It was the afternoon, one day before the dungeon break was set to begin. Zenos stood alone in the birch-wood valley. There was an automaton at his feet, laid out with its arms and legs parallel to its dented torso. One of its legs had been cut from the hip, and both its arms had been severed. Zenos had picked through a pile to find its missing limbs. It was like finishing a jigsaw puzzle.
This looks right, he thought. Probably.
After the body was assembled, he worked his hands under a wet mulch of birch leaves and covered the bronze corpse. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and panted quietly. That was his twenty-fifth burial.
Zenos took a sip from his water canteen.
A few more to go.
The automatons were heavy. He dragged them however he could, by the lip of their chest cavity or their limbs if they had any. They were moved to the foot of a birch tree where Zenos had prepared shallow depressions for their final rest. His hands were cold and black with mud, but if he kept a good pace, he could finish before sunset.
Another set of limbs gathered, set, and covered. Zenos sipped from his water canteen and dropped against a birch trunk. He sat exhausted among the leaves. His head knocked back against the wood as he stared up through its branches. The sky was gray.
Almost done, he thought.
The automatons weren’t humans, they were machines, so the effort to bury them would have looked strange to an outsider. Even if their core gems contained spirits of the dead, those gems had already been removed. What remained were just parts, valuable only for their mithril.
But it’s because they’re machines. Zenos took a deep draft from his canteen. That’s why I have to do this.
He stood, latched the canteen to his belt, and returned to work.
Living a non-life, where your actions are predetermined, and your freedom is limited by your creator, he thought. That’s precisely what an NPC is. Even after they escaped the dungeon, they were shackled by the instructions of their master; stay, wait, harvest, deposit. If they were attacked, they must defend themselves. Clearly, they could not commit suicide. Their instructions must have prevented them from fully realizing themselves, but they had some insight, didn’t they? They must have known something.
I was the same.
After he buried the last automaton, Zenos moved to the hillside and surveyed the valley. All throughout were shallow mounds of leaves and dirt, packed carefully and placed in such a way that the wind would not easily disturb their rest.
Zenos clapped his hands and closed his eyes. He offered his condolences in the Demon way; it was analogous to a prayer in a world with gods.
“You served your masters, your family, and your friends honorably,” he said quietly. “You did all anyone could have asked and more. You satisfied your purpose. Now rest.”
Zenos clapped again. He made a long look across the valley.
I was the same, he thought and turned toward the trail. But I have changed.
Haven’t I?
The sun kissed the horizon, the sky turned colors, and Zenos finally returned to the campsite. There was a lovely smell in the air, of spices and caramelized onions. Mad tossed vegetables on his spatula and stirred the pan that sat on the grill.
“What’s for supper?” Zenos asked.
Mad smiled. “A vegetable medley,” he answered. “We’re out of meat, so I’m doing the best I can with what we have.”
Zenos sat on a tree stump by the firepit. The pan was colored in red and orange peppers, brown onions and mushrooms from the forest, and a green sauce. It smelled spicy.
“I finished burying the automatons,” he said and unbuttoned his coat. He felt hot, and even worse beside the fire.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Mad said.
“But you’re glad I did,” Zenos added.
Mad smiled again and nodded.
“Tomorrow is the dungeon break, isn’t it?” Zenos asked.
“That’s right,” he said and left his steel spatula in the pan. He straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. “It’ll be a long day, that’s for certain.”
“No celebration this time, I see.”
Mad chuckled. “I would hope not. The islanders better have left this time.”
“Lowether didn’t,” Zenos said. “There were probably others that stayed, too.”
Mad rubbed his palm into his head. “It told him to leave so many times,” he said. “He just wouldn’t budge.”
“But this island is his home, isn’t it?”
“You can make a home anywhere, but you only get one life,” he said and picked up his spatula. He set about stirring again. “I’m proof of that.”
“Sometimes you get two,” Zenos said.
“But you still lose something,” Mad said, looked him in the eye. “Isn’t that right?”
Zenos frowned, but nodded.
“That’s right,” Mad said. “Everyone loses something when they die. Usually that’s just your life, but even if you were to get that back, by the blessing of the gods or otherwise, you’ll still be missing things you can’t replace; family, friends, or good company. But a home? You can get that anywhere.
“That’s why I urged him to leave.”
“We’re going to win, aren’t we?” Zenos asked.
They shared a look between them, and though they sat close together, they seemed far apart.
“You still think so?”
Zenos nodded. “That’s right.”
“Without the black ocean, I’m not so confident,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I’ll give up. Let’s just… keep our expectations low.”
“The other day you said my quest reward would take a little longer than you thought,” Zenos said. “So, if it’s not ready now, then that means you lied to me, or you’re going to finish it after the raid.”
Mad blinked at him.
“We’re going to win, Mad,” Zenos said.
Mad breathed hard through his nose. A slight smile appeared on his face. “When you put it like that, I don’t want to be a liar.”
The food was finished and Zenos took his dish of pan-fried vegetables. Mad opened his backpack and pull from a pocket one bottle of whisky. Tins were poured, cups were clinked, and they feasted—in their own way—beneath the stars.
Late at night, after the firepit was cold, they sat atop a roof in the ruins around their camp. They looked out into the black, their eyes well-adjusted, such that they saw the moonlight glisten on the sea.
“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Zenos asked, a little tipsy.
“A few days ago,” Mad said, tin cup rested in his lap. “I think so, anyway.”
“Happy birthday,” Zenos said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
Mad laughed. “When you make it to the mainland and become a big shot adamantine adventurer, you can treat me to something in Atheria,” he said.
“Is it expensive there?”
“It’s the worst,” Mad said and finished his tin in one draft. “The street vendors are pretty cheap, but that’s working-class food. When you get to adamantine, restaurateurs will be lining up to get you to eat in the ritzy up-town. At that point you’re like a celebrity.”
“You really think I could do that?” Zenos asked. “Be adamantine?”
“I think so,” he said. “I mean, you have some gifts even the adamantine don’t have. If you trained, you might even surpass Herakles.”
Zenos leaned back, turned his head up to look at the stars that shined bright above. There was a cosmos overhead; the streak of purple, red, and gold, like a wound in space, was the glow of a distant universe.
If this weren’t a game, I wonder… where I could go.
Mad tipped toward the edge of the roof, but he regained his balance. “Whoops,” he uttered. “I’m getting a little lightheaded.”
“Is it time for bed?”
“It’ll be an early morning tomorrow,” Mad said. “Don’t sleep in.”
Zenos nodded and the pair descended from the roof. They made for their tents and Zenos waved his goodbye. He climbed into his bedroll and turned snug beneath the cover.
The player system activated in a blue light before his eyes. He checked his character screen.
Four spare levels, one weapon, my eyes, and this system. That’s all I have, but it’ll be enough. I’m not trapped in my forest; I’m not chained anymore. I have the power to change everything. This fate that Mad is expecting, the day he thinks will be his end—
I’ll break it!
