Of Evil and Angels

Chapter 2

Why the hell are my armor enchantments taking so long to fire up? Alyssalee needed every protection she could muster. After an eternity, a bright red glow emanated from her gear. The intensity obscured her vision, the brilliance inferring the level of peril. This was a sure sign that KeeperOfLight was well beyond her level. f**k.

She drew her scimitar and defended with the shield in one fluid motion. There was an annoying out-of-sync sound to the environment. The sound of her pulling the blade from her scabbard lagged behind the movement. The encephlotrak was taking in more data than the hologame platform could render.

Alyssalee realized she had overlooked a paramount concern. KeeperOfLight knew her name—her IRL name. The sinking feeling in her gut grew.

All’s not lost though, she considered, as they remained mounted on their fifteen-foot-tall dragon. Can’t fight at that altitude. Alyssalee took this as a good omen.

But then he dismounted.

I’m in the s**t now. She sighed and spent a moment to take in the scene dominated by the number one Sword of Sanctity legend.

This can’t be right. Orcs were the tallest species in the game, and ChikarNSpice was seven feet tall. The templar was only a couple of inches shorter. Not possible.

Of the thousands of templars she had slain, she couldn’t remember one so tall and broad-shouldered. He wasn’t even wearing the typical plate armor, which bulked up one’s size. He was wearing farmer’s garb, with only a baldric around his waist, and was hefting the most immense sword she had ever seen—it had to be five feet long. The blade would be impossible to handle if not for his ridiculous size. He locked his gaze on her as he took a few steps, moving in a sideways motion as if examining her.

Her mind was scrambling for the next best action to take, but KeeperOfLight interrupted her planning. A massive s***h came straight down on her in a blur. She barely saved herself with a two-handed defensive block with her scimitar. The blow was so powerful and lightning-fast, she had to take a knee to steady herself against it. The encephlotrak conveyed the bone-reverberating pain delivered by the hulking sword.

She didn’t recall sending her intent to block. It just happened. The effort left a metallic taste in her IRL mouth. Thrown off-kilter by this sloppy game reality where intentions, actions, and game feedback were no longer syncing, she hesitated.

KeeperOfLight kept her at bay with the massive two-hander, and as she lifted her head, he had a quizzical look on his face.

Alyssalee waited.

The earth rocketed into the air in successive bursts in her periphery.

Fabulous. What now?

Horned figures crawled from the battle-scarred ground. The creatures were red-skinned, muscular, and angry.

Interesting, she thought, these must be new NPC additions to Sword of Sanctity. There was no arguing. She’d take the help. Monster allies couldn’t hurt—AI or not. She waited and then...

“Okay, dumb shits. Attack!” The twelve small-statured AI stood motionless.

The weight of the steel evergreen lifted from her as the templar sheathed his sword.

“You are an arrogant ass, aren’t you?” Alyssalee asked. “You going to take all of us on with your bare hands?”

Now a full grin emerged on the templar’s angular face. At that moment, a barrage of jagged, swinging maces was inbound from the red devils. She dodged and propelled herself into a sideways somersault to a position outside the circle of horned AI. Why are they only attacking me? Then it occurred to her.

“It’s true,” she yelled in disbelief, rolling to avoid the nearest set of iron knobs hurling toward her. “You’re a cheat.” Pissed now. “I’ll be damned if I am going to lose my number two slot to a cheater. Why don’t you fight me, fucker?”

The templar just stood, watching this slanted battle play out.

Her scimitar shone in close combat. The wicked curve of her blade allowed for brutal slashes that could slice open her opponents from neck to groin with one swing. The reach of their maces wasn’t beyond that of her blade. It’d be a different story if the templar joined the skirmish. Acrobatics would need to be deployed to avoid the reach of his five-foot long weapon. She put down three of her horned foes with consecutive up-down-up strokes as if she was painting a fence. She blocked two blows with her small shield, only the size of a dinner plate and as equally knobbed as her opponent’s maces. A mace slammed against her neck as her luck evaporated. Pain shot through her spine. Sensations of actual pain were a negative feature of using mindsync. She suffered the loss of twenty percent of her health. In a flash, that attacker lost its head.

ChikarNSpice shield-bashed a hole in one of her horned foes’ heads, followed by a wild donkey kick that toppled three more behind her, causing added collateral damage from the flailing bodies. She took a couple more hits, but she didn’t get the receipts on those. The blows sent her health plummeting to forty percent. After infusing a charge of healing from the amethyst charm she wore, her health spiked back to sixty percent. At the current pace of the battle, it’d be over before her charm’s healing powers replenished. She knew she’d better make it count. The battlefield was silent now. Disbelief gave way to satisfaction, as she realized she had defeated twelve high-level AI in an all-out mob brawl.

The pride of the moment was short-lived as a crashing blow came from the side. The evergreen had fallen. Alyssalee threw her shield in front of it, but the templar’s blade cleanly separated her shield into two halves and passed through to her orc skull. The pain made her dizzy, and as her virtual vision restored, she was in the spirit realm—dead.

Game over.

Alyssalee threw off the encephlotrak with a loud “f**k”, determined that game support would soon hear from her. There was no way she would waste her hard-earned, Sisters-of-Light-indentured-servitude dijcoin on a cheating game maker. No f*****g way, she thought.

Kit called from across the holocade, “Had to stop for a prayer, Sister Al?”

Alyssalee looked down, realizing that she was crouched with one knee to the floor, just as the templar had left her from his blow. So, cheating and bugs, she thought. Internal game events had never affected her IRL body. “Bugs with the minsdync,” she said. “And I am not a Sister, you dunce.”

Intent on ripping Sword of Sanctity’s creators a new one, she exited the arena, knowing there would be a line waiting at the orphanage’s single commportal. She’d better get there now, or she’d miss lunch and probably dinner waiting in line. Walking to the door, Alyssalee intercepted Samuel as he made his way through the doorway.

Smiling, Samuel asked, “Hey Al, how goes the battle today?”

“Sucky.”

Not displaying the expected sympathy, Samuel asked, “You finished with the arena then?”

“Yeah, but it’s glitching big time. I wouldn’t waste my dijcoin on that arena.” Samuel played in mindsync mode as well, so he was likely to experience the same issues, she guessed.

“What went down today?” Samuel asked, raising his eyebrows.

Alyssalee sighed. “Dude... mf-ing KeeperOfLight showed up.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I s**t you not,” she said. “I think the conspiracy stories are true. He showed up with a beast mob, and they attacked me. Beast on beast! Cheats, I tell you. It’s like the game devs want to keep him in the number one slot at any cost.”

“No way,” Samuel said. “I have wondered about that myself, but my rank is nowhere near yours. Did the monsters waste you?”

“No, I polished them off nicely, but he took a cheap shot at me and split my new bone-wrecker shield in half... and my head while he was at it. I spent, like, ten thousand coins on that gear.”

“Freaking—" he started.

“Damn right, fucking...” she corrected. “I am going to give them hell when I get a commportal back at the office.” She preferred to call the orphanage “the office” to avoid the unwanted conversations and stereotypes that living at a UNUM facility invoked. The stereotypes flourished, most of which Alyssalee had debunked.

Unlike Samuel, Kit knew of her predicament because his father handled intergovernmental business for UNUM. They often saw one another at formal events where she served food to guests at the Cathedral of the Chosen. She was thankful that Kit did not advertise his family’s involvement with UNUM for similar reasons.

“I’ll catch you later. I’ve got some bitching to do for those Knewarc corporate assholes.” With that, Alyssalee exited the holocade and grabbed a levboard. Stewing the entire way back to the Sisters of Light, she paid little attention to right-of-ways or the insane speed she was traveling.

***

THE SISTERS OF LIGHT Orphanage was an old building, but it looked worn beyond its years. The ornate tympanum had chipped over the years. Alyssalee was to blame for some of the injuries the building had sustained. Besides scrubbing the floors, the orphans were part of the building maintenance crew. The aspirants labored more than anyone. Aspirants weren’t steeped in UNUM studies like novices and had more time for chores. The lintel above the front entrance had many saintly-looking figures standing shoulder to shoulder in sequence, with both winged and horned figures running across several layered arches. Below the saints, a horizontal menagerie of children stood arranged as if playing an invisible game. Alyssalee had read stories of the building going back two or three centuries when it was an educational establishment for a UNUM precursor.

As she arrived back at the dungeon of her captivity, she changed her clothes, aiming for utility. The commportal was near the administrative offices of the orphanage, and she didn’t want the Sisters on duty to send her back because of improper attire. A long line had already formed, and she couldn’t afford a redo. She dressed in a zip-up sweat top, enough to ward off the Sisters’ uptight and judging eyes. Back at her cell, Gwendelyn sat in an unnatural, upright position at her desk, reading a UNUM text and jotting in her notebook.

Gwendelyn met Alyssalee’s eyes first, and they spoke volumes, confirming she had made the right decision to add the sweater to her dorm-party-combat ensemble. “Hey there, Gwen.”

“Afternoon. Where are you off to in such a rush?” Gwendelyn said in her crisp, to-the-point style.

“I have an important comm to make,” she replied.

Gwendelyn tilted her head and looked at Alyssalee over her round spectacles, her neck skin on the verge of creating a second chin. Considering for a moment, Gwendelyn swung her strawberry hair out of her face and returned to her notes. Gwendelyn mumbled, “That nonsensical game again.”

“I heard that. And yeah, so what?”

“Al, how much longer do you think they are going to let you stay here? It would help if you came up with a plan. I don’t believe hologaming has a bright career outlook.”

Alyssalee zipped up her sweat top further for good measure, adjusted her braid, and left without a glance back at Gwendelyn. She had that familiar sinking feeling that Gwendelyn was right. Worry hummed in the back of her mind, like the constant chant of locusts during the peak of summer. Gwendelyn was a master of observation and shared her thoughts in the most unbelievably blunt manner possible. She was right far more than she was wrong, but never reminded Alyssalee of this. Gwendelyn’s intentions were pure. This kept Alyssalee from venting her insecurities with angry words toward her roomie.

As Alyssalee rounded the corner of the glistening hallway, she tackled the abbess of the Sisters of Light, Reverend Mother Sweeney.

“Shi—” Alyssalee began. “I beg your pardon, Reverend Mother.” The stately woman’s voluminous habit seemed to absorb the impact.

“Ah, Candidate Quiteria... Alyssalee. I was just on my way to gather you. It seems you have a pressing matter to attend to, but if you’d be so kind as to give me a few moments. Please, follow me,” she directed.

Could this day get any more f****d? Alyssalee thought.