Veyra didn’t seem to be focused on the job, though. She glanced subtly at me, as if trying to say something. She hesitated.
Eventually, she said, “You better take the finals seriously, at least.”
“What, are you implying I’ll lose?” I asked, amused by her nervousness.
“I’m just saying that I did the math,” Veyra said. “At your four and a half thousand health pool, with no arcane and no demonic power resistance, Henrift’s ultimate will kill you in zero point seven-two seconds, and it’s undodgeable.”
“Yeah, if he hits the pulse, I’m dead,” I said. “But it’s still very much dodgeable with Shadow Dash, though.”
“No, not the pulse! I’m talking about the life-drain aura. That’s constant and undodgeable damage, and it will kill you in zero point seven-two seconds! If you go in with that gearset, you’ll simply just have no chance. Henrift has placed all of his points to his ultimate, so of course it’ll do damage.”
Wait, it does that much? I thought, actually surprised to hear those numbers. I had never seen Henrift in-game, but I’d seen him fight in clips. He used a skill called [Ascension Of Death], which essentially transformed him into a raid boss that dealt constant damage around him. I knew he did a lot, but 0.72 seconds was certainly more than expected.
I continued following the trail of dead monsters, and I said, “I was planning on grabbing some arcane and demonic resistance before the match.”
Veyra didn’t look convinced. Her eyes found the small charm pinned on my cloak, Charm Of Shadowfang. She stared at it, then let out an annoyed groan.
She summoned an item from her inventory. Grabbing my hand, she placed an amulet there and shoved my hand at my chest. “That’s an old amulet I happened to have in my stash. Please, at least borrow that. It should at least let you survive for five seconds.”
Amulet Of Devotion
Item Type: Rare
Required Character Level: 193
Stats:
-
+100 Demonic Power resistance
-
+100 Arcane resistance
Abilities:
Devoted Faith (Passive): Life draining effects are 15% less effective on the wearer.
“Oh, wow,” I said, grinning at her. “That’s actually perfect. Thanks!”
She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. I placed it into my inventory.
She blinked at that. “Aiden? I just gave you an amulet, no?”
“Yes?”
“So why are you still wearing that shadowfang charm!?”
“Well, it gives monster avoidance?” I said. “I don’t need arcane or demonic resistance out here against monsters, right? Traveling here is much safer with monster avoidance.”
Her deathstare continued.
“I'll put your charm on for the match, I promise,” I said with a laugh, when a flash of fire magic finally lit the air in the distance.
The guild wipe was here. We both focused on the job at hand.
Our target ended up being a high-mid tier PvE guild called Roman Resurgence. We wiped them out easily enough, followed soon after by another guild called Lambs Of God for a total profit of around three thousand gold split between us.
From there, we continued playing the game as normal, hunting in the Wilderness and killing whoever looked killable. Nothing crazy happened in the next two days, though the air between us felt a bit more awkward than usual.
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It wasn’t awkward, awkward, just a bit more quiet. We didn’t suddenly grow apart or anything like that. We still played for over ten hours together on the first day, sharing goodbye hugs and promising to log on early the next day, which we did, repeating the same thing until a forced log-out sent Veyra on a one-hour break, continuing then.
But less dumb jokes floated in the air with fewer teasing smiles. Overall, just less talking. I’d say we were both just nervous. I felt a constant sense of anticipation clouding our usual banter. I had the New York PvP thing to win in the upcoming days, which Veyra was nervous about for some reason, while I was nervous about whether Veyra would come to Worlds or not. I really hoped she would, but I didn’t want to pressure her further.
It was nerve wracking, really, but also amazing. I tried not to stare at Veyra when she was flustered, hiding her face in her robe and avoiding eye-contact, but she was just too pretty to look at.
That didn’t help with my nervousness at all.
Before the competition, a random drop gave one more interesting item for my build, however.
Lucky Dice Ring
Item Type: Rare
Required Character Level: 181
Stats:
-
+1 to all Luck based skills
Abilities:
Chance (Passive): All random chances are slightly amplified.
The ring was pretty much worthless, and many copies existed with players, but since [Cry Of The Abandoned Phoenix] and [Immortal Parry] both relied on lucky chances, it was worth including.
Soon enough, my schedule was broken to compete once again.
***
September ninth hit, and I found myself in a shopping mall before the competition.
Let me tell you, I did not like shopping malls one bit. White tile floor, white walls, and bright lights overhead—the only bit of personality in this place came from a candy stall in the middle, and a single candy bar there cost four dollars. That was the same price as a teleportation stone in game. Ahead of that ripoff, a drunken guy was stumbling into walls, while the foot traffic walked around as if nothing odd was happening.
New York, man. If aliens were asked to vote for which location was the AI experiment—New York city or The Ray Dragon event—they wouldn’t even need to see the subway before all votes would land on this god forsaken city.
Regardless, I had two things to do today. First, I found a barbershop to get my hair nice and to shave while I was at it, though both services turned out to be complete scams. I barely cut any hair, since I preferred it long anyway, and I could have shaved by myself just as easily. Really, the barbershop guys just shaved me in five minutes and applied some conditioner to my hair, and charged me sixty dollars for that.
Goddamned New York city.
My next destination was the clothes store. Following my sister’s advice, I went in to buy a new outfit to show in the livestream.
Fifteen minutes later, I exited with new black jeans and a black zip-up hoodie, which I kept open to show a T-shirt underneath—also black, but that one had a cool white frog print on it. The moment I spotted the shirt on display, I knew I had to buy it.
Outside, Anna and Mom waited at the parking lot. My sister pouted at me. “Aiden? What is that?”
I grinned, showing the frog shirt.
She furrowed her brows and read the text on the print out loud. “‘It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about frog.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Frog,” I said. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”
Anna pouted. My mom smiled, however. “You look great. It fits you well.”
I agreed. It wasn’t anything fancy, but those weren’t my style. Wearing anything that wasn’t a hoodie would just feel wrong. Anna was free to disagree. We drove to the competition.
The arena, including the parking lot, was much more cramped this time. Mom and Anna had to drop me off while they searched for a spot, and I was left to survive in the crowd. I put my hood up, hoping to avoid being recognized. Luckily, the lines were protected from the media crew for now.
I checked in and was let into the warm-up room. The air was a little more tense today. Everything had more security, and the announcer’s microphone behind the arena was much louder.
A good chunk of the players were off in private side rooms speaking to their coaches or taking interviews. I wasn’t a part of any organization, so I kind of just hung out in the warm-up room, waiting for my turn. I asked if I needed to do something before my matches, but no, I had registered and that was it. I was just given a time at which my turn would come, and I was told to warm up however I wished, and to remember to equip the correct items before my match.
Worlds would be more complex, I figured. This competition was still just New York’s local PvP tourney with a relatively small prize pool of ten thousand dollars.
Either way, I checked the brackets today, and I noted two things. Henrift wouldn’t be fighting me until the finals, and my first opponent today was Sullivan. Great.
The bulky barbarian player walked up to me five minutes before our match. He didn’t attack or try to grab me. He just gave his usual threatening scowl and said, “Finally, I have a right to beat you up.”
“Good luck,” was all I said, barely even looking in his direction. Eve was also eyeing me from the side.
I scrolled memes for the last five minutes, until two event organizers walked to the warmup room calling our names. One of them led me to a security checkup, where a bulky man, fit for a bouncer at a club, patted me down, presumably to check whether I had some USB cheat stick in my pockets or something along those lines.
“New outfit, eh?” he asked, smelling my clothes.
“Yep,” I said. “Frog.”
“I’ll make sure to watch this one,” he said. “Your dad is John Miller, correct?”
“Yes?” I said, tilting my head.
“I met him at a bar once. He’s a good dude, and right there in the audience.”
He pointed at the front row seats, where I spotted my family, as well a large bunch of middle-aged guys that I recognized as my dad’s work buddies. Uncle Ricky was there as well with a few more cousins I vaguely recognized. They didn’t see me behind the curtains yet, and the arena was still dark and silent, the ads having stopped a minute ago, as if we were preparing for a concert.
“Aiden, Assassin, are you ready?” the organizers asked.
“Yep.”
He nodded, pressing a button.
Soon after, the announcer’s rumbling voice echoed. “Best of three, one versus one, single elimination knockout, we present to you, Aiden ‘Assassin’ Miller versus Simon ‘Sullivan’ Scott!”
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