Sam took a moment to process that particular tidbit, trying to ignore the pain in his armpit from the crutch. “So, are you a god too, then? Or, are you even…”
“Real?” the man replied. “I’m real enough, was born on Earth, same as you. Not a god, though, no. Just a simple blacksmith.” He looked thoughtful, a wistful expression crossing his face. “We can speak more once things officially get started. For now, hop in. You have a quest to get to a Waystone, I imagine? I’m heading into town myself. I’ll get you the rest of the way.” He leaned down and offered Sam a hand, which he hesitantly took. The man shifted over in the front seat of the cart, the aged wood creaking under the strain. “You can call me Arther.”
“Sam,” Sam replied, eyebrows furrowing as he noticed the man’s bright red cowboy boots. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You looked like you could use it,” Arther responded, eyes lingering on the rough, blood-soaked bandages.
They rode in silence for a few minutes as Sam tried to organize his thoughts. He checked the countdown that he’d first encountered when he’d woken up in the forest. He had just over forty-nine days remaining.
[Ring Purge Initiates in 49:01:42:19]
His heart rate quickened, seeing the seconds tick down, but he forced himself to focus on the road ahead. Every bump and jolt of the cart sent a wave of agony through his battered body, but he couldn’t deny it was faster than walking.
So he was in fact on Olympos. That meant that the email and text messages were accurate. He bit the inside of his cheek—he was fucked. He’d managed to piss off a god before the thing even started. Apparently so much so that the god had personally tried to kill him. Now he was supposed to be on some kind of quest? He frowned, turning back to the man.
“What was that you were talking about when you said there was a tutorial?”
Arther shrugged, holding the reins loosely in one hand. “Tch, maybe they changed the name. It’s the introduction the Arbiter gave when you arrived, explaining how your tafla works.” He held up his arm, gesturing to a small silver bracelet. It appeared to be made of many interwoven strands of silver metal and featured a large, clear gemstone.
“Yeah, I didn’t get one of those,” Sam said, heart sinking even further.
“What do you mean?” Arther replied, looking down at Sam’s wrist, “It’s right…” His voice trailed off, and he suddenly pulled on the reins, stopping the cart. His brow furrowed, and he lunged forward with inhuman speed, grabbing Sam’s left wrist.
Sam pulled back, muscles clenching at the sudden aggression. He tried to twist away, but the man’s grip was like iron. He felt a sharp, burning pain, and he cried out, desperately trying to free his arm. After a few perilous seconds, Arther released him, slouching in his seat and wheezing as if he’d run a marathon.
Sam looked down and was shocked to see that an identical bracelet had appeared on his wrist. The metal was cool against his skin, and he noticed that instead of white, his gem pulsed with a deep, azure glow.
“Illusion charm, and a damn powerful one at that.” Arther wheezed, his breath still coming in huge gasps. “I’ve never seen anything like it; it shouldn’t even be possible. Without your tafla, you can’t purchase skills, view your quests, or store items.” He looked Sam in the eye, genuine concern on his face. “It’s a death sentence.”
Shock quickly gave way to anger as Sam stared down at the strange jewelry. Not only had the god thrown an army of rats at him, but he’d outright cheated. Sam didn’t know the rules, but somehow he knew this was cheating.
“Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth, “I kinda told a god to fuck off when he let me know I’d been selected for this thing. But given the fact that he tried to convince me the war was real via email, I don’t know what else he’d expect?”
Arther stared at him, then shook his head and flicked the reins, the cart once again resuming its plodding journey. “I don’t know what an email is, but ignoring portents from the gods never ends well.”
“Yeah, well, where I’m from, the people who claim to talk to God generally end up in an asylum,” Sam paused, then added, “or run for political office, it’s a toss-up, really.”
Arther’s frown deepened. “It’s not smart to be flippant, child. The god’s message should have been clear, immutable. A summon to the Ring Wars is a momentous occasion; it’s a chance to join the great heroes of history.” He chewed his lip and took a swig from a waterskin at his waist before offering it to Sam.
Sam took it gratefully, the cold water washing away the dust from the road. “Right, well, I still don’t know what the Ring Wars even are, so maybe we start with that?” Sam felt his patience beginning to fray, the lack of sleep making his head pound.
Arther shook his head, “The Herald will explain, it's not my place to speak for the gods. I can help you with your tafla, however.” he pointed down to the bracelet. “Press the stone and think ‘On’.”
Sam sighed but acquiesced, gently prodding the large, blue gem. He nearly fell off the cart as a translucent screen suddenly materialized in front of him. “Jesus Christ!” He yelled, arms flailing, trying to maintain his balance.
“Careful with that,” Arther chided, pointing up towards the cliffs. “He may be up there too, for all we know.”
Sam shot him a look of horror before focusing on the floating panel that seemed affixed to his wrist. It followed his arm movements and hovered a few inches above the gem.
[SYSTEM INITIATION]
[TUTORIAL OVERRIDE]
A series of messages flashed across the screen. Sam tried to follow but the lines of code disappeared before he could make heads or tails of them. After a few seconds, the screen restarted, and he was presented with a complex interface, not dissimilar to the menu screen of a video game.
It was laid out like a detailed character sheet, with a lifelike model of himself floating in the middle.
Name: Samuel Lin
Race: Human
Patron: N/A
Class: N/A
Rank: Iron
It appeared he also had different slots for items, and he gingerly poked the image of his leather boots, surprised when his finger met real resistance. A tooltip appeared beside the boots, and he read the description.
[Warrior Boots - Iron - Common]
Simple leather boots crafted with care. Moderate protection from weak slashing and piercing attacks.
[Durability 16/20]
“Well, that sucks,” Sam muttered to himself, “no one likes durability mechanics.” He tapped on the knife as well.
[Warrior’s Side Knife - Iron - Common]
A sturdy knife is a Warrior’s greatest tool. For protection and utility, nothing is more versatile. Weak slashing and piercing damage.
[Durability 47/50]
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He nodded and quickly identified the rest of his items, noting that his tunic was now classified as [Ruined], likely from him using it for bandages. He also appeared to have a traditional inventory screen, which was currently empty.
“How do I store things in my inventory?” he asked, turning to Arther.
“You need to have the Tafla open. You can either press the gem again and then grab the item, or simply touch the thing and think ‘store’.”
Sam tried the first method and found it easy enough to store and retrieve his knife. A broad smile crossed his face, and he marvelled at how seamless the interface was. He suddenly had a hundred questions, and his eyes began darting all over the screen.
“How big an item can I store, and can I store things that are alive?”
“It's more a limit of weight than of size. You can only store things you can physically lift. In terms of dead or alive, you can't store animals, people, or monsters while they're alive, but you can store plants. You also can’t store items that are bound to someone else. You couldn't grab someone else’s shield mid-combat and store it against their will.”
Sam nodded along, making mental notes on the process. He noticed a series of blank spaces under his character model, numbered one through seven.
“And what about those empty slots? What are they for?” He said, gesturing to the screen.
Arther glanced over and shook his head. “You can't see another Warrior’s tafla unless they give you permission. But be careful, a lot can be gleaned from a quick glance. Don't share it with someone outside of your party unless you're trying to recruit them.”
Sam took a deep breath at hearing the word party, remembering it was referenced in the text message. He supposed he should be happy. Trying to survive in this place entirely on his own would undoubtedly have been a nightmare, but he didn't exactly have the best track record with group projects or team sports.
He thought back to high school, trying in vain to get his classmates to complete their portions of various assignments, only to cave at the last minute and finish it for them. His mother had called him ‘Saviour Sam' because he was constantly bailing out his friends. She’d told him that he needed to learn to let them fail on their own, that they were taking advantage of him. He’d tried it once, and his ‘friends’ had quickly shunned him after learning they couldn't bum free grades off of him.
He looked at the tafla and shouted, “Become visible!” He could see the transparency shift slightly, but he felt silly, almost like he was reciting a magic spell.
Clearly, Arther had similar thoughts as he let out a small chuckle. “You can say that in your head, lad. Any commands to the tafla can be projected mentally. Learning to communicate with sentiment rather than words will save you a lot of headaches in the long run. In terms of those slots, they’re for items you want to be able to access quickly, I believe you'd call them quick-slots.”
Sam noticed something odd as Arther finished the sentence, his lips not quite lining up with the words he was saying, almost like he was being poorly dubbed.
“What did you say?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Ah, that’ll be [Child of Babel]. Translations can sometimes get odd when the tafla’s involved. It’ll try to present it in a way you’ll best understand.”
“So everyone’s tafla will look different?” Sam asked, his mouth struggling with the foreign word.
“To them, yes. To you, no. Though even then, the changes should be subtle. The Arbiter has been at work for millennia, slowly moving the various races along a similar path. And of course, The Returned have had their own small impacts over the centuries.”
Arther imparted these phrases with such a casual cadence that Sam almost felt silly for having no idea what he was talking about. He sighed, not bothering to press the man as he returned to studying the tafla.
“It says I’m Iron Rank? How do Ranks work exactly?”
“It's roughly a gauge of your power level, but the requirements change with every War. Once you spend enough spira on skills, you'll reach the next Rank: Bronze, Silver, and so on. Don’t let a single metric fool you, though. There is a lot more that goes into a fight than just someone's Rank. I've seen more than one determined Gold take down an arrogant Platinum. Once you get to the higher ranks, class matchups will matter a whole lot more.”
“So it's not really that important? Also, what's Spira?”
Arther puffed his cheeks and blew out a long breath. “One thing at a time. Now, I didn't say ranks weren't important. Certain skills can only be purchased once you've achieved a specific rank. Certain dungeons and challenges can only be unlocked once you've hit the required threshold. There are also weapons and armour with Rank requirements.”
Sam nodded, filing the information away. His eyes were drawn to the top of the screen, where he noted a few additional tabs.
“Titles and Achievements,” he muttered, opening the window.
“Once you get out into the world, achievements will be one of the fastest ways to earn currency, at least on the earlier rings,” Arther interjected, clearly enjoying his role as tutor. “Titles are rarer and offer significant long-term benefits.”
Sam cracked a grin, noticing that he already had a few Titles.
[Child of Babel - Permanent]
A child born from the seeds of the Pantheon. As a traveller of worlds, you are blessed with the gift of tongues. Translate all relevant text and speech into your native language.
[Deific Mark - Temporary]
You have been marked by a Deity. Be prepared to receive their blessings or their curses.
[Rodent’s Resilience - Permanent - Iron - Tier 1 - Upgradeable]
You stand alone against the swarm, wielding their power against them.
Survive a monster horde without purchasing a single skill or item. Slight increase in physical durability and injury recovery. Bonus Recovery: Survive the horde while taking damage that should have killed you.
Rodent’s Resilience, eh? He would have laughed if it weren't so terrifying. He poked at the cuts on his chest, now barely more than deep scratches. He’d felt the rat-hound’s claws digging for his heart; it was scary to think that without the healing flames, he would undoubtedly be dead.
He flicked back through the other titles, and his stomach dropped upon re-reading the second one. He knew the god he’d encountered had it out for him, but to go so far as to mark him felt extreme. “How long does a [Deific Mark] last?” he asked, not looking over.
Arther let out a long breath. “It will last until you pass to the next ring, but Sam, I’ll be honest with you, a mark on the first ring is unheard of. [Deific Mark]’s are used by the gods to highlight their chosen Warriors, or to identify devotees of rival gods. They have a limited number, so they’re usually reserved for at least the third ring, once it’s clear a Warrior has a chance to ascend to the Halls of Eternity.”
“So I’ve got a literal target on my back.”
“Yes, it’ll be visible to all who worship the one who marked you. The gods can’t interfere directly, so they work through their followers.”
Sam looked down at the stump of his pinky finger, the lingering phantom pain still causing the digit to twitch. “Well, that’s objectively false,” he spat. “The gods can absolutely interfere.”
He then quickly recapped the events of the previous night, from the initial encounter with the rat, all the way to the burning club.
“Are you sure you weren’t just imagining the eyes? I’ve never heard of a god being able to possess a monster. It goes against the spirit of the war.” Arther replied, his face a mask of confusion. “As for the healing fire, that sounds like a [Divine Skill], but that shouldn’t be possible. Skills can’t be purchased until the war officially starts.” He scratched his chin, his dirty hand getting lost in his scraggly beard.
“As for the monsters themselves, those dire-rat hordes don’t usually appear until after the first week. Clearing out their nests is often one of the first group quests a party will receive. Are you sure there were that many? The dark can play tricks on you if you’re not careful.”
Sam simply turned his wrist and gestured to the list of achievements. “Do you think I got beat up like this from only a few rats?”
[Achievement - First Blood]
Be the first Warrior to slay a monster in the Seven Rings War.
[Reward: 1000 Spira]
[Achievement - Frugal Beastslayer]
Defeat 20 monsters without purchasing a single skill or item.
[Reward: 2000 Spira]
[Achievement - Frugal Usurper]
Defeat a [Rare] class monster without purchasing a single skill or item.
[Reward: 2500 Spira]
Arther’s eyes went wide, and he gestured wildly at the top of the screen. “Show me your spira. How much do ya have?!”
Sam fumbled with the controls for a moment before returning to the main window. He followed Arther’s gaze to what appeared to be a currency tracker in the top corner.
[Spira - 7,450]
This time it was Arther who nearly fell off the wagon.
“Well, that's obscene,” he spluttered, his face a mixture of disgust and awe. “Just how many of those rats did you kill? I've never seen anything like this after the first night. Normally, they drop you in the woods, you fight a wee beastie or two, and come out the next day with enough spira to buy some basic supplies and a few nights at the inn.”
Sam had to fight to suppress a smirk. It was validating to know that the previous night hadn’t been for nothing. Whatever spira was–it was important. If ‘obscene’ was what it took to take a shot at a god, then he’d do it over and over until he got his chance.
Arther turned back to face the road, his face flushed with shock. He muttered for a minute under his breath, counting on his fingers like a child. “You’ll be able to afford your first few skills with that, as well as some other essentials. You’ve built yourself up quite a coffer; you’ll need to think long and hard about how you spend it.”
“So, spira is money then?” Sam cut in. “Can I use it to buy weapons?”
“Right, no tutorial. Yes, spira is essential to survival in the rings.” Arther snapped his fingers, and a flat gold coin appeared in his hand. It was roughly shaped and reminded Sam of pictures he’d seen of ancient Roman currency.
“It’s how you pay for everything. It's how you purchase skills, armour, and healing draughts. And, most importantly,” he paused, turning to look Sam in the eye.
“It's how you ascend.”
