was fed to the shield as she slid down the spear’s beating shaft. Her body had been deleted when the rest of the party returned, and although the party made an attempt regardless, they were driven off, confused and angry.

The boss became famously known as the Blackest Knight, with her likeness on t-shirts and rendered in figurines even outside the Hub. The Spire’s trials were tackled maybe once a month by a party with the right preparations and luck. When anyone faced the Blackest Knight, the gravity of the battle was emphasized with a heavy penalty for losing. One of the fallen was chosen at random and their soul was fed into the shield. For beating her, which happened at most once a season, a party was ushered to a room full of chests behind a door that once, and only once, led somewhere else. “Holy shit….” Soulblight was staggered, “She’s been the Blackest Knight this whole time?”

“Yes.” Phage called up an image over her palm for them to see. It was of an older man, tall, with a cold expression that was all too familiar. A mage whose stats in the flame school of pyromancy were higher than any Dymir had seen anywhere, and physically, it was easy to see they shared many, many traits, “The NPC I was using, my first like this, is the one your wife perma-deathed. Phage, canonically, is his granddaughter.” Sol recognized his old friend now for what he was… and is, “I had to wait until she was old enough to be moved onto the adult server. I came as quickly as I could.”

“My old friend,” He shook her hand and gave her a rough hug, “I remember you now, all of it. Whatever was on the other side of that door it hit me hard. Besides Reya, what else did you see?”

“The view was obscured by the veil between here and there, but I can tell you for certain there was something in there that doesn’t belong here, not the Hub, not this Earth, not anywhere.” Dymir and Sol looked on, pondering the depths of what she could know, let alone how, “I’m sure your wife thought I was a bot blindly following you into battle, so she thinks her identity is safe. I think what’s happening to the Hub came from inside that room and she knows exactly what’s in there. I want to use that advantage to see what she knows without seeing what she knows.”

“So why not just go see her?” He asked, “Why bring me into this?”

“Because you’re sabotaging a plan she’s heavily staked in.” Phage replied, “You’re already in this, just deeper than you thought. You’d make a powerful ally, and frankly, you deserve to know.” She shrugged, adding, “Plus, I sunk a lot of hours into that character and she casually fucking destroyed it, so yeah, there’s a little spite in there.” While he sat to gather himself, Dymir followed Phage to give Sol time to digest the revelation. She looked at him, knowing there was pressure building inside her recruit, so she let it build until he chose how to say what he was going to.

“It’s….” Dymir shrugged and shook his head in disbelief, “It’s just a fucking game!”

“Keep that attitude.” She nodded, “Have your fun.”

“Can I, really though? The mobs and bots are planning a revolution, we just told a dead guy his dead wife is the hardest boss in all the Realm,” She crossed her arms while she waited for the rest, “Oh, and let’s not forget you, who is somehow tapped into some NPC family’s digital gene pool to log in, and I bet this isn’t even a hundredth of the dirty shit going on in here I only found out about just today!!”

“So, you’re still having your fun?” A grin crossed his face after he considered it and she mirrored the expression, “Welcome to the next layer, Dymir. You’re on a short list of users who’ve gotten a glimpse of what the Hub is really is… or is becoming.”

“It’s going to change, no matter what.” Dymir realized out loud, “A least I’m ahead of the curve and can maybe do something about it.” He looked to Phage, “Speaking of which, what’s next?”

“This is what’s next.” Sol’s voice turned them to where he stood near them and he tossed them each a key. The code engraved on the faces was of a server with an address in the Ghorr mountain range, “This will take you to my instance of that area. In the back, there’s a tree shading the yard.” He gave Dymir a high-leveled disenchantment scroll his intelligence score barely passed the check on, “I put an All-seeing Eye about halfway up the branches. Use this to find it.” He gestured to the mine around them, “There’s some things I have to do here before I catch up with you, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

“How do we get out of here?” Dymir asked, surprised he hadn’t wondered yet,

“When we log back in, we’ll be back in the Hub proper.” Phage replied, “On that note, we should rest. It’s been a long day and there’s some things I need to do on the outside.” When they nodded, her eyes went blank and the NPC Phage was back in control, “Ohhhhhhh, where am I this time??” She cried timidly, a moment before Sol respawned her back home by making her head explode.

“Don’t worry about me.” He told Dymir as they both shook grey matter off of their robes, “I have my way out covered.”

Dymir shook his hand, “I’m a big fan, I just didn’t want her to know.”

“It’s best to keep as much as you can to yourself when it comes to her kind.”

“It’s been an honor.” As the Hub shimmered, Vernon peeled himself off of a sweat-stained mattress, undoubtedly sure Dymir’s head had met the same fate as Phage’s. It was eight in the morning. An adventure that started eleven hours earlier had wrapped for the night. This was what he loved about the Hub: quests were not just developer-born, they were dynamic and personal.

There was so much to do. First, the washroom. When Vernon leaned into the connections for his arm and leg, he knew there was something wrong with them the moment they made contact. Only he ever knew the fright that came with looking at one’s limbs and seeing a different set. These were black, and shimmered, and as their software integrated into the implant in his brain that controlled them, he understood. A thought made the texture indistinguishable from the set he was born with. It registered pleasure and pain better than any model he’d ever used. These things were high end, higher so than anything on the market.

Vernon went for a jog to clear his head and to grab something for breakfast. Taking care of his body was important and he knew he’d never get a good sleep if he didn’t burn off the lag. He called his family and joined them through video for breakfast. They were doing well, as usual, so after a few laughs and a meal, it was time to head home. On paper, it was business as usual, when actually, someone got past his locked door and security cameras, then replaced his arm and leg without him noticing or it being traced in any way. Phage. It had to be. Back home he was struck with the inclination to access a part of the arm. At his whim, it opened in every different way, showing him a plethora of screens, blades and tools. The leg was packed with more of the same, including longer weapons and a collapsible rifle. It was terrifying, but like hell was Vernon going to give it up. To him, this was a real-life quest reward for whatever he’d become involved in. At peace with the day’s events, he showered and went to bed, closing his blinds with all of his tech on mute. There was a lot of rest to be had. The next phase was going to get crazy.

Continue to Part 5-1: Crafting Perfectionist, Reya