The Fist Fighter’s mind raced at the implications of everything that was going on around him. He stood in the pitch black of The World that encompassed him, yet he and Alpha were visible as if light were shining upon them. It was a phenomenon that, if this were the real world, would have been frightening. Here in The World, it seemed as if the laws of physics held little sway over what actually happened, but it was, after all, just a game. The Programmers could do what they wished, deeming it merely “creative license”. The Fist Fighter tried not to think about what this game would be like if they didn’t take the time to do things like that. What a boring game it would be.

“So, where the hell are we?” His voice echoed in the darkness as he started to walk aimlessly in a straight line. He only made it a few steps before a hand grabbed hold of him. His head shot back to see the firm grip of the Twin Blade placed squarely on his jacket as red hair swayed atop a shaking head. Cent stopped his walking, turning to face his companion.

“I already told you, we’re in Meggido. Well, we’re at the gate more accurately. It’s a bit dark around here, and you really don’t want to wander off. You’re new, so I’ll teach you a trick. Not everything around here works as it was originally intended, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” The man appeared to dig around in his pockets for a moment, a motion that they both knew was completely unnecessary. Using something from your inventory was so simple in this game, but Alpha felt he had to add that little bit of realism to it. If his goal had been to make the Fist Fighter laugh, he succeeded. A chuckle was stifled, by both players, as he pulled out what he was “searching for”. A small golden orb sat in his hand, As the Fairy’s Orb activated, the colors of the field around them inverted, with the exception of one section that remained black. The Twin Blade smiled, beckoning for Cent to follow.

“There’s no guarantee that a player won’t stumble onto these Keywords by accident, so certain precautions have to be made to ensure that they don’t make it any deeper.” Alpha explained as they walked. A moment of silence hung in the air as Cent considered his next statement very carefully.

“What happens if someone not in the know uses a Fairy’s Orb?” The question hung awkwardly in the air for a moment as the Twin Blade seemed to consider all of the options. Cent felt a bit awkward now, having asked a question whose answer is most likely brutally obvious. A dagger spun in the hand of the man in front of Cent as he considered.

“You know, I never asked.” The Twin Blade shrugged in as simple a manner as possible. The silver-haired child fought back a laugh. It seemed such a lacking answer, yet it fit the situation all too well. They continued walking toward the One-Point, speaking nothing further. It seemed as if the Twin Blade preferred it that way, but something about it bothered Cent. Perhaps he spoke too much; he wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. The Fist Fighter put too much value in words these days. After all that had happened, Cent reminded himself, it wouldn’t hurt to put some trust in the actions of others. Sometimes people turned out all right.

As they walked through the, for lack of a better name, doorway in the room, they emerged in the Root Town of the Theta Server, Dun Loireag. The Highland City shone bright, the sun breaking through the clouds just enough for the players to be able to see Fort Ouph above. Gruntys roamed the streets, pestering players for one thing or another. The city was peaceful, the Weaver Guardian slept. It would have been something less spectacular, if the Fist Fighter had not just snuck into it through an apparent backdoor to escape players trying to trap him. The people that he had once trusted, considered a sort of family in The World, had just been ordered to take him out. Two of them were following the order, and one person, just one, took him to a safe place. Cent was speechless.

“That should keep you safe, for a little while at least. I would avoid the Delta Server for a while though. Your data signature should be masked by the transfer from Meggido for long enough for us to get you out of here. I’m going to be gone for a little while, but I’ll be back soon enough.” The Twin Blade could apparently read the frown on his face better than the Fist Fighter had expected. “Don’t worry about it, Beta. I’m coming back for you. I got you out of there. That makes you my responsibility. We’re not letting anything happen to you.” Alpha’s face wore an honest smile, and Cent couldn’t help but trust him. There was just something about the Twin Blade that the silver-haired boy couldn’t help but appreciate.

With a flash of three golden rings, Alpha left him alone in the city.

Dun Loireag was always quiet, a direct result of being the server for the slightly higher-leveled players. Where Mac Anu would be swarmed with new players, the Highland City played home to much less foot traffic and far more experienced players. The characters one could see while visiting all carried weapons that could slay the Delta players in a swing or two. Something else that the silver-haired boy was uncomfortable with was the sheer number of specialty class players hanging around. While it still wasn’t an outstanding number, he had only seen one other player on the Delta Server, and the Archer had been hunting a Heavy Blade at the time. Her face said it all when he had caught sight of it, and he knew a don’t-fuck-with-me stare when he saw one. Here in Dun Loireag, though, here he had just seen his first Whipmaster. The sights were fantastic, and it was easy for Cent to lose himself in observing all the characters gating in from the fields.

“Pull off your gloves for me?”

Alpha’s voice caught Centrus off guard. He had been watching the players gate in for what he now realized was fifteen minutes, and he had not noticed Alhpa among them. Regardless, he was happy that the Twin Blade could join him once more, though the tone of voice with which the man spoke was unsettling. Cent did his best to remain clam as he took his right glove in his left hand and yanked it off. The fingerless covering slid off easily, leaving behind what one might call his right hand. More accurately though, one might have commented on the lack of a right hand underneath.

“Shit. I really didn’t want him to be right. What the hell have you been getti... Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We need to move.” Cent’s eyes followed the path of the Twin Blade’s, taking special note of the group of three players that had just logged in. Each of them was dressed in the attire of the Pack, but whether or not they had been actually replaced by Teishoya couldn’t be determined at that moment. As uncertain as it was though, Cent didn’t feel like pushing his luck today. If memory served him correctly, less than an hour ago he had been the cause of an explosion of spells and skills in Mac Anu. Now, to top that off, these two men had appeared for some reason or another. The fact that all evidence pointed to him as that reason was more than a little depressing.

As Alpha took off running, the Fist Fighter did what he could to keep up. Had the two been on an even keel when it came to levels, Cent would have pulled ahead ever so slightly. The fact that Alpha kept an impressive lead on him said much about his character. The boy couldn’t even begin to guess at Alpha’s level, but he was far more comfortable with the thought of engaging the enemy with this information in hand. Good thing, too. an unheard part of his mind commented, Considering you are about to run headlong into some of them.

Two-pronged daggers were removed from hip-sheathes on the Twin Blade’s black pants. As red hair blew in the wind, a single blade tasted the first Pack Blood of the day. The playersurvived the blow, and kept moving toward the Fist Fighter. While the thought of fighting the system sounded great in his head, he knew that there would be repercussions. His character could be deleted, his account banned, and he could lose The World forever. Reminding himself that being caught would lead to the same thing, he decided that turning himself over was simply not an option. Sliding the Black Tonfa into his hands, he steeled himself for that was going to be one hell of a smash job. As the Long Arm approached, spear drawn, Cent sidestepped the thrust. Rotating the Tonfa in his hand for the added force, he smacked the man once in the stomach. As the man was caught off guard, Cent spun, giving the blow he was about to deliver to the man’s head added force. As the man fell, he took on a grey hue, and faded from sight. If that didn’t solidify that there was no going back to normal for the Fist Fighter, nothing would.

As they approached the backside of the Gate, the two other Pack players were lying in wait. Barking orders for player to remain outside the range at which one could activate it, the men remained vigilant. As Alpha and Cent approached, one could hardly assume the watchmen hadn’t noticed. Alpha muttered quickly, “Theta: Rotting Fated Messenger. I’ll handle the pricks at the Gate. Get there as fast as you can.” As the two men approached, a RaJuk Zot exploded beneath the two watchmen. Both were lifted from their post, only to be dropped a moment later by the ending of the spell. Cent managed to get within activation range of the Gate, but he didn’t leave before sending a GiRai Rom and a wink for assistance. Keywords were sought as blades were dodged, and before he could properly engage in the fight he gated out.

Theta: Rotting Fated Messenger was a flat field. Water poured down from above in what some might consider a downpour, but the Fist Fighter merely considered an inconvenience. Tucking his cape into his inventory, Cent admired the dedication to detail and realism that was the bundle of silver hair in his face. Raising his hand to his face, he slicked his hair back, accompanied by the sloshing sound any wet mass makes when moved. His jacket kept his torso dry, the long pants protected his legs, and his gloves... Well, he didn’t really have hands, did he? Where there had once been hands there was now a gaping absence in his data, so he had no need to worry about keeping those covered. He really didn’t know why he was so worried in the first place. It was a game, after all. It wasn’t like he was actually going to get sick from standing in the rain.

Whether or not there was merit to his argument, he knew he wanted to get out of the rain as fast as possible. His eyes did their best to take in what they could of the scenery, trying to locate the dungeon. The precipitation and distance combined to hamper his sight, but he did find something. The only thing he could find was, what appeared to be, from this distance, an altar in the middle of the rainy field. Finding no other landmark, he made his way for that. His trek was short and uneventful, the most memorable moment being when he recalled that his Thunder Magic book gave those two players a little extra “fuck you” in that GiRai Rom. His thoughts drifted to Alpha, whether or not reinforcements had arrived for those three. If they had, would there be enough to catch the Twin Blade? What level was Alpha? Had Cent ever figured that one out? It was obvious that he was of a high level, but the RaJuk Zot skill wasn’t available to most for some time. The man never ceased to amaze Cent, and, even lacking his presence, he was fondly thought of.

Jutting out from the stone surface of the altar was an axe. It was indeed a Heavy Axeman’s weapon, but no blood stained the blade or the table. Instead, what Centrus found upon examining the slab, all that was special about it was the multitude of animals carved into it. It was almost as if someone had tried to create a totem pole of the entire animal kingdom, then had given up. Some of the animals were still unfinished, as if the artist had just said “Screw this, I’m out of here.” right in the middle of their work. Leaving everything where it was, the Fist Fighter turned to face the direction from which he had come. Waiting for Alpha to arrive, he frowned. No one had arrived yet. He supposed he should be thankful that the other two hadn’t either, but for something weird like this he had always preferred to work in a team. Resolving himself to doing it alone, he stood on the altar. Scanning the surroundings, he had found the dungeon entrance.

A short, wet, jog later, and the boy had arrived at the stairs down into the cellar of a dungeon. He didn’t know what it was, but fields like these were going to be a big seller in coming day, he could just feel it. He chuckled at his own wittiness, descending down into what would most likely be his last day in this World.

However, in all honesty, he had gotten quite accustomed to saying things like that.

The first floor of the dungeon was met with initial disregard. The Fist Fighter hadn’t expected a whole hell of a lot after the bucket of crap that had been dumped on him today, but the field went and impressed him. A door blocked his way at the bottom of the stairs, barring his entrance into what he was sure would be a lack luster venture into the unknown. He approached it, not surprised to find that he couldn’t read the script that was carved into the obstacle. It seemed that things like this were fairly commonplace in The World. Centrus, make-shift leader of the Anima Mundi, was in no mood for doors that didn’t serve their purpose. Brass Knuckles slid into place, and a solid punch was centered on the door’s body. The metal, rusty as it did appear, held in place without so much as a wobble off of the frame. It might not have looked like it, but the thing was solid. Frustration sunk in.

Soaking wet fists connected with what should have been hit after knuckle-tearing hit. The zeroes and ones that separated him from the pain had never been so hated. There was something about experiencing the pain of moments like these that validates them. Rain still pouring down into the stairwell, the Fist Fighter began to scream. Obscenities loosed themselves first, but it devolved into something of a guttural yell by the end of it. His fists opened, Brass Knuckles falling to the ground, as his knees sank to rest beside the weapons. His hand slid down the door as he lowered himself down, with what could only be classified as light sobbing escaping from his lowered guard. He looked up, meaning to shout at the crying heavens, when the sight before his eyes halted his rage-filled plans.

The script, what Cent had taken for a clue for passage, had faded, leaving in their place simple block letters. He read aloud, voice still quiet and a bit meek as a side-effect of his momentary breakdown. “Theirs is the Kingdom, but yours is the Power. Instinct will carry, ending Will’s hour.” Lowering his head, he began his screaming once more. His hand slide its way down the door, coming to join the rest of his body, until it was caught on an object protruding from the previously flat door. Starburst eyes focused on a door handle that had appeared in the three seconds since he had looked away. Pushing his breath out with a shudder that shook his whole body, he took hold of the handle. Pulling himself up with it, he then put his weight behind moving the piece down. With a click, the door popped open.

The First Fighter stepped into what could only be called a scene from a wilderness book. Mountains sprawled around him, a stream off to his right, with forest surrounding him on all sides. He began to spin, trying to take in every inch of green, gray, blue and every shade between them that overlapped the natural beauty that he stood amongst. In his sweep, he caught sight of another door, dug into the side of the mountain. Its rusty brown stood out amidst the complex grays of the peak it was sunk into. The door stood as an obvious beacon, calling him to cross the river and inspect it. As he trudged through, he could begin to make out more script on the door, though there was far less written this time. Thankful for the sun in this new section, he forded the river, praying that everything he started with made it across with him. The water had been dried off of his pants before he had entered. Apparently a side-effect of the room, as his cape hand managed to escape from its stored location as well. As water soaked into the two articles of clothing, he chuckled a bit. Seems he wasn’t one to appreciate a moment of reprieve. As soon as the storm was gone, he found himself jumping right into the water. Perhaps he wasn’t as smart as he gave himself credit for.

The crossing was uneventful, and the trip from the river to the door even less so. The same rusty door and the same style of script as before were visible. His hand grazed the door, running over the script. It was as if he thought he could translate it by running his finger over the text, like a pencil. While this might not have been exactly what happened, the script shifted to English, as before. On it resided a single word, “Bear.” While he couldn’t begin to comprehend what that meant, what he did know is that...

His head met with rusty door with a noise that would have made Edgar Allen Poe cringe. Digital blood flowed from a wound in his head, running down his face, to his chest, eventually to the arm that was trying to push him up from the ground he had fallen to. As the roaring behind him cleared the fog in his mind, the meaning of the word on the door became quite clear. The creature that had just mauled him, the Fist Fighter noted as he turned, was indeed a grizzly bear. As the Brass Knuckles found their way onto his hands once more, the bear felt their presence in his jaw. The uppercut had apparently been unexpected, as the bear stumbled backwards and toppled over. The Fist Fighter took the moment he had to ask some questions.

To: Alpha
From: Beta
Subject: What the fuck?!
Care to tell me what’s going on here, man? I mean, I’m fighting a bear to the death at the moment. I think an explanation is in order. Expedience would be appreciated.

The response back was simple.
I’ll look into it.

Oh, that’s reassuring. His body was a rag doll once more as he realized the error of letting your guard down to answer mail. The bear had righted itself, barreling at him on all fours. What qualified as its big hairy shoulder connected with his stomach, throwing him against the mountainous backdrop. Pinned, the Fist Fighter did the only thing he could do, loosing a Rue Zot to force the bear off of him. Ice pillars were raised, separating the two and putting enough distance between them that Cent was able to repeat the bear’s tactic. Charging it, the Fist Fighter leapt, throwing a kick into the standing beast’s stomach. It moaned, stumbling back into the river before it fell over. Cent followed, doing his best to formulate a plan for the fight as he ran.

As the bear righted itself, his right hook connected with the bear’s noggin, throwing up the words “Critical Hit” as the animal yelled. A paw was swung, swiping the player’s body out from underneath him. Cent was thrown into the water, his whole body soaked through this time, and all he could do was laugh. This was his first real fight since his class change, and here he was attacking the animal on his own state’s flag. As ridiculous as it seemed, it was highly entertaining to him. A Repth was cast, eating away at more of the player’s Skill Points, but he had plenty left to go before he had to worry about anything. Well, anything except that bear.

As he righted himself in the water, he could only look on in horror as the beast charged him. Thinking quickly, he searched for a means of distract or redirecting the attack. The ground beneath his feet didn’t sit too securely, and trying to dodge in the resisting water would be dangerous. His training, albeit extensive, had not prepared him for fighting a bear in a river. Was this game even supposed to be equipped for it? The kinds of things that seemed to happen to the Fist Fighter when he logged into The World were not the things that he had expected, and, if everything worked out properly, the bear wouldn’t be expecting what was to happen next.

A leg came up. Sweet and simple, the move was intended to be a cheap shot, and a cheap shot it was. A low blow by every definition of the term, the bear doubled over, collapsing in the water. Cent lost his footing as well, leaving him splashing around in the river for a moment. Water flew everywhere as the duo thrashed, but only one of them collected themselves quickly enough to realize that they had a chance to escape. Ideas shooting through his mind like snowballs in a winter schoolyard, Cent made his preparations. He would run, he would run like no other, until he was far enough away from that thing to try to force his way out of the field.

It wasn’t until three rings descended and a voice echoed in the forest around them that the Fist Fighter knew he was safe. “Did you really just kick a bear in the testicles? I mean, c’mon! What if it had been a woman? Would you have survived that?” Along with his chiding, the Twin Blade above him offered a hand down to Cent. Graciously accepting, he was lifted to his feet. Both players cast a wayward glance at the bear before it was calmly reasoned that he was unlikely to stand up for a little while. “No point in killing it. Maybe we can sell it to the circus..” The chuckled, but moved on.

The door before them lie as still as the bear behind. Centrus pressed his hand against it once more, trying to will it open using some bizarre form of digital telekinesis. Finding that it was futile, he turned to Alpha and shrugged. Returning the gesture, the Twin Blade grabbed a hold of his daggers and smiled. Drawing them both, in one fluid motion, he managed to combine igniting the weapons and slashing them upward in an X pattern. Sheathing them before the flames were extinguished, he brought a leg up. Sensing what Alpha was going to do, Cent followed suit, kicking against the center of the slash.

The door shattered, leaving behind no trace that it had been there at all. Rather than pieces flying into the next room, each one disintegrated into a chain of characters and symbols as they distanced themselves from the frame. The light green characters cast an eerie glow on the stark gray walls of the room beyond, illuminating tanks of digital fluids sitting empty. Some were shattered, some were whole, but as the Fist Fighter stepped into the room, he knew he was not alone. Other than the Twin Blade at his side, the boy knew that the gigantic tank in front of him contained something of massive importance. What appeared to be locks sat on all sides of it, and the girl standing dutifully next to it cast a wary glance up as often as she could. She was standing at what appeared to be a data terminal connected to the tank, looking down at it whenever she wasn’t observing the contents of the tank.

The contents of the tank were... difficult to describe. What appeared to be half of a bird sat within, the stings of data unraveling from it as they had been from the fragments of the door. Although it appeared to be happening much slower than it had with the earlier obstruction, it was apparent that the creature held inside was deteriorating. A wing was missing, as well as half of its tail. The bird looked peaceful, despite all this. While the Fist Fighter couldn’t say for sure that the creature just didn’t feel pain, for this would have been the best answer, he figured it was likely that it was in peace due to the work of the pink-haired girl at the computer. The worried look on her face told him enough to know that this bird was of great importance to her, and that she would fight to keep it alive for as long as she could.

“Echo?” The word bounced off the walls of the room, something the Fist Fighter found quite fitting. Although it seemed a bit odd that Alpha would do something so pointless, Cent just looked around to see if anything changed as a result of his companion’s speaking. While nothing about the room shifted, per say, something did change. Rather than looking up at the tank, the woman before them turned their way.

Pink hair framed a classically beautiful face. Green eyes stared back at them, wide and innocent, carrying a hint of difficulty in them. A small smile stretched across her face as she took in the sight of the two men. A black shit covered her torso, as well as the top of her ankle length magenta skirt. She seemed to retreat into herself despite the apparent happiness for the company. Her small voice choked out a similar amount of words as the Twin Blade had. “Mr... Mr. Alpha?” The effect was, undeniably, adorable, and the looks on both men’s faces reflected that. Alpha bowed with a flourish, and the two continued their approach.

“Thank you so much for coming. I... I didn’t know how much longer he would last, and there aren’t really too many people one can call about this sort of thing.” The voice was once more what could be called tiny, lowering both men’s defenses just a little bit lower. The Twin Blade smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. He nodded his head, not offering much in the way of words, but even the Fist Fighter could see that the girl was calmed a bit. She turned her attention to Centrus for just a moment, whispering, “You didn’t kill the bear. Thank you.”

The silver-haired boy smiled. The man and woman before him muttered back and forth for a moment, pausing only briefly to look at the tank and back at the Fist Fighter. He shook his head, inadvertently loosing a few hairs from his already unkempt head. Blowing them out of his eyes, he moved closer as Alpha beckoned him near. Reaching into his pocket, the man removed something from his inventory. “Here. Take this.” Alpha tossed the sphere at him, and Cent reflexively caught it. It was small, maybe the size of an orange, and appeared to be rather smooth. He ran his hands across it, trying to take in every detail in the moment he had with the item. He smiled, preparing to tuck the item into his inventory until Al...

COMMUNICATION ERROR! COMMUNICATION ERROR!

The display on the FMD went black, save for those two words flashing on the screen. Removing the goggles, Ian tried frantically to get his computer to connect to The World. No matter what he tried, disconnecting cables, backdoor servers, everything, he couldn’t reconnect to the game. It was as if his character was still logged in without him there to control it. Centrus was inaccessible at the moment, and the man who was supposed to be playing him was not the one with access. Frustrated, he began scribing a letter to CC Corp before he remembered his label of “Cyber Terrorist.” Perhaps a formal complaint was not the best option.

Ten minutes later, a pinging from the computer alerted him to the presence of a new mail in the boy’s inbox. Seeing it was from Alpha, he opened it as quickly as his processor would allow. Hoping for answers, the child smiled at what he saw. Indeed, answers were given, and the implications of them were incredible.

To: Centrus
From: Alpha
Subject: Sorry ‘bout that.
We couldn’t be sure that you would willingly allow us to do what needed to be done, so I took some measures to ensure it. Your character data was falling apart as a result of the little explosion you encountered in your most recent outing. I believe your friend Matthias was going through the same thing, but his process has been similarly stopped through the manipulation of some of The World’s programs. What we also had, situation-wise, was the data of a very important investment falling apart. With two things such as these bearing a simple solution, we did what we had to do to prevent some losses.

Namely, we bound the data of that bird you saw in the tank with your own character data. While I can’t say for sure that cool shit will happen, I’d expect it. The guy who programmed that thing was pretty talented and more than a little pissed off that CC didn’t like his ideas. While this has prevented Teishoya from being able to track you via incomplete data scans, this does mean that you’re a hacked character. More than likely, CC’ll be on your ass about something new each day, especially if you’re walking around with this thing imbedded in you. I really wouldn’t worry too much, though. I’ll show you how to do some appearance hacking, if you want, to represent this change, but that’s totally up to you, bro. Good luck!

The excitement was almost too much to bear. Although he was still wanted, more so than before, now, he had also just gotten an upgrade in the “badassery” category. While he probably wouldn’t be dealing with too many SysAdmins, low level Knights might come looking for him. He couldn’t help but be elated with the potential fight experience that could offer. The prospect of learning how to do appearance hacks was also something he happened to be quite partial to. One never knew when that knowledge would come in handy. Taking a deep breath, he switched his FMD on. Sliding it over his face, he noted that the error message that had flashed the entire time it sat discarded had now vanished. Smiling, Ian entered The World once more.

As the quiet streets of Dun Loireag appeared before him, the Fist Fighter heaved a breath of relief. While nothing seemed all that different about his character, the fact that no Knights or members of The Pack were standing there waiting for him was a big plus. He let himself sink into the moment, relaxing in the calm city’s Chaos Gate plaza. Looking around, all he saw were parties of people gathering, preparing to go on adventures, to grow as players and as people. The thought itself was rather heart-warming. Cent was rather partial to the idealist way of thinking, and the thought of bettering yourself through working with others was just the kind of purple BS he loved. Fighting back a smile, he began to walk.

The Highland City was uneventful, something the boy felt he desperately needed at that moment. In the last two hours, he had rescued a damsel in distress, had The Pack turn on him, fought a bear... That last part still hadn’t been explained to him, but he was sure that Alpha would get to that. Speaking of the Twin Blade’s explanations, little had really been explained about what had been done to his character data. Alpha’s expectation of cool things had yet to come to fruition. In fact, absolutely nothing seemed different about Cent than when he had logged in the last time.

Remembering what the damage had been, the boy slipped one of his gloves off. Where once there had been a fragmented hand, entire sections missing where the glove had covered, sat a completed fist. No rough patches were visible, nor did anything look out of place. The only thing that seemed odd about the whole situation was that now, beneath where the glove usually sat, There was a storm cloud, with a single bolt of lightning descending, all encased in a circle. Every detail was inked in black, and was a stark contrast on his white digital skin. Shaking his head, he laughed at how high he had gotten his hopes up when Alpha had promised “cool shit.” His head turned skyward, still laughing.

He lingered in the clouds for just a moment. The white puffs that danced across the digital sky were as calming to him as they had always been. Part of his training that he had done was to empty himself, mentally, and become as light as those clouds. It was an essential part of learning how to dodge and react in battle, at least by his method, and he once more wished that he was truly as light as them so he might fly up there and dance amongst them. He knew, however, that it was not today’s goal. Today he needed to relax. Lowering his head, The Fighter walked back over to the plaza.

Would you look skyward for just a moment longer? The voice came from the speakers on his FMD, but the fact that he was the only one in the plaza gave few options as to where it could have come from. His game registered that he was in Whisper mode with a nearby user, but looking around let him know that the only one around, other than him, was the bird. He tilted his head up once again, taking in the beautiful skyline. Pulling his keycard from within his pocket, never once looking down, the Fist Fighter accessed the option that would take him to Alpha’s Training Grounds. As the golden rings descended to sweep him off, a muttered, Thanks, could be heard.

As the field before him materialized, he smiled at the notion of growth that seemed to be present in this location. The last time Centrus had been here, a day ago, evidence of freshly planted seeds was evident in the small garden that sat before the cliff-side dojo. Even now, a mere twenty-four hours later, small sprouts poked out from the soil. The Twin Blade that stood before them beamed with what could easily be called pride, watching them as a parent watches a child at the playground. As Cent’s boots connected with the rocky terrain, the shuffling of the pebbles undoubtedly alerted Alpha to his presence. The red-haired man turned, smiling at his friend’s approach.

The two shook hands as they met each other, laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of the gesture. Even though the two hadn’t really been all that close for more than the day, it seemed as if they had known each other for years. Alpha played a roll in his development in The Pack, to an extent, so that put them at knowing each of other for a few weeks at the most. The Fist Fighter shook his head at the progression of time in his life. Everything seemed to take so much longer than it actually did. Why couldn’t his perceived notion match reality, for once in his life? Shaking himself from his thoughts, he got down to the business at hand. Alpha had promised to teach.

Two hours later, Cent had learned about minor data manipulation. He learned which matrices affected how one’s eyes looked, one’s hands, one’s legs. He learned how to add fur, horns, wings, whatever one could desire to a player’s avatar. He learned how to make changes subtle, to not draw the attention of administrators who might be watching data alerts. He learned everything he would ever need to know about manipulation and a little bit more, though he couldn’t tell just what Alpha had in mind for him in teaching all of this. Curious, Centrus asked.

“Why don’t you ask him?” The inflection in the Twin Blade’s voice made Cent very aware of the likelihood that there was indeed someone else in the room. He thought about how foolish he had been, how everything made sense now. Alpha had helped him escape from the other Pack members so that he himself might turn in the Fist Fighter. It could only be Teishoya behind him, and he knew it. There was no point in running, only facing his fate, so he did what he had to and turned.

It was right about then that he felt extremely foolish. There was no one behind him, neither AI nor player. All that sat behind him was the rocky expanse of ground that he had traversed when he gated in. Who then had the Twin Blade been referring to? It took a moment, but the Fist Fighter remembered the recent addition to his character data. The bird had been so silent these last two hours that Centrus had forgotten about him entirely. He Whispered a quick “Sorry, man.”

“It’s okay. I understand. And why you’ll need all that? Well, I’ll explain when we get to know each other more.” The bird was cryptic, something the Fist Fighter was getting incredibly used to. It seemed that he gotten few, if any, straight answers in the last month or so. Perhaps it was part of life, something that Cent would have to come to terms with. Maybe, just maybe, some straight answers would come his way soon enough. Even if they didn’t, he had two people watching his back.

“So, where do we start?”

Centrus --> +1 Level - +Ice Dragon Fist