Redemption Arc

As Lucian walked down the stairs into the hall leading toward the Concord, he felt and heard a tremor rock the earth. It came from deeper within, and sounded quite familiar. He knew the words that followed after… and like clockwork, they echoed through the marble hall toward him.

“That sounded like it came from the Vault,” Christoph said, then paused for a while. “I’m not sure what this is, but I have a bad feeling. Stay here. I’ll check it out.”

After came the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he ran toward the noise. Lucian proceeded into the main hallway that led to the Concord’s grand hall. Above, there was a glass window looking up into the canal that showed the few fish that had the bravery to swim within it. He hurried his steps, feeling a bit paranoid that he’d be too late. Ahead of him, two grand doors stood wide open, leading to a huge circular chamber with a spiral staircase winding around the side. There was a tremendous mural depicting a battle on the floor—and in the very center stood a man with black hair.

Lucian passed through the door, walking toward the man quickly. The protagonist turned to look at him.

Looks like the default appearance for the protagonist, he reflected. If he looked like some of the characters I’ve made in War of Four, he’d have pink hair, green skin, and eyes popping out of his skull…

“Hey,” the protagonist greeted him. “Heard that noise?”

Lucian nodded. “Yeah, I think just about everyone did. You are?”

The man extended his hand politely. “Rowan,” he said.

He’s got the default name, too, Lucian noted, then reached his hand out and shook it. “Lucian.”

Rowan’s grip was firm, and Lucian studied him. He was a little bit shorter than Lucian, perhaps half a head. He had short dark hair, fair skin, and blue eyes on the lighter, brighter side. A lot of people just went with the default appearance because it was one of the better-looking characters in the game—after a while of playing War of Four, he was no exception.

Whereas Lucian was a character of awful aptitude, Rowan excelled at almost everything. He had above-average stat growth across the board, excellent aptitude for swords and fire magic, great affinities, and excellent starting stats. Few people wanted a weak main character to play with. Lucian started with most stats at or near 10—Rowan, by contrast, had most near 20. That divide was only going to grow.

Rowan’s smiling face morphed to one of abject surprise. “What…!” he shouted, then backpedaled, releasing the handshake. “Behind!”

Lucian turned around already knowing what he was going to see. A tremendous bipedal creature rose up from a sigil in front of the huge double doors that Lucian had just passed through. Its appearance overlapped perfectly with the cinematic cutscene that he remembered from the game. It was a fearsome-looking creature with skin as white as bone, fat covering its body, and fearsome horns and tusks. It rose as if floating upward through water, and when it was free the sigil faded. It came to stand to its full height—must’ve been twelve feet tall.

“An ogre,” Rowan said, his breathing panicked.

Lucian took a few steps back, watching it. He’d been preparing for this a long while, and now that the moment was here, was only barely able to keep himself from trembling. The ogre looked at them with dispassionate red eyes, then turned around toward the double doors. It grabbed the handles for both of them, and though the doors generally took two strong men to close, pulled it shut. Once those doors were shut, very little could get through. As the doors groaned, Rowan ran over to a decorative armor stand holding a sword and shield and retrieved both.

“Listen,” he said, running up. “My father, Christoph, is the Head Instructor for fire magic. He can kill this thing. He went off that way. I’ll stay and buy time, you—”

“Stay and what? Fight an ogre alone?” he interrupted. “That thing can move fast enough to catch us both, and you know it.”

Rowan didn’t respond as the ogre looked back. Its gaze flitted between the two of them. Lucian’s hand hovered near his satchel to grab the things he’d prepared, in case it acted differently from how it normally did. Instead… he felt some relief as it sat down cross-legged. It retrieved a bottle from its belt, then tossed it near them. It shattered, and from it sprung three putrid creatures—goblins. Two were green, but one was blue. They looked frenetic, drugged. The ogre rested its head on its hand and watched them just as it did in the War of Four. The goblins moved toward them with unnatural, jerky bounds.

“I’ve got some scrolls,” Lucian said. “I’ll deal with the blue one.”

“Got it,” Rowan said without arguing.

Lucian had done this fight enough to know the exact details of every single monster involved in this fight. There was a question that he had since he arrived here, and until now, he didn’t have a way to answer that.

The War of Four had five different difficulty modes: easy, normal, hard, very hard, and hardcore. Did this reality fall into one of those categories?

Difficulty in the War of Four wasn’t as simple as raising the opponent’s damage dealt and reducing the damage they received. That did exist in part, as on higher difficulties foes would have higher stats. On hard and above, however, enemies would have far nastier skills and abilities. Lucian had learned that lesson many times, largely by trial and error. Hardcore mode in particular gave enemies skills that forced every move to be carefully considered—not to mention it only allowed one save.

Maybe difficulty was a pointless distinction now that the game had become a reality. Things weren’t turn-based anymore, and Lucian didn’t have an omniscient view of the map. Whatever the case, he needed to get some inkling as to how powerful his opponents were. If the creatures he would face later had their hardcore abilities, things got a hell of a lot harder. Lucian was sure he could figure out which difficulty his new reality emulated in this fight.

Lucian pulled out two scrolls shining with golden light, and ripped the first.

Lucian felt his body consumed by a strange warmth. It was an incredibly natural instinct to point his hand toward the blue goblin and force this energy out from his hand to cast the scroll’s spell: Angel’s Arrow. A white bolt shot forth from his hand, and though the blue goblin tried to dodge, the arrow veered and slammed into him. Its body was consumed by white light that pulsed, and the goblin screamed in agony.

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Didn’t die in one hit from Angel’s Arrow, Lucian observed. If it dies on the second hit… that narrows the difficulty down to very hard, or hardcore. And if it doesn’t die at all, well… I think my plans are done for.

As Rowan confronted both of the green goblins at once, Lucian readied the second scroll. He ripped it once more, repositioning himself before throwing his hand out again. The arrow soared forth, tracking the goblin as it fled until it hit home. The spell’s violent light turned the blue goblin into dust, which scattered to nothing. A blue orb appeared from its body and flew toward Lucian. Though it felt like he should dodge, he didn’t. That was purified essence.

Lucian accepted the purified essence into himself. When demons or monsters had killed people, they would absorb part of their essence and corrupt it, strengthening themselves—so went the lore, anyway. In the game, killing certain monsters or demons would raise stats. That blue goblin always gave +1HP. Lucian could feel a strange sense of wellness, like a burst of happiness from within. It was almost as though he could feel someone’s gratitude for being freed—a disquieting, but not unwelcome, sensation.

Rowan, meanwhile, held his own. He bashed one goblin away with his shield, and then finished the one remaining behind with a quick one-two slash. It dissipated into dust, and so he turned to face the other as it regained its bearing. It got a running start and leapt toward him madly. He pulled his sword back far, and then put his full body into a thrust that speared it, breaking it apart instantly.

Those goblins have around the same stats as I do right now, Lucian thought. Is that how Rowan would handle me?

Rowan looked back at Lucian, and gave a nod as he stepped backward. The ogre sighed, then stood up quite gracefully despite its considerable mass. It rolled its head, and Lucian heard a great many cracks.

“…maybe we should’ve stalled longer,” Rowan said.

Lucian snorted. “I’ve still got a few powerful scrolls,” he said. “You seem beefier than me. If it reaches us…” he trailed off.

“Block?” Rowan finished. “I’ll do what I can, but… it’s a damn ogre, man.”

The ogre wasn’t an opponent that was meant to be beaten in the tutorial. Rowan’s father Christoph was supposed to show up at the last second and save the protagonist—all it was meant to do was demonstrate the power differences, create some tension, et cetera. Ordinarily, the player had no consumable items to use in this fight. However, in New Game Plus, they’d inherit their inventory from their old save. With that, it became possible to beat the ogre.

I’ve bought all I need, Lucian thought. Planned out the fight from beginning to end. The only thing that matters now is execution. And… whether or not it’s the ogre from hardcore or very hard.

Lucian already had some suspicions about which it probably was.

The ogre walked toward them in long, hurried strides, each footfall shaking the earth as it gained speed. Lucian reached into his satchel and retrieved a glass bottle. He pulled the cork out, tossing it away, and then rummaged once more to retrieve a scroll. When the ogre’s walk turned into a run, he emptied the contents of the bottle in its direction. A white mist spread out, and as the ogre ran through, it clung to its skin. When it was close enough to swing, Lucian tore the scroll and immediately projected its power forth.

A golden sword stabbed out, piercing the ogre right in the chest. It was launched off its feet, but caught the ground until it staggered back to slam against the door. As it was stunned, Lucian grabbed a pre-loaded crossbow. He’d actually shot a crossbow a few times, both on Earth and with the one he was holding, just to be sure he could. He was good enough not to miss such a large target. He aimed and fired, and the bolt whistled through the air until it struck the ogre.

The bolt bounced off the ogre’s body harmlessly, but the white mist clinging to its skin suddenly started to erupt violently into crystals of ice. Its movements slowed until they stopped altogether.

“Let’s back up,” Lucian said, pulling Rowan a few feet back while keeping his eyes trained forward.

If it’s hardcore… this ogre has the Rage ability. That allows it to break out of that status effect.

Right on time, the ice began to splinter and fragment as the ogre thrashed violently. It clawed at its body, tearing away the ice crystals. Its tusks and horns, once inert, now glowed red alongside tattoos on its body. Lucian put away the crossbow and reached back into his satchel as its maddened eyes turned toward them.

That confirmed it. This reality… it was definitely the hardcore difficulty version.

“Fitting,” Lucian muttered.

The ogre roared loudly, and then sprinted toward them as fast as it could. If it was on hardcore, that meant it also had the Fireball spell. The moment that he saw fire forming around its hand, Lucian knew which scroll to grab. He pulled it out, ripped it, then grabbed Rowan moments before casting the spell. A dome of ice erupted around them just as the Fireball surged forth and slammed against it. The ogre, utterly enraged, punched and kicked the dome of ice in a fury. Lucian could only smile, seeing that—while Rage was active, the ogre would only attack, even when it wasn’t prudent.

And this spell wasn’t solely defensive—it was called the Spiteful Iceshield.

Upon a final punch, the shield of ice exploded violently at the ogre, returning as much damage as it had received back at him. Its result were beyond even his expectations. The arm the ogre had been punching with exploded off, and half its face besides. Lucian ripped the next scroll—a dark element spell called Encore—and cast it forth. A fast-moving ball of darkness struck the ogre in the chest. The last attack that had hit it played once more: namely, that explosion of ice.

The ogre’s body exploded, and as it fell backward, began to dissipate into black dust. Six large purified essences manifested from its body—if it was true to the game, +2 to all stats. Lucian embraced them, feeling invigorated. Once more, that sense of gratitude for liberation filled him, far more intense than the first time. A haul like that was quite rare, and why Lucian had spent so much damn money getting all of these scrolls. He was broke, now, and he didn’t see any way to get more money quickly… but this was worth it.

Didn’t use all the scrolls, Lucian reflected, looking inside his satchel to see his last one. Was more cautious than I needed to be. Still… it worked. Always was good at planning things out, he reflected, feeling a surge of pride that he’d handled that so well. Now that he realized it was over, it hit him like a truck—his hands started shaking, and there was a wave of fatigue that fell over him.

“Rowan!”

Lucian turned his head to see Rowan’s father, Christoph, standing there. His eyes lingered on the corpse of the ogre, which was slowly dissipating.

Safe now, Lucian thought, breathing a sigh of relief.

But the objective of the attack… it was never Rowan. That ogre had been placed there to shut the doors to prevent reinforcements from coming, and nothing else. The demon’s real objective would undoubtedly be achieved by now. It was the start of the downward spiral to the conflict in the War of Four.

“Dad?” Rowan asked as Christoph ran over.

“Are you all right?” Christoph asked, scanning his son’s body urgently. “Are you injured?”

“No, I’m fine.” Rowan shook his head. “Dad, what in the world happened?”

Christoph glanced at Lucian, and then back to the hall he’d come from. “They…” he said quietly. “They destroyed the Treaty of Verne.”