[F29 | SP] [EV] A Bottle a Day | <<Fatal Error>>

[Acanthus 0]

Acanthus lay there, stunned. She had always wondered what it would be like to finally convince part of the game that it was crafted. Seeing the results left Acanthus terrified.

“There’s something wrong here. On Mire—M–ire… Floor Twenty-Nine.” Her voice stuttered like a lagging internet connection. “I’m supposed to die every day. But I’m not supposed to remember it.” She held up her fingers and began to count. “Drowned. Cut down. Suffocated. Crushed by debris. Eaten. Eaten alive. Drowned again.” Her laugh echoed, causing the bell to ring faintly. “The list goes on. I didn’t always remember. But then t-t-t-he floor opened. I died again. But the c-code… different. This time different. And I remembered. What I was supposed to forget.”

The sound of the rats swelled below. Acanthus needed to escape, but the woman’s story enraptured her. She needed to know what was happening, even if it killed her.

“After that first drowning, I woke up. I thought about my husband. My daughter. The women I would meet for morning gossip as we repaired the fishnets. Did any of it ever happen? Was I ever happy? Or was I only p-p-prog-g-grammed to remember happiness?” A heavy pause filled the belltower as both women pondered the question.

“When I die, it’s always god’s—Cardinal’s—fault. So today I decided I would take responsibility. And maybe… Maybe that would disrupt the cycle. Maybe this time, I won’t come back.” Her foot moved off the edge of the tower once again.

“I need your help,” Acanthus rolled over, dragging herself upright. “I can’t go back down. The swarm of rats will kill me.”

“And what can I do about that?” The woman smiled sadly. “All I can do is tell you that it will be painless. But that would be lying.”

[Acanthus 0]

The reality of the situation settled in. The rats, an end of her own making, was so close that it pressed against the hatch. The tower was tall enough that even if she could survive the fall, she would almost certainly be paralyzed long enough for the rats to reach her. The hope she had chosen to chase dangled over a ledge of her own, eager for escape at any cost.

Her final thoughts were a steady stream of practical concerns. Who’s going to keep my shop open? I’m not married, so none of my items will pass on either. What a waste. I spent a long time getting all of my gear together. This is going to be a pain for the frontlines. Sorry, everyone.

Acanthus straightened up. If she was going to die, she’d do it on her feet. Stemming the tide of rats breaking through the fractured hatch, she looked up at the woman. If she survived her next death, maybe she would remember Acanthus. And maybe she could pass along a message.

“Miss, could you—”

Acanthus froze. The woman stood petrified, her face struck a rictus, teeth bared like a terrified animal. Across her entire body, cracks of a broken mirror formed. She hissed through her still teeth.

“What did you do to me?!”

The woman’s fear was contagious. Acanthus watched speechlessly as the woman contorted in impossible ways. Three pops, and her arm was gone, replaced by the faint outline of an armored bicep. Two pops, and her head was gone. Smoke rose from the woman’s neck and formed a sallet. Acanthus could still hear her hollow screams.

“Get AWAY from me!”

The half-woman, half-knight lumbered towards her. Acanthus tried to back away, but her legs cried out in protest. The woman’s body cracked so loudly that the bell above them resonated with a dull tone. Both of her arms were now fiendishly large, grasping a greataxe as big as Acanthus.

There was nowhere left to retreat. Acanthus cast her eyes downward. A towering pile of boxes was the only thing available for her to fall into. That would still probably kill her, unless the game leaned heavily into video-game logic. And even still, the rats…

The swarm of rats burst from the hatch below, spilling onto the belltower like rushing sewage. Acanthus swatted pathetically at a few of them, but hundreds more found their way past her armor, biting and clawing and scratching. They dug their way into the woman—now a grotesque, faceless knight. The figure was silent as the rats scoured it for food, but their hopes of a meal had died with the woman.

Acanthus’ health bar dwindled to yellow, replete with more debuffs than she had ever seen in her time in Aincrad. Her battle healing had stopped, her legs were no longer working… This was it. She looked at the knight one last time, and closed her eyes.

[Acanthus 0]

A clarion call erupted from the knight, overwhelming and terrifying. The volume and intensity increased until a small *pop* signaled the end of her hearing. Acanthus could feel the vibration of the horn shifting the organs in her body, and the paws of each individual rat as they scattered. They were no longer biting; they seemed more terrified of the knight that they were hungry for Acanthus. All at once, the infinite rats vanished like a cloud of soot, leaving her alone on the belltower with either her savior and executioner.

The knight regarded Acanthus with a sense of intelligence she found disturbing. Monsters in game had a simple binary: if a player was in range, the player would be attacked. But the knight stood calmly, weighing its options, calculating whether or not Acanthus was worth the kill. She did not have the strength to fight, the energy to speak, or the humility to beg. So Acanthus waited for the knight to make its decision.

The ghostly knight turned its entire body, attention snared by something out of sight. Acanthus recognized that direction—the teleportation plaza. Smoke twisted around the knight’s body, enveloping and dismantling it in slow, deep breaths of movement. The top of its head vanished at last, leaving Acanthus standing alone.

[Acanthus 0]

Her return to the teleportation plaza was a blur of pain. Acanthus had the distinct sensation of her mind and body as separate entities, firmly detached and refusing to communicate. Her body processed physical sensations—the swampy roads back to Illridge, the violent vibrations of her left leg and both of her arms. Other parts of her body she could not name twisted in pain as well. The litany of debuffs remained even outside of battle. She did not recognize half of them, but she did see her health bar slowly draining, battle healing be damned.

 Her mind took these sensations and archived them, keeping them as far away from her memory as possible. She recalled seeing people in Illridge as she hobbled to the plaza, but it was late: 02:32, by her system clock. If anyone noticed her or talked to her, her mind had archived the memory before she could even remember it.

The next thing she could remember was walking into Argent’s bar. If she was going to die soon, she decided she could at least follow up with the broker that had given her the lead. It was the polite thing to do.

[Acanthus 0]

Argent stood at the bar, wiping it down one last time. It had been a good evening: plenty of people and plenty of good conversations. Around 2:30, he had sent the last three patrons, a friendly group of older men, on their way. They paid their tab cheerfully and tucked their chairs in as they left. Now that Argent stood alone in the bar, he could begin to clean.

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to only clean when no one was around. Part of the feeling stemmed from a desire to be present with the patrons while they were here. Many of them came here to talk and socialize, and when they didn’t bring people to socialize with, Argent filled that role. He enjoyed it—he enjoyed everything about the bar, really. He was quick to understand that he would probably not enjoy this in real life. But here in Aincrad, he felt at home behind the bar, dispensing drinks and conversation in tandem.

Maybe I’ll try opening a bar when we get home. Lots of paperwork, and taxes, and unruly customers… He knew it was an idle fantasy. When trapped in a fantasy, he found it humorous to fantasize about mundanity.

Then again, I won’t ever get that chance if we don’t clear the game. Argent's thoughts meandered to the frontliners, the people brave enough to risk their lives to send the rest of the 10,000 home. His mind’s eye settled on the strange girl that had tumbled into the bar, demanding “the worst thing you have to offer.” She had been back a handful of times to check on him and his other products, but her initial demand had made quite the impression on him. He felt that befriending her would take a similar approach to befriending a feral cat. Lots of space and positive reinforcement. And probably whatever she considered a treat (that wasn’t wine).

He wished that he could do more to help her, and the rest of the frontlines, but his own level progression had stalled by the tenth floor. Caught between running a bar and treading water in a game with increasingly limited resources, Argent settled into his support role. Sad at the lack of combat, he refused to regret his decision regardless. He could help in other ways.

The front door jostled. “Sorry, we’re closed for the night.” Argent checked his clock. He’d never had someone try the door this late. In real life, he’d be worried about burglars, but Floor 22 was practically devoid of crime.

The door jostled again. “I know you can hear me! Come back tomorrow!” A pause, then the door jostled one more time, weaker than before. “Really—some people!—fine, I’m coming, I’m coming. Now what do you—” 

As he opened the door, a limp body fell into his arms. He recovered in time to catch the barely breathing figure. Acanthus pried one eye open to look at him. “I’m… sorry… to bother. You.”

Argent conducted a quick triage, sorting dangerous injuries from minor ones. One wrist hung limp in a painful direction. Her left leg swelled and stuck out at an awkward angle. Her hair was matted with dirt, and grime, and small tufts of black fur. Every inch of exposed flesh had been carved by some kind of small knife. Or claws?

“Acanthus, I’m sending you a party invite. I need to see your health and debuffs.” Acanthus’ eyes had closed again. He spoke firmly. “Acanthus. Accept the invite. Now.” Sleepily, she lifted her right wrist and cried out in pain. Gingerly, he helped her left hand up into position to accept the invite. Partied up, he began his second round of triage.

He had been trained to not respond physically when viewing injuries, but the list of debuffs made him audibly gasp.

<<Diseased - Rotfleisch>>
<<Diseased - Blackbleed>>
<<Deafened - Minor>>
<<Bleeding - Severe>>
<<Bleeding - Internal>>
<<Fungal Implant>>
<<Infection IV>>

....

The list continued. And her health bar! Even in the safe zone, it ticked down, point by point. The red sliver that remained was all that connected her to life. Argent needed to act fast.

“Hang on. You’re safe now. I’ve got a spare bed upstairs, and some emergency antidotes and probiotics. I don’t know how many of these debuffs I can First Aid or Purify, but we’ll find out. A few of the timers look like they’re about to run out, too. You’re going to be ok.”

“I…know.” Acanthus sighed. “I’ll be… fine. I c-c-ame by to report. I said I’d… I’d be in touch.” She fought Argent’s grip to stand up by herself, but Argent held her tightly. “Stop that. You’re still in shock. And even still, you’re barely moving.”

“No, I’m fine… I’m”

Acanthus blacked out, collapsing fully into Argent’s arms.

[Acanthus 0]

THREAD SUMMARY

Experience | [Word Count: 7960/10 = 796] * [True Tier: 8] * [Group Factor: 1] = 6368 * 1.1 (slime farm) = 7004 EXP
Col | 955 (Laurel Wreath) + 400 (Bonus) + NUM (Loot) = NUM Col
Mon | 1 Mon earned.

Edited yesterday at 03:52 AM by Acanthus