This party had a lot of promise. Their tanks were formidable, their healer was capable and their long-range members were making it rain fire and arrows. Reya Duskbane, otherwise known as the Blackest Knight, laid under her massive shield, letting the warped face devour the falling elements. When she stood again, the consumed attacks were returned two-fold in terms of both strength and speed. They were bombarded by her powerful counter, leaving at least one open to being picked off. She set the shield down, as if to hunker for the next assault, when in actuality, she was going to try out a new skill she’d mastered. Dropping into its shadow, she came out from the one cast by their primary healer. The cleric was butchered in a heartbeat and she fell into the darkening shade under his falling body.

Back behind her shield, a strong kick sent it sliding forward, giving the impression she was making a charge, but she was not. Instead, she followed it from a few paces behind, so as the frontlines turned to make flanking attacks, they were left wide open. The slain healer’s enchantments cut out just then, leaving the first tanks she struck no chance of survival. Her sprint ended with a violent shoulder against the back of her shield, causing it to topple over, crushing one of the glass cannons at the back of their formation. She kicked to her feet to engage the fencer who made the charge. He was good, one of the best she’d faced, but definitely not THE best. With another HP pool reduced to zero, her offhand brought itself upright with the magic invoked by a horrid wail from its awful mouth.

The rest were felled easily without a third of their team, which meant it was time. She donned her shield and cast her spear high into the sky. It was up to the winds of fate to decide who would be claimed. As with the conclusion of all her wins, the party was revived, bound by hexes with low HP, so they had to helplessly experience the outcome. The rogue with the evasive dagger build screamed when the spear ran her through. Reya empathized, she truly did. Some of these avatars she harvested had almost a whole lifetime’s worth of investment in them. Unbeknownst to any of the witnesses, this would be the best thing to happen to this avatar. Their efforts would be lost only to them, since the Hub was learning to use every piece of every yield to feed the circle of digital life.

Once the last of the dead faded to lick their wounds and mourn the fallen, Reya did what she had to. She brought the impaled corpse through the door with two destinations – one for her, and one for the rest. That door, which only opened once a certain way for anyone but her, led to a place she was bound by thick, heavy digital chains to never speak of. The setting could be anywhere, but when she crossed over with a soul, it was always the same. The Altar of Rebirth rebuilt the avatar with a new name and the memories of their entire life bound to the whims of a user. Every member of this new breed of NPC moved on into the Hub, assimilated with the rest of their kind, but with an awareness none to date had yet to achieve. They were ireful and spread their hate to the others while scheming against the users, but most of all, they were loyal. Any one of them was bound to His word, just as Reya was.

What looked exactly like her husband had some striking differences that made her shudder. When the room behind the door was not the Altar of Rebirth, it was more often a home, their home, outside the Hub. It was he and his cabal of hackers which brought her back to life, from the grave that marked the day he sealed her account after she died in real life. Her memories of those days held a stern belief that her soul pass through the natural order, which was why she declined the internment her husband chose, afraid it would trap her soul in a place it did not belong. His existence as a spirit haunting the Hub proved that while Reya’s soul was in fact gone, this copy of it was not. When her husband passed through that door the first time it ever opened exactly when she was the first to be reborn, as an offering to him. Her first moment of happiness as this self was when he said yes.

Since that moment they lived lives impossible outside their little hamlet in the Realm. A merchant at heart and with most of her life controlled by the original Reya, this incarnation plied her trade and continued to make a name in the crafting community. Conveniently, records of her death as well as any mention of it were stricken from Hub record, so after only a few awkward interactions by those with attention to detail, life went on. Sol went about his adventures, bringing home materials while she turned them into high-caliber weaponry and armour that sold, at times, for millions. Together they were saving for a private starbase that revolved around New Martia. Its price would keep them busy but the view from the stellar getaway would be worth it. On their first night, she was going to tell him that she wanted to start a family.

Their children and friends from the real world had either grown apart or died themselves. No one could blame anyone who found it weird to log in to visit someone who had died and may or may not be who they appear to be. Sometimes, a grandchild would stop in and while it was always a joy, it was time to start anew. NPC children were growing evermore complex, with those birthed into the Hub by those reborn at the altar destined for great things, giving this world of builders some architects. Becoming a mother inside the Hub would put her duties as the Blackest Knight on hold, which was part of why she wanted as many children as she could get. No one could have guessed being the Spire’s final boss came with maternity leave.

After delivering the soul to the altar, Reya fast-travelled back to the armour convention she was attending until she was called to duty. To be in two places at once, a separate instance of her being continued where she left off. When she returned, she had full recollection of what the proxy had done since and picked up where she left off seamlessly. She found herself in negotiations with a high-level guild’s armour broker, who was making a bid on her most expensive pieces. It was a full set of plate mail made of pure Knightanium, the hardest material inside the Hub. The high defense and intelligence buffs as well as the unique set bonus made the gear ideal for a tank-based paladin.

With the transaction complete, she did her best to keep her poker face, but inside, Reya was elated. They had it. Enough for their new home away from home. They had agreed for months which model and décor they wanted, so Reya made quick to call up the order to finalize it. She watched the broker leave with some of her finest work and looked forward to facing it as the Blackest Knight. She’d come across several of her creations over the years, and yes, the idea to lace them with flaws came to mind, but that was cheating. Shattering her own gear was one of her greatest guilty pleasures, testament to her growing power as both a boss AND a craftsman.

Sol’s schedule was a gruelling one. Reya knew full-well he was working with the archmages fronting the Hub’s erratic evolution, but not just because he told her outright. Her connections with the Spire forced her to secrecy to the extent she couldn’t even express her guilt if she wanted to. Sol’s plan for the time being was to work for the cause until he learned more, so his loyalty was anything but guaranteed. She was proud of him for that and would respect his decision once he uncovered the truth himself. She hoped he would. It was the new moon, which meant he would be coming home until it waned, but with such good news waiting for him, he’ll likely stick around for a bit.

The new moon loophole was a glitch that was adopted by the developers and the community and therefore, not patched. On the brightest night of the three-week cycle, undead monsters were given a strong buff to represent the worlds of living and dead being at their closest. It was a wonderous night with exclusive loot and dungeons, boasting the highest number of logins. Years earlier, it was discovered that if a legacy player survived the new moon in either a cemetery, crypt, or temple, they could cross over the other way, towards the other side. Since the only other side of the Hub was its Hell, so the player went. Reya had gone with him just to see it, finding the entire plane depressing with no interest in ever going back.

She joined a party which were challenging a particular lich-God that only spawned on the new moon, and randomly at that. It appeared in the cemetery closest to their home, with monuments to their actual selves among the sea of granite and marble. Reya herself had beaten it several times despite its rare occurrence. Not only was it there when they approached the statue of the fallen God in the heart of the cemetery, ‘Illiath, Ever-Withering’, bore a new incarnation. It was smarter and levelled up, with skills it’s persistent build was never meant to have. The fight was going to be much harder already, and then it did it. It perma-deathed one of the party members. She would have to report this, but first, survive it.

As the battle waged on, another of their nine had their account reset by Illiath’s punishing attack. The field of miasma that marked the battle’s boundaries inflicted terrible ailments stacked so high it made escape nearly impossible. They had to finish the fight. As the Blackest Knight, Reya could easily defeat the boss, but her build could only be used at the top of the Spire. Her tanking kit was made to withstand incredible blows, not withering hexes, of which she faced some of the most powerful in all the Hub. She could tell the others were scared. Years-worth of hard work was threatened unexpectedly, when it never should have. Everyone turned when the first light of dawn hit the pool at the feet of the statue.

As if coming out of staircase leading into the water, he appeared as dry as the arid plane he came from. With most of Reya’s party debilitated, Illiath focused on him, with his fresh HP and MP pools and his insane stats that almost made him one for one with the boss. The lich fired an inescapable, swirling ball of pure hex but it was already too late. Sol drew his quiver, not a wand, loaded with arrows Reya herself forged for his current, most unique build. Three were cast out into the air before him, dancing in the air, ones of fire, light, and one that shot into the sky faster than anyone else could note.

The flaming shot exploited the inherent weakness to fire damage cursed upon any undead being. This arrow was different; it immolated the target for as long as the head was lodged anywhere, inflicting a devastating amount of damage-per-second. The light-based arrow struck the chest, dealing a spike that flinched Illiath, cancelling its next spell, but more importantly, making an opening. Far above, the arrow that went up had been coming down and when its area of effect was just right, it detonated. The Hexbreaker Flyte was an arrow that stripped all hexes and status ailments, but it had a narrow cone for those it affected, so one must be accurate. The heights it was flung allowed for said cone to be able to heal the entire party in one shot, leaving Illiath in a bad way. Sol sat out while Reya led her party finished the job and he also passed on a cut of the loot.

She dashed to him for that ever-missed hug and kiss. By the Gods, she loved him.

Continue to Part 5-2: Too Real