*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Iron Confederacy Borders*
Demir and Asena cut their squabble short, both looking at the bike as it stopped and returned, coming near them. The mechanical hum grew louder as it approached, then softer as it descended.
Demir froze, shield raised reflexively, sword half-drawn in stance he'd practiced ten thousand times but which suddenly felt inadequate against whatever technology this represented. The dragon bike hovered for a moment - actual hovering, defying gravity through means he couldn't begin to guess - then slowly descended to the ground, its hovering mechanism whining down through frequencies until it settled with a mechanical sigh. The fire-spewing mechanism and colored lights faded, exhaust vents cooling from red to orange to dull metal.
When the systems fully shut down, it looked less like a war machine and more like a luxury hand-crafted bike - the kind of vehicle that spoke of wealth and craftsmanship and aesthetic priorities that went beyond mere function. Beautiful, in its way, though beauty that carried implicit threat.
Demir stared at the driver, his analytical mind cataloging details even as his combat instincts screamed contradictory warnings. The driver was an old man wearing dark pristine leather armor that somehow looked both practical and expensive - contradiction that marked quality craftsmanship. At the mirror handle perched a white bunny whose presence seemed so incongruous that Demir briefly wondered if he was hallucinating from dehydration. At the back sat a shadowborn - one of the rarer races in Aethyros - looking decidedly not pleased with stopping, their pale features expressing what might have been irritation or might have been their natural resting expression. Hard to tell with shadowborn.
The old man pulled a cigar from inside his armor and lit it with casual gesture that suggested this was routine rather than performance. He took a long draw before speaking. "You know you can't defeat this area's beast boss with that crappy equipment." The words emerged with smoke, blunt assessment delivered without particular malice but no gentleness either
The bunny squeaked, "Hey, why did we stop? Let him worry about that."
The shadowborn sighed and turned the other way, arms crossed.
The old man waved his hand at the bunny dismissively, then turned back to Demir. "You can't tame him..." He paused, looking at Asena with what appeared to be professional assessment. "Can't tame her either. If you don't have above 60 beastmaster level. Want me to take care of her?"
Asena growled angrily, lips pulled back to show teeth. Demir interjected, "No, no. We just have a little rivalry. No need to attack. Ever since I saved her from the goblin chief, she's been following me. She is the area boss you said?"
The old man nodded. "Oh boy, you started a taming storyline. She is the beast area boss for beastmaster classes. Before the game stopped and cut us from the HUD. And I am assuming you don't have sixty beastmaster levels to tame her and can't defeat her with those crappy gears either."
Asena growled angrily, the sound building from warning to threat, her entire posture shifting to combat readiness.
"Hey, I crafted these. And yes, I don't have any levels in beastmaster. In fact, I was level twelve before the game shutdown. I played three days seven years ago."
The old man whistled. "Crazy bad luck. I played nearly a hundred years." He took another puff of his cigar, smoke wreathing his head like temporary crown. "And even I have some tough times with my level. Low level zones really messed up."
The bunny protested, "Don't lie. No one's giving you tough times."
"Sure did," the old man countered. "You're living in my comfort zone. Everything seems easy when someone else does the heavy lifting."
Demir found his voice again, curiosity overriding caution. "Who are you guys and what are you driving? By the talk of it, you are a player. But you're traveling with locals."
The old man nodded slowly, as if deciding how much to reveal. "There are many locals who didn't want to be cut from the universe. And so many more can see the Covenant or the instigator trying to become god. So they want to prevent that."
"So you are high level, and you and your buddies are trying to get us out?"
"Yes."
The single word hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"Can I join?" Demir asked immediately, the question escaping before he could properly consider its ramifications.
The old man studied him for a long moment, taking another draw on his cigar before responding. "I mean, if you are level twelve, you need protection. Go to high level cities. Seek protection. You said you are a crafter. You can mend and repair their gear rather than making crappy gear and fighting goblins in these backwater zones."
"Do you think these are crappy?" Demir asked, defensive pride making his voice tight.
The shadowborn spoke for the first time, his voice smooth. "That shield looks nice."
The old man snorted. "Yeah, because you're a mage. I could cut through it easily." He paused, leaning forward slightly. "I can't see the sword from here, but your armor... what? D rank? E rank? You can't survive in our struggle. Not yet."
Demir unsheathed his sword, Wolf's Vow catching the light in ways that made the orichalcum blade seem to glow from within. The movement was smooth, practiced, ending with blade held at presentation angle.
The old man leaned forward. "Now this looks good. Orichalcum blade." He squinted, professional assessment overriding casual dismissal. "Not the finest craftsmanship, but respectable. That handle and pommel don't look great from here, though. You made that?" "Not the finest grade. That handle and pommel don't look good from here. You also made that?"
"I did," Demir said, unable to keep pride from his voice.
"Good job." The old man's tone had shifted, carrying newfound respect. "I never tried crafting jobs. Always seemed like work."
"Can I make a ride like yours?" Demir asked, looking at the bike with naked wanting.
The old man actually laughed - brief, sharp sound. "I'm afraid not. This is hand-crafted by the Game Designer himself. There are two others, but they're not in Aethyros. This is the single most expensive vehicle in the universe."
Demir opened his mouth.
The old man cut him off. "Not counting spaceships, of course. Or any other ship. It's the most expensive bike, let's say."
"Where are the others?" Curiosity outweighed disappointment.
"Richest players bought them and placed them in their museums. Collector's items, never used." The old man's voice carried faint contempt for that waste. "One crazy rich person who loves to pretend they're Satar's capital underground boss put theirs as a prize for a decade-long tournament."
"Decade-long tournament?" The concept seemed almost incomprehensible.
"There are tournaments held in the Kingdom of Satar every year. And players put prizes to increase entry. For the thousand-year anniversary, I won four tournaments out of ten of that decade. And won the bike almost eighty years ago."
"Are tournaments still going on?"
"Yeah. Prize pool got lowered. But they also now make tournaments for under level fifty."
The bunny squeaked impatiently, "Let's go already. You can't be his guide."
"Fine, fine." The old man made placating gesture. "Be careful with the wolf. You can't tame her. Not while the game is like this. System won't recognize the bond. I think" He paused, as if considering whether to share more, then apparently decided in favor of basic politeness. "I'm Lex De Souza ada Rainz, by the way. This is Snowflake" - indicating the bunny - "and he is Ember" - nodding toward the shadowborn.
"Thanks for giving me ideas," Demir said, mind already churning with possibilities. "I'll try to join higher zones after I reach my friends. I'm Demir. Demir Strovan."
Lex's expression shifted, something triggering in his memory. "Demir. Demir... where did we hear that name before?" He looked at Snowflake questioningly.
"I don't know," the bunny replied with clear disinterest in puzzle-solving.
But the old man's eyes popped open. "The fox! The black fox who came after the Chalice rescue."
He turned back to Demir with renewed intensity. "Kid, take off your helmet."
Demir did as told, removing his helmet to reveal spiky brown hair matted with sweat and dust.
Lex nodded, pieces falling together. "Yeah, spiky brown hair. Kid, a black fox asked about you. Well, it was carrying a communication device. Someone asked it to ask about you."
Demir's heart jumped, pulse suddenly racing. "What? A fox? The black fox?" His mind immediately went to Aris. "I sent my friend a pet fox before we separated. It must be that fox. It must be Aris's fox!"
"Could be," Lex agreed. "Some pets gained speech after the game closed. Lot of weird side effects from the Severing."
"Where are they? When did this happen?" The questions tumbled out, desperate and urgent.
"It was two days ago at Chalice Theocracy."
"I need to go there immediately. See my friend." Aris was alive, apparently, and okay, living in Chalice. Chalice was across the sea from Selqua. It made sense.
The old man raised his hand, stopping Demir's mounting enthusiasm. "Nope, nope, you can't go there. There is probably a giant player hunt right now. We kind of made a huge mess. Aeloria must be furious."
"But that means Aris must be in danger!" Demir's voice rose with panic he couldn't quite suppress.
"The fox said their group infiltrated there," Lex explained with patience born from experience delivering bad news. "So they probably have good cover. You'd blow that cover. Take your time. At least a year. Don't go there until things cool down."
But the idea took root in Demir, burning.
"What did you do that was so bad?" he asked, needing to understand the scale of mess they were discussing.
"Nothing much," Lex said with studied casualness that immediately suggested the opposite.
The bunny snorted. "Nothing much, my ass. He raided the Covenant meeting when Aeloria was trying to enter the Covenant. She will probably spit fire all year at anyone she sees."
"What is your level?" Demir asked, suddenly needing to quantify the power differential.
"It was 98 before the game closed," Lex said, and somehow made near-max-level sound like no particular accomplishment.