Chapter 10

AdRecs are a popular form of visual media entertainment. These are live recorded field encounters made by and following Adventurers. These videos are a cross between reality TV and action-adventure entertainment. They can range in genre from reality crime mysteries where real adventurers hunt down murders and the like to action-packed monster hunts and everything between the two. But in the adventuring field, death is common. Any AdRecs that catch a legitimate Adventurer's death are slapped with a warning before being heavily modified and censored if they are ever released, and many won’t be released. Illegal AdRecs that are released without legal permission are called Black Adventure Recordings or BAdRecs. These BAdRecs commonly show Adventurer deaths and normally in only the most direct and vivid display to the viewer.

I spent my week off crafting a few different projects. My primary focus for the week was a pair of Panner brand running shoes. The project name I was working with was LeaGri combat-ready footwear. The current device model at the time that was successful in testing, I was calling my Pacer shoes, or simply Pacers. On the following Quenchenday, my last day off to recuperate, I wore my jet-black Pacers as I made my way to the DEFAC to meet Nel and Ferris for lunch. That day was the day I was going to ask the question that had been bugging me for over a week.

I took my seat at our normal table, armed with a turkey and swiss sandwich, a bag of poorly flavored cheese powder corn chips, and a glass of watered-down juice. Nel and Ferris were already seated and having a heated debate over something about an AdRec that had just been released.

“Did you see how she went down?” Ferris exclaimed to Nel, who looked uncomfortable. “I can’t believe she slipped.”

“I can’t believe you showed that to me, Fer’. That was just wrong.” Nennel sounded a little nauseated, and I doubted it was from the food.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I took my seat.

Nennel turned to me with an expression that looked tired, pleading, and disturbed. “Ferris found a viral video on the net that should not have been on the net.”
Ferris turned to me with a look of giddy excitement. “It’s this AdRec I found. The party it follows, I’ve been a huge fan of for months. They are called Raiders of the Final Age. They stopped posting AdRecs after one of their members died under mysterious conditions. Some hacker released a BAdRec of how Serah Ghost Step died.”

“Oh?” I asked, partly distracted, as I took a bite out of my sandwich.

“Dude!” Ferris exclaimed. “She was a legend for her mobility. One of the best Rogues to make it into AdRecs in years. She was in a brutal fight with her party against a sheerfang spider. She made a move to slide under its body and between its legs. But her momentum stalled right under the spider’s head, and she got cut in two, as easily as scissors through paper. Man, it was brutal.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I said, stunned at the news. “Someone released a BAdRec of an Adventurer death? How could that get past all the censorship?”

“I don’t know.” Ferris said with vibrating enthusiasm. “But it’s sweeping the net of Ventic. It is the next hot new vid.”

I stared at my food, chewing the inside of my cheek. My appetite vanished. “How can you be excited about this?” I asked numbly.

“What do you mean?” Ferris asked. “Everyone is watching this, and one of my favorite parties is getting insanely popular.”

My gaze snapped from my sandwich to Ferris. My stare was frigged and cutting sharp. “Don’t you dare get excited over this.” I hissed.

“What?” was all Ferris managed to say in his shock.

“Ferris.” I started coldly. “You are getting excited over the death of another sapient being. A woman that you admired got cut in half, and you seem happy. Do you have any idea just how wrong that is? That could be one of us someday. Would you be so happy if Nennel was the one to die?”

Ferris’s face fell. “No. I guess not.”

“I don’t know what you were taught growing up, but I was taught that all life is priceless. I was also taught that the act of taking a life is sacred and should never be done with joy.”

“I-” Ferris started but stopped. After a few seconds, he simply answered with, “Yeah, you’re right. I was caught up with the rush of social media and lost track of things.”

“Let’s change topics to something more relevant to us.” I said in a forcefully light tone.

“What are you thinking about?” Nel asked.

My gaze fell back to my food as I took a deep breath. “So, you two know that Navor is taking me to Grimvale soon for a training mission, right?”

“Yeah. So what?” Ferris asked.

“Are you two… okay… coming with me?”

There was a long period of silence that forced me to look up. I found Nel and Ferris both looking at me in annoyance.

“You’re joking.” Nel stated in a deadpan voice.

My gaze shot down to my lap as I hurriedly said, “Sorry to bother you guys. I figured you wouldn’t want to go. Just forget I said anything.”

“What?” Ferris asked in confusion. “No, Horn-head. We were planning on joining you from the get-go. That’s the whole reason Master Navor gave Nel and me extra training over break.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief, my timid eyes slowly lifting from my lap to look at the other two.

“Yes, Gears-for-brains.” Nel scolded. “She offered us spots in the expedition before we even packed to leave for break. When we both said yes, Master Navor took us to a mountain retreat lodge where she drilled us like we were about to storm the shores of Lacia.”

“We said that we were sticking with you, Ives’, and we meant it.” came Ferris.

“Really?” I repeated in shock.

“We couldn’t help you against your schizy uncle when you really needed us.” Ferris growled, his sharp teeth gnashing at the thought.

“So we made a promise to each other and ourselves that we would stick with you no matter where you went.” Nel said as she stood and stepped around the table to punch me playfully in the shoulder. “We both know that you have all the social grace of a Whithered and are more than likely going to make more than a few enemies along the way. So we’re sticking with you for as long as we can to keep you breathing.”

“Are you two sure?” I asked nervously. “I don’t want to make you guys babysit me and waste your time.”

Nel slapped me across the back of the head lightly. “Don’t be a troll-dung moron. You don’t waste our time, twitwind. You’re our friend. We pull your ass from the Dragon’s fire so you can do the same for us when things get out of hand.”

“Besides,” Ferris said as he stepped to my other side. “If you wanted to leave us behind, you lost your chance.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Master Navor already slotted up our party.” Ferris pointed from me to himself, the Nel. “It’s you, me, Nel, and four others.”

“What? It’s not just the three of us?” I asked in aggravation. I was not good with people, and I was not looking forward to four strangers pushing me around.

“The Master told us not to tell you about the setup and to wait till you broached the topic.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I groused as I looked back at my barely touched food. “Why would she tell you to do that?”

Nel flashed me an amused smile. “She said that she wanted you to see what it costs if you wait too long to take action.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped defensively.

Ferris gave me a knowing and amused look. “I think what she’s getting at is if you had brought it up sooner, we could have talked it over and had some input on choosing the other four members.”

I could feel my left eye spasming in agitation. “You’re saying… that I could have chosen the other four members of the party… if I had grown a pair… and spoken up.” I could feel pressure building as my anger ramped up. I couldn’t help but think that I was about to go through months of torment from strangers in a dangerous environment. If Navor picked the party balance, I was likely to be the only combat equipment technician in the group. I was going to be worked like a slave, pumping out equipment on their whims. I also expected plenty of impossible equipment demands. I, no doubt, would be stuck with the bills for all the material.

I wanted to blame Navor for this whole situation. She orchestrated it all and, likely, was going to put me through the Nine Hells to test my mettle. I really, really wanted to hate her. I wanted to think of her as just the next Thallos. But she hadn’t steered me wrong yet. Then again, Thallos seemed reasonable, if harsh, in the beginning.

“Uh, Ives’. Are you okay?” Ferris asked with worry in his voice.

“I think he’s about to blow a gasket.” Nel replied in a perfectly level tone. “Iver, you need to calm down. It’s not that big a deal. We can work with anyone we’re stuck with, and we’ll watch your back.” Nennel tried to pacify me, and her words almost reached me, but there was a block.

I couldn’t help but see Navor as the new Thallos. I couldn’t help but mentally see her putting me through the same trauma and horrors as that bastard. My fists clenched with a white knuckle grip in my building rage. I was not willing to go through that again. I would not be pushed around and abused. This year would not be like the last.

In a flash, I noticed the metal of my tactical gauntlet. In a burst of inspiration, I bit down on my cheek and slashed a claw from Venna across my brow, between my left horn and eyebrow. The pain cleared my mind, and I pushed a bit of will into the freshly welling blood. At the point of the cut, the blood evaporated into red-black smoke. As the one Vell of Distortion Myst cool effect, I closed my eyes, took another deep breath, and willed my mind to calm down and stop spiraling.

“Dude!” Ferris hissed at me in panic. “What in the Hells do you think you're doing?! Just randomly cutting yourself is not a good thing.”

Nennel looked to Ferris. “I think I know what he did. Iver just forced himself to calm down with magic.” She turned back to me and asked, “Better?” with her arms folded over her chest.

“Yeah.” I replied with a long sigh.

At this response, Nel gave me a weighty eye roll before turning away with a muttered “Mr. Melodramatic.” Just loud enough for me to hear.

“You okay?” asked Ferris with a worried look at me. “You looked like you were about to go Eldritch meltdown on us. I was expecting you to go ballistic.”

I took another deep breath, letting it out slowly, all with motions with both hands that mimicked breathing in and exhaling it. “This was a lesson I needed to learn. Don’t get me wrong, I completely hate the iron goat of a woman. But I need to keep in mind that if Thallos was teaching me this lesson, he would’ve added three assassins to the party that he would’ve paid off to try to kill me at random moments during the mission. Navor shouldn’t be that malicious towards me… Well, not unless Mallrimor is her darling son.”

“You do have a point there, dude.” Ferris admitted with a tilt of his head.

“So, what’s next?” I asked.

“What’s next is you all get your asses to Aegis Hall and meet me at sublevel 44. Be sure to bring your shit.” Navor commanded over the call through my therra, and what looked to be Nennel’s and Ferris’s therras as well. I eyed both Nel and Ferris for a few seconds, expecting one of them to own up to messaging the Master during the talk. But neither of them said a word. In fact, they both looked just as shocked as I was.

After another moment, the three of us looked at each other before we all gave a single confirming nod. As one, we all bolted for the dorms, our food forgotten. My new modifications made me faster than the other two by another order of magnitude, but I was still adjusting to the new body. I stumbled and tripped no less than four times on my way back to my dorm room.

I didn’t spare a second, wrenching out my packing bags and stuffing them full of civilian clothes, my weapons, and my hygiene needs. As I was pulling out my bags, I found three extra luggage bags that were not mine. Attached to the topmost navy blue bag was a short paper note.

Iver,

You’re going to want to pack tools and recourses for the days ahead. Don’t worry about food and travel needs. I have that covered. You should also keep in mind that you can buy anything you need while in Grimvale. But bring what you deem crucial or will be hard to find in local shops.

Think carefully,

Master Terra Navor

I found myself pleasantly surprised by the Master at that moment. This was a very thoughtful and generous act. Especially compared to Thallos. He likely would have drugged me and dropped in on the road, buck naked and totally lost, with a note stapled to my forehead telling me to reach the city with what I had.

I did as I was instructed. After personal needs and weapons were packed, I set about packing all of my tools, those that the academy provided, as well as plenty that I had bought myself while on break. That took up a bag and a half, and I used the remaining bag and a half to stash a range of components and materials that I would need for almost any job, as well as some specific bits I was going to use for a few special projects.

I wound up leaving my room with five bags in a mad dash to get to Master Navor as soon as I could. I left the dorms only to find Ferris ahead of me, in the same position, only two bags less than me. But past Ferris was Nennel, running with six bags like she was being chased by a nightmarish demon. All three of us were fit and able to handle the strain. But I had been put through far worse than Ferris. And combine that factor with my recent enhancements, I outpaced him in a matter of moments. Nel and I were soon enough neck and neck as we reached Aegis Hall’s front doors. I passed her as I took the corners in the halls much easier than her. Even as I lost sight of Nennel, I made a mental note to improve her legs whenever I could get a spare moment.

I slid to a stop in front of the hidden elevators, sweeping my B.I.C over the scanner even as I passed the elevator and needed to backpedal a few steps. While I waited for the doors to open, I took my time breathing. Nel reached me only moments after I came to a stop. She slid farther than I had when she tried to come to a stop, circling around to me as she panted heaving breaths. Just as I was starting to breathe normally, Ferris rounded the corner. His stop was cleaner than Nennel’s because he wasn’t nearly as fast.

“Damn it, guys.” He complained between heaving breaths. “You couldn’t have waited for me?”

“We’re on a clock, Fer’.” Nel wheezed. “You need to keep up.”

“Aren’t Elves supposed to be fast?” I asked in an amused confrontation. “Especially Wild Elves.”

“That’s both xenist and racist.” Ferris accused between gasps.

“Oh, don’t complain, Ferris.” Nennel scolded, finally breathing normally. “You’re only carrying three bags.”

“What is even in those extra bags?” Ferris asked.

I looked down as I lifted up the two bags in my left hand. “Mine are tools and materials for crafting.”

“Okay. That makes sense.” Ferris admitted. We both turned to Nennel to hear her answer. “What about you, Nel?”

Nennel made eye contact with Ferris, then me, before looking away. “Books and some knitting.” She tried to sound nonchalant in her answer, but it only got a snort out of me. “Hey! Don’t judge me.” Her tone turned both scolding and embarrassed.

“Book?” came Ferris, obviously trying to hold back a cackle. “Really? You need an entire bag of books?”

“It’s two bags. And I’m a fast reader.” She muttered. “So hang me.”

“No, no. I get the book thing.” I said with a mirthful grin. “But, knitting? You really knit?”

“And crochet.” She admitted, completely bashful at the admittance.

“I gotta say, I never saw that coming.” I admitted with a wide grin.

“What’s wrong with it?” Nel snapped at the two of us.

It was at this point that the elevator doors opened. As we all formed a line to step inside the mirrored box, I looked down at her with the same amused grin. “Nel, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the hobby. I just never saw that coming.”

She eyed me with wary annoyance. “Really?”

“Hells, I might buy a hat and socks off you when you get good enough. I might even start commissioning knit plushies.”

I would never admit it to her, but it was satisfying seeing my nervous fear of rejection mirrored on someone else and for me to turn those tables and make her feel better. It felt good to be supportive of Nel when she felt insecure.

After that, talk was sparse in the tight space. We all felt nervous meeting the new teammates. How would they take our rag-tag group? A Quint Elf, a Human girl who was more mech than meat, and a Darkling with a strange skin pattern. Our odds of being accepted as equals were not looking too high, and I will freely admit that I was scared in that moment.

The elevator car slowed to a halt at sublevel 44, and the doors slid open with a bell chime that sounded despondent to me. We all left the car in a close-knit group. The three of us examined the room for threats even as we took in the others in the space.

The room in question looked to be about thirty feet by thirty feet, with three teleportation stations running in a row down the center of the space. Mounted to the back wall on either side of the teleportation stations were holo displays that listed arrival and departure times for groups. Each of these groups were listed by what seemed to be random names. Just from a glance, I saw group names that ranged from Gilded Rose to Blood Raven and everything in between. Lining the walls of the room to our left and right were what looked to be some form of locker system with massive spaces. Near these lockers were groups of tables and seats that were obviously for last-minute perpetration.

The group of people we were looking for were the only ones occupying the room at the moment. Four figures sat in chairs, and a fifth sat atop a table just to our left. Atop the table, in a lax stance and showing little more than boredom, was Mystagogue Terra Navor. She was an old war-horse of a Human woman. Her salt and pepper hair was cut short in a mussed pixie cut. The hair at her temples was a pale silver that faded the further from the temples the hair got. Her skin was a red-tan and openly showed the weathering of age and hard times, recent and long since passed. Her right eye was coffee brown, while her left was milky with scar tissue and a silver pupil. There was a clean notch carved from the right side of her upper lip that put her in a perpetual sneer. Navor stood a head taller than me with my embarrassing 5 foot 7 height.

On that day, she was dressed in black leather pants, a mustard yellow t-shirt marked an artistic design, a high-cut leather jacket, and black combat boots. As we drew closer, I noticed that both her jacket and pants were reinforced with some form of thin plating at key points, such as forearms, shins, and thighs, and also padded at the knees and elbows. I also recognized the design on her shirt to be a copy of the famous Age of Steel’s Grasp painting known as The Dagger that Falls to the Leaf.

In the seats surrounding the Master was a female Dezzar Dracose, a dark-skinned and light-haired Human boy, a female Half-Elf, and I was shocked to find S18 in the group. S18 was a Half-Dwarf that had the position just ahead of me in the breaker formation last year. I would know that bald head anywhere.

The Dracose girl stood at the titanic height of almost six-and-a-half feet. Her scale color was a deep ruby red with stripes of sapphire blue that matched her eyes. Her horns grow from her brow and swooped down to run parallel with her jaw. She was dressed in a pair of weathered jeans and a royal purple tank top that read ‘Look me in the eye when you want to start a fight.’ in blocky black letters. She wore no shoes because her breed of Dracose had widespread and clawed feet. She also wore a pair of armored gauntlets made from what looked to me to be Luminite and Mythril. That meant that she was a Fury class Mage. I made sure to take careful note of that fact.

The Human boy was an obvious lady magnet. His skin was a deep mocha brown that provided a dramatic contrast to his silver-white hair worn in a high-base tail and his pale eyes that carried only the slightest hint of the colors blue and green. He was dressed in dark gray pressed slacks with a matching suit jacket worn open over a plain navy blue t-shirt. His shoes were business casual, but freshly polished. I instantly did not like the guy as he sat there, looking like someone waiting for a business meeting that was running late.

The Half-Elf girl had the telltale powder blue skin and silver irises of a Moon Elf with purple sclera. But her ink-black hair, worn in a limp mohawk, and only slightly pointed ears displayed that she was a Half-Elf. She was dressed as a classic punk. A black latex short skirt, a bleached denim jacket with sleeves ripped off and covered in a range of pins, a black t-shirt marked with a famous metal band emblem, and thick-soled leather biker boots that climbed up to just past her knees. She looked annoyed and bored, but little more.

S18 was tall for a Dwarf of our age and slightly thinner than most too. His pate was smooth bald, likely freshly shaven, but what he lacked on top was made up for everywhere else. His hair was a dark russet red and could be seen on any bare patch of skin, not thick enough to be called fur, but it was a close thing. He wore his bread in three braids down the center of his chin. I wasn’t particularly knowledgeable of Dwarven culture, but I knew that a Dwarf’s braids marked which house or clan they belonged to and that the more braids, the higher the rank of the house or clan. His eyes shone bright copper and held a gleam of calculating intelligence.

As we drew near to the group of mostly strangers, Navor waved us over in a manner that said she wanted haste. We jogged up to her, and when we were within easy speaking range, she pointed to the lockers to our left. “Stow your gear, and don’t forget to pick up the translocation fob.”

I hurried over to the nearest locker that was marked available and tossed my stuff in. As I closed the locker door, a screen popped into the view of my therra that prompted me to make a five-number pin. After I keyed in my desired code, the screen vanished, and a small metal stick, no bigger than a thumb drive, ejected from the door, and I was prompted to take it and not lose it.

I pocketed the stick, and as one, Nel, Ferris, and I hurried back to the group. Once we were all gathered, Navor rubbed one temple with the pad of a thumb as if trying to stave off a migraine. When she spoke, Navor sounded tired. “Alright, kiddos. Introductions.” Without any more instruction, she pointed to the Dracose.

“My name is Demierra Flametongue.” She said as she placed an armored hand over her chest. Her voice was surprisingly light and smooth for her breed. “I’m a Spell Blade Mastlok. So I’m with Blackened Crown and Crimson Blade.”

When Demierra didn’t say more, the Human body spoke up. “My name is Jonathan Ozwald, but I would prefer if you call me Ozwald, seeing as this trip is all business. If you really must know, I am a Red Shadow Mastlok. If you’re not well-read enough to know what that means, then I’ll explain. I am an honorary member of The Sect of the Sightless Eye and The Sect of the Silent Heart. I will tell you now that I value my privacy and do not appreciate others asking me questions. If I have something you need to know, then I will tell you when it becomes pertinent.” Ozwold then gestured for the punk Half-Elf to take her turn next.

The girl gave a weighty sigh before turning her head away from the group and folding her arms under her modest breasts before speaking. “Gods, I feel like I’m in an addiction therapy group. I’m Zynna Miermor, and my drug of choice is shut the hells up and leave me alone.” When it was clear that Zynna wasn’t going to say anything more, S18 politely cleared his throat to get our attention.

“Greetings all. My name is Kharmor Gaibhnigh. I’m a Tinker’s Wand Mastlok, so I’m part of the Burning Hand and Blackened Crown sects. While I am good with repairing and building some field equipment, my strength is in alchemy. So if you need a magic brew, I’m your guy.”

After Kharmor was done speaking, Ferris spoke up with an introduction full of energy. After Ferris, Nennel gave her intro with ease, and I envied her for it. When my turn came, I stammered out, “H-hey guys. I-I’m Iver Maverick. I’m a t-Type 3 Mastlok, and I have t-training in Crimson Blade, Blackened Crown, and Burning Hand. I-I is good-. I mean am. I am good with technical stuff. If you n-need any g-gear, then j-just let me know.”

I knew I was a joke to the others, and I hated just how weak I sounded. But things went from bad to worse when Mystagogue Navor pointed to me and proclaimed, “Iver here, will be your team lead. If I send you lot out as a party, you’ll be taking cues from him. Got it?”

Every one of the new people had their own reaction to this development. Ozwald snorted and rolled his eyes away from me. Zynna just shook her head in disappointment. Demierra looked down at me over her snout with a raised brow of challenge. Kharmor just looked at me with a skepticism so thick I could’ve chewed on it.