The Oracle Paths

Far from the battlefield, in an austere room with virtually no light except for a foul-smelling candle about to go out, two greenish flames suddenly flared up in the darkness, revealing ancient, cobwebbed furniture.

Like the fuse of a firecracker setting off a chain explosion, hundreds of additional pairs of burning flames lit up the darkness, like a night sky filling with stars. The dim but constant light produced by these flames combined until it was more than bright enough to clearly discern every detail of the room.

Hundreds of identical figures were revealed one by one, standing in motionless, mute rows behind the one in front, who owned the first two flames. Each figure was hooded and their faces were inexpressive, pale white and as stiff and smooth as plastic.

When the first figure to awaken rose, the two emerald flames rose with it. Those creepy flames were obviously its eyes.

“My C-52 clone is dead.” It murmured with a hint of bewilderment. “Data recovery.”

The flames shimmering in its empty sockets flickered compulsively for several seconds before regaining their stability.

“It’s a vexing twist, but the bulk of the Undead army is safe. The plan can be considered a success.” The android Delcron laughed peacefully. “Hmm?”

A notification popped into its mind, informing it of an attempted communication.

“Are you on your way back?” The Lich questioned apathetically. “Anything unusual happened? Excellent. I’ll wait for you you know where. See you later.”

A few minutes later, two men sporting a hefty Oracle Device stepped fearlessly into the spooky room. The man on the left was an intimidating warrior over 3 meters tall, with a bushy mane and beard, sharp eyes, overbearing musculature and an electric aura. His distinctive feature was the red tattooed stripes vertically crossing his torso and face.

The man on the right was significantly smaller, but his orange eyes with slit pupils were brimming with such cruelty and malice that his Viking buddy looked like an innocent child. He too had lost his coat and was walking around shirtless, a dagger in his belt and a huge bloodstained saw slung across his back.

A cracking sound suddenly pierced the chilling silence and as he lifted his boot the taller of the two men discovered a crushed child’s skull beneath it. Sweeping the dusty room with his piercing eyes, he saw thousands of corpses and bones piled together in varying degrees of decay.

“Your hobbies are still as disgusting as ever.” The warrior spat in a scathing voice. “If I hadn’t learned the hard way that this is impossible, I’d kill you with my own hands.”

The Delcron necromancer chuckled lightly at the thinly veiled threat,

“Please, keep trying Azeus. But you have everything to lose and nothing to gain by provoking us. Isn’t that right Shamash? Unless my hobbies bother you too?”

The man named Shamash replied by throwing the dagger at his belt right between the android’s eyes. He had drawn it so fast that the Lich had no time to react.

The damaged android began to sizzle, then the two flames floating in its sockets flickered a few times before fizzling out altogether. The Player recalled his dagger magically as he reached out and growled in contempt,

“Don’t threaten me, Vhoskaud. You’re not worthy.”

Compared to his partner Azeus, Shamash didn’t seem to be burdened with the same concerns.

Faced with the unexpected death of one of their own, the other identical androids remained unmoved, but their mouths opened in unison as they began to speak in a robotic voice.

“You may be a genuine member of Lost Divinities, but a false god does not have what it takes to threaten my Death Legion. Not to mention the fact that my Replicators faction is not inferior to yours and I am not the only member currently mobilized on Quanoth. Think carefully before you burn all bridges.

A terrible killing intent gushed forth from the Player Shamash, but the android Liches remained totally unfazed, brushing it off effortlessly. When the killing pressure receded, Vhoskaud then asked in a feverish mood, burning with excitement as it rubbed its hands together,

“So. Where is the corpse?”

Shamash rolled his eyes, but still gave a head nod to his partner, who materialized the corpse stored in his Space Storage. Carelessly tossing the corpse of a mutilated middle-aged man in front of the Lich army, Azeus growled coldly,

“This is the test subject you wanted. This is the Mutant that has been giving us such a hard time.”

One of the androids stepped out of the rows and proceeded to orderly check the corpse’s condition, checking every bit of its body, from its tongue to its missing genitals before ranting,

“Where is the missing organ?!”

“Destroyed during the fight.” Azeus spat out while surreptitiously pointing at Shamash with his eyes. His partner’s sadistic practices sickened him almost as much as this Lich’s macabre hobbies.

The android Vhoskaud read through its Oracle Scan report and concluded placidly,

“Norton, a level 78 Ape-Daemon mutant. We had no information on him, except that he is one of the founding members of the Mutant Faction with Aisling. It seems we underestimated the forces in Laudarkvik. Even without Aisling, this Mutant Faction obviously still has plenty of teeth. In that case, the other factions must be even more formidable. It’s troublesome news, but the mission was a success and I gained a new guinea pig.”

Then the Lich waved its hand and shooed them away without a second glance, its mind already elsewhere, immersed in the corpse of the deceased Norton.

“You may go.”

The two men quivered with anger, a murderous gleam in their eyes, but with an ear-splitting snort they withdrew, leaving to carry out their next mission.

*****

Shling!

A spray of blood painted the crumbling cliff and the last human’s head rolled to the ground. Jake kicked it furiously, shooting it into space. The last specter’s wail of agony rang out at the same time and a puddle of ectoplasm dripped onto the fluid-soaked grass.

“Phew… That was the last one.” Wyatt exhaled tiredly. His usually perfectly waxed and styled hair was now a mess and stained with blood.

Both Jake and the Vampire Progenitor were drenched in sweat, their chests heaving rapidly despite their insane stamina and vitality. Both had been injured multiple times during the fight, but their unparalleled regeneration had prevailed.

If Jake had not drawn on Xion Zolvhur’s Soul Stone to restore his Spirit Body on the way, the fight would have been even more difficult. After all those times of using it, the stone hadn’t shrunk a bit. Fortunately, with the help of Wyatt who was in his best shape, the victory had quickly tipped in their favor. The elf Elduin had also participated to the best of his ability to assist them.

“How is Bhammod?” Jake inquired, praying he wouldn’t lose a new comrade.

“Hmmph! That drunken dwarf is a tough cookie. I gave him my last precious elixir…” Elduin winced as he kicked the sleeping dwarf before mellowing. “If you hadn’t arrived in time, it would have been dangerous.”

Jake volunteered to carry the unconscious dwarf back and the trio quickly returned near the convoy to where Carmin and her sister had been hiding. When they arrived, they saw that Carmin had already regained consciousness and was weeping bitterly as she cradled her sister’s lifeless body.

Their hearts sank as they witnessed the scene, but neither of them could find anything adequate or soothing to say. In the end, they let her cry her eyes out, but when it didn’t look like it was going to stop, Jake walked over to her and blurted out,

“She’s not dead. Stop crying.”

She glared at him, but strangely enough, stating the obvious did the trick. She wiped away her tears and stored her sister’s body in her bracelet to keep it safe until it was gone. Jake had never witnessed the phenomenon in person, but the Players’ bodies would disappear after a few hours.

Without this measure, eliminated Players would be forced to go into debt to generate a new identical body from scratch. At least in this case they only had to restore the damaged areas.

This made him realize, though, that many Players, including his comrades, had had a close call. If their bodies had been immediately eaten, incinerated or chopped up by their enemies during their First Ordeal, the healing bill would have been prohibitive.

Jake then returned with his group to the convoy and was shocked to discover that no one was left. Not a single corpse, not a single survivor. After all the Wengol refugees and soldiers had been wiped out, their Death Mark had activated and they had joined the ranks of the Undead army before scattering into the woods.

“I see someone.” Elduin suddenly shouted after perching on top of an overturned carriage.

Jake and the others were taken aback, but as they ran in the direction indicated they did spot a childlike figure wandering aimlessly in the middle of the plain. As they got closer, Jake and the others recognized this Undead and were completely shocked.

“Trash?”