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  “I can defend myself just fine!”

  Wyl’s eyes were squinting in concentration. Whatever programming guided the captain was checking for her abilities. Those would be compared to some vague form of quest prerequisites. At least, that was what I assumed was happening. In reality, most people seemed to believe that getting into a fight was stupid. Here inside the machine, people’s looks and their abilities didn’t match up.

  One player had recently made it to a Rank three on the Archer path. He’d spent hours every day in front of a range operated by a training hall. In theory, Rank three was high for a newbie leaving town. Two was the average for those starting the combat path. There was an entire host of crafting ones, like Pie Master’s Path, that gauged things differently. Likely he would move on to another town via an escort if he needed to, or he’d make friends with a warrior in order to travel around, serving as support.

  “You might survive a quick tour, but you’d be dead weight in any serious assault,” Wyl said.

  “I wouldn’t—”

  “You would. You, beyond a doubt, would die over and over.” Wyl’s tone didn’t increase in volume. It was flat and sure. “Strange Traveler powers and blessings from the Voices aside, you would die on anything serious. You’re lucky I’m considering taking you to clear some wolves out of the Royal forest.”

  I watched a box pop up in front of HotPants.

  She looked confused and upset at the same time.

  “This will get me out of town? If I accept?”

  “I have the authority to provide a temporary pass as long as you’re escorted.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?” HotPants growled.

  “You probably didn’t ask the right people. Attitude doesn’t get you far around here,” Wyl said without even a trace of a frown. He was unfazed by the bundle of anger.

  “Will you be done by tomorrow?” My body was feeling the weight of today’s excursions. Both hands used the cane as a third leg.

  “I’ll send a squad on an overnight with her. It’ll be a good change for all of them.” The trademark smile was still mostly present on Wyl’s face.

  “Think you got someone who can keep her in line?” I lifted the cane in a halfhearted gesture toward HotPants.

  The other players were in the background, arguing over something, still. They had barely taken notice of our stop.

  “Probably not. But if she steps too far out, she’ll die. The aggressive ones normally solve their own problems.”

  “Mh.” I turned to HotPants and glared for a moment.

  “If you die tomorrow, you won’t be able to recover in time. You best be careful.”

  “As if I need a computer to be concerned for my well-being.”

  I shrugged in response. Her commentary against me was both amusing and annoying. Amusing because she thought I was a computer, but annoying for the same reason. My acting as William Carver had flaws, but he was a person too!

  “Most Travelers find death unpleasant. You’ll learn soon enough,” Wyl said.

  “Pain is a great teacher.” Old Man Carver’s simulated heart attacks were enough to send me to my knees. I couldn’t imagine death felt any better. The only blessing would be if it was sudden and not lingering.

  “Why does a video game have pain?” SweetPea was paying attention now.

  “Because it’s awesome,” Awesome Jr. whispered.

  “No pain, no gain,” Shadow affirmed. “Check out Stanford’s study on the Pain Response and Learning in a Virtual Simulation.”

  “Two hours from now, I’ll send a group out. You get whatever you think you need together and be here in an hour thirty. We’ll need time to go over whatever supplies you missed.” Wyl was already issuing orders, which seemed to grind HotPants’s gears something fierce.

  She suffered through in stride with a curt nod and charged off.

  “See you tomorrow!” SweetPea gave an impressive yell for her personality.

  I shrugged and went over my mental map for other possible training locations.

  “Got anything for more speed?” Shadow was busy pulling at pieces of his gear and frowning. His shirt seemed to be riding up under the overlay of armor.

  “I thought you didn’t need anything.”

  The wannabe assassin growled at my snide remark. “I don’t. But I’ll take anything you’ve got.”

  “I know a man who’s really good at teaching young cocky boys how to dress.” He would outfit the player in literal dresses with makeup and everything. There was nothing in my book against cross-dressing, but I imagined it would be a surprise if revealed at the wrong moment.

  Shadow actually looked thoughtful for a moment. I sighed. The youngster probably thought it was a disguise art of some sort. He clearly seemed to be going the extra mile for his ninja image. I briefly compiled a list of possible skills needed for a Ninja Path, assuming there was such a thing. It seemed very likely that there was.

  “No, if we’re going into a dungeon, I need speed or stealth. Both preferably.” Shadow was at least certain in what he wanted to take away from this game. Many players lacked the drive he displayed.

  “Mh.” I hummed and pulled out the map. Skills that combined traits were harder to nail down on the map. Often times they required the players to actively combine tasks.

  “You should follow the recruits around,” Wyl said.

  “What? What do you mean?” Shadow asked.

  “New guards, I send them out running laps around the town with their armor on. It helps build their endurance, especially for the ones bucking for a promotion to a knight squad.” Wyl’s face shone with a smile and a glint of pride in his eyes.

  Carver’s—my—screen popped up a message about Wyl’s pride in his former students’ successes. There was even a count of how many former soldiers and Traveler trainees went on to other occupations.

  “That’s cruel,” SweetPea said.

  “It’s effective. You should try it too, little miss. Travelers should take advantage of everything they can,” the guard captain said.

  “So you think I should follow a guard around?” Shadow turned the conversation back to his own personal needs. One hand fiddled with the dagger at his hip idly.

  I could see Wyl keeping an eye on Shadow’s hand, but he didn’t seem too worried.

  “Let’s make a game of it. You give the guard a short head start, then try to trail him without getting caught.”

  “What do I get out of it?”

  “You win, I’ll give you a handful of silver per person. You lose, and my trainee gets to stop their lap and come on back.”

  “They’ll accept that?”

  “It’s a big town,” Wyl said with a faint smile.

  “I’m in. We doing this all night?” The would-be assassin looked pleased but for entirely selfish reasons.

  “Nighttime patrols will change a little because of the risk. We’ll see how you do on the first few.” The captain shrugged. He didn’t seem overly worried either way. “I’ve got other ideas to keep it interesting if it’s too easy.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Awesome’s my father.” Awesome Jr. was smiling too. How many times could he play that joke before becoming annoying?

  “Shut up.” Shadow scowled for a moment, looking remarkably similar to a HotPants level of anger. “Wyl right? Thanks for this. It sounds fun and like a good training method.”

  “It’ll help my men learn a few skills too. Spotting a tail is good for undercover work if any of them want to join a King’s Inquisition.”

  “What’s that?” Shadow asked.

  “Wyl, I’m going to drag these other two onward. Thank you for your time.”

  “Oh, right, here I am gabbing away. Any time, Carver. You keep in good health.” Wyl didn’t seem done though. His mouth kept right on running as he slowly came to our side of the guard post and put an arm on my shoulder.

  “Me and the boy saw your posting, and the ladies in the temple are in a tizzy o
ver your recent actions. I said to them, let an old man do what he wants with the twilight years. It’s what I’d want.”

  I nodded.

  “Let me die with a sword in my hand and a prayer on my lips. Not a whimper in my bed.” Wyl shook his head and looked sad for a moment. This became one of the few times I’d seen him without a smile of some sort.

  “Sounds like a good plan.” The people in this world were lucky that way. In the real world, we rarely had a warrior’s way out. Modern medicine kept the old alive and feeble. But Carver would want to go out with a bang, not a whisper. That was exactly what William Carver, what I, would do.

  “Hah! Carver, whatever you’ve cooked up, you give ‘em hell for me!”

  “I will, Wyl.” Saying that was almost a miniature tongue twister.

  Wyl went from hot to cold very quickly depending on who he was talking to. His minions—I mean, lesser guards—were treated very differently than an old war buddy was treated.

  At least I thought that’s what our relationship was. The notes needed another review. This world had thrown so many bits of information at me that I was nearly drowning. Work tomorrow would suck simply because of the mundane nature in comparison.

  A few more dominoes were left. Then we would see where everything fell. Thank goodness the Voice of Gambling and his negative buff hadn’t impacted Old Man Carver’s stats. Being this tired and walking around with nagging pain everywhere was enough of a punishment.

  If I could use Carver’s skills to the fullest, without negative side effects, then clearing this dungeon would be easy. Speaking of cake, where was the [Messenger’s Pet]?

  “Mister Carver, sir.” SweetPea sounded demure again. It was annoying and sort of cute at the same time.

  “What is it?” I grumbled.

  “Do you have any suggestions for me?”

  “Nope. You need to figure out what you want for yourself. Not me. No one is required to follow a path. You make a choice and work hard.” Not once had I forced any player to learn a skill, aside from whatever resulted from the introduction quests.

  “I only know how to clean.” She sounded sad and pulled the hoodie down even more.

  “Your meatloaf was really good, Melissa.”

  “Thanks, Adam.”

  “Maybe I should leave you two alone.” Carver was very good at sounding grumpy, even if I personally felt like teasing people. It just came out that way.

  “No, it’s okay, Carver. We should try to do something to help make this better. None of the other players even tried to help you with the flier, so I feel kind of bad forcing you to figure out something on your own.”

  I was completely stunned by Awesome Jr.’s statement. While it was true that no one had really tried to help me, the fact that he felt guilt toward an NPC was almost overpowering. My rueful grin at his new pop-up box was response enough. From this angle, I could easily see the reputation with “William (Old Man) Carver” increase, and I wasn’t even upset. Awesome Jr. had been serious about it.

  I nodded again.

  “Did you still want to learn magic?”

  “I tried that and failed.” His head actually dipped and hung in depression.

  “Who did you talk to?”

  “Shandra Tull. She was the one my quest chain led to.”

  SweetPea was looking at Awesome Jr. with one eyebrow high under her hood.

  “Yeah. She was nice and gave me a few books, but nothing clicked.”

  Shandra wasn’t actually a mage of any sort, according to my notes. She was more of a hedge witch with a steep learning curve. I idly followed the markings all over town and found a few good starter methods for learning magic. Of course doing that made me feel like a dirty cheater with a personal walkthrough but I was also Old Man Carver, guide to the new and confused. The balance was strange.

  “You might be missing something.” My teeth chewed on one lip in thought.

  “Like what?”

  “Mh. Not everything is as simple as learning abilities right away, not even for Travelers.”

  How should I explain a topic I barely understood? William Carver had no access to magic or any sort of alternate energy form. According to his skills everything went “Swing the big sword, swing it some more, swing it harder and scream!”

  “Come on. Come,” I said.

  We took another trip slowly. The sun was setting, and I was getting extremely tired. Plus being out too late would get me in trouble with my progress bar. If this quest attempt failed, I would need every point available.

  “Need a ride, geezer?” A bell from the bicycle dinged a few times as Phil navigated the metal device to a halt nearby.

  “Phil. It’s about time.” I loaded myself onto the cart’s plush seating. Moments later, I had a map out and was jabbing one finger at the meditation cave.

  “Can you get us here?”

  “I’m pretty beat. Maybe to the base of the hill, but any farther up? No. Not on this thing.” Phil was wearing a slight frown and both eyebrows creased together.

  “That’s good enough.”

  “Fine, but deal’s a deal’s a deal, right? The bike’s all ours after today?”

  “As long as it stays with the orphanage.” I nodded.

  “Of course, geezer. The other kids wanted to ride around before lights out; figured we could take them on trips.” Phil was talking really fast. “Mylia wants to use it as a reward for those who help out.”

  “You take her up on that.”

  “Hah! If we had a few more of these, then the older kids wouldn’t be worried about jobs.”

  That, my dear Phil, was the entire plan. I wanted the orphan kids to have something to do for money while growing up, plus bikes were cool for children.

  “Seriously, Mister Carver, I can’t believe you made a bicycle,” Awesome Jr. said.

  “You Travelers aren’t the only ones with brains,” Phil shouted back at us.

  The cart was going entirely too fast for me, but Carver’s body rode it out as though it was a standard day.

  Icons and text boxes for riding skills and safety checks appeared. More pluses and minuses from the state of our cart showed up. Phil’s driving skills were even factored into it somewhere. Poor SweetPea and Awesome Jr. had no idea what to think. The girl clutched at her knitted hat, and Awesome Jr. was almost a dog sticking his head out the window.

  After a slew of bumps and awkwardly broken up conversations, we arrived at the cave. This place was south of the town’s main gate. Close enough to be part of [Haven Valley] but very much out of the way.

  “What are we out here for?”

  I squinted through the trees and brush up the hill. Phil was laying over the handle bars, puffing in gasps of air. Poor boy had worked hard today. A routine involving morning stretches would help.

  “Up there.” I lifted the cane and pointed toward a ledge.

  “What’s up there?” Awesome Jr.’s neck looked funny with his head tilted so far back.

  “A cave.” Dirt, rocks, some plants. I felt empathy for William’s abrasiveness when dealing with Travelers. Where had their adventurous spirit gone? Had it been bred out of humanity?

  “Caves have bats,” he protested.

  “It’s only bats.” SweetPea looked confused. Was Awesome Jr. afraid of bats?

  “They poop everywhere,” he said.

  “Gross.”

  “This cave has more than bats.” I didn’t even try to sound reassuring. Carver didn’t do reassuring! WWCD? Grump and shrug!

  “Why go to it?”

  “Go as deep as you can into the cave. Spend the entire night.”

  SweetPea went red, but not as red as Awesome Jr. I lowered my eyebrows in a level glare. The two of them had that annoying young love gaze that turned everything lovey. It was best to put a halt to that right away.

  “It’s not a romantic date. It’s a place to train.”

  “Will we learn magic?” she asked. Her mouth curled in an excited smile.

  �
�You’ll learn something. What you take away is up to you.” One of my shoulders came up in a half shrug. The other was too stiff to move properly. Magic was one of the possible outcomes, according to Carver’s map. There were many others as well, each one a slightly different flavor.

  “How come you never told us about this place?” Awesome Jr. asked.

  “You didn’t ask the right questions. No one ever does.” I didn’t ask James the right questions most of the time. It was more fun to treat our conversations as a lax chat rather than an interrogation. These would be the first players I guided to this cave.

  “I’m in. How about you, Adam?”

  “If you’re going.” Poor boy was still red-faced.

  I smirked as they walked into the distance. Surprisingly, sending them off together earned me a few more points on the progress bar. Today I learned William Carver was secretly a romantic.

  Progress: 80%

  “Come on, Phil. I need to go home.”

  “No can do, geezer. Mylia wanted you to drop by tonight,” Phil responded with half his normal cheek. He still looked winded.

  I sighed. The timing was never convenient. Not when it really mattered.

  “You can take the slow route then.”

  Session Fifteen — Unaware Farewell

  Whistling was hard with partially chapped lips. Old Man Carver also couldn’t carry a tune to save his life. I couldn’t hear one either, at least not without an extremely loud tone. We passed by a man in the park who looked as if he was trying to woo [Coo-Coo Rill]s with his voice.

  Phil commented on how terrible he sounded, and I grunted because none of the noise had made it to me. Even the man’s shape was a pleasant blur. Reactions like Phil’s were why I avoided dancing in public back in the real world. Too much judgment abounded in our world of instantly uploaded videos and attention mongering. Here, inside Continue Online, dancing was easier. More than once I had taken Carver’s body through a slow jig of happiness. Plus dancing a jig was kind of fun.

  I enjoyed irritating Phil with my own terrible whistle between the cave of mysteries and Mylia’s orphanage. Though neither name was accurate. Cave of mysteries had a nice ring to it. Better than [Maze of Midnight].