Chapter 9

When they were kids, Luke and his brother had found an old abandoned tree fort in the woods behind their house. Immediately dubbing it ‘Fort Impregnable,’ they had proceeded to zealously guard it against their older sister, despite the fact that she’d never shown more than a passing interest in it.

Luke had carved those words into the base of the tree and for three years, they’d made that fort the base of their woodland operations. Then their mother had died, the family had moved, and that had been the end of the fort, the end of a lot of things.

Curt had taken the time to carve Luke’s message into solid stone. Admittedly, it was a bit of a hack job, but better than Luke could manage with the tools he had. What Luke couldn’t figure out was if it was just a piece of sentimentality or if it meant something. He ran the flashlight up the wall, looking for clues, but there was nothing.

“What did you mean?” he murmured to himself as he looked around. Luke closed his eyes and pictured the words in the tree. He’d looked at them every single time they’d gone to that tree fort, then looked up and stretched to reach the first branch he used to climb up.

He looked at the cave again, stepped around his brother’s remains and reached out to touch the words carved in the stone. Then he pointed the flashlight straight up. At first, he missed it in the shadows, but once the flashlight hit it, he saw the opening in the roof of the nook. The stone was rough enough that he was able to find a few hand holds to boost himself up.

Cautiously, he climbed up, his eyes peeled for any threats lurking at the top. The chamber was empty of life though. He found a room, obviously carved and expanded to give it more size. It was maybe twenty feet across, and Luke had come up in the corner. Across from him was a set of stone shelves carved out of the wall.

The rotting remains of a basket were sitting next to some sort of fire pit, half filled with some sort of white powder. Nearby was a rack that held several dusty weapons. Luke stepped over to examine them, one at a time.

At the top was a pair of swords, similar in length to the ones he’d taken from the goblins, except with appropriately sized hilts. He used the scrap of cloth to polish them up a bit, and found both to be in good condition. The leather on the hilts was old, but otherwise they were an upgrade in every conceivable way.

Below them was an axe with a blade bigger than Luke’s face. It had a handle almost three feet long, but it was all wood, and the ravages of time had taken their toll on it. Luke supposed he did have the [Woodcarving]skill, so it was possible to repair it.

At the bottom though was the weapon that called to him. At first glance, it was a metal pipe with a thick glob of grime and muck on the end. Once he picked it up and wiped it down a bit, he saw it was actually a mace with a three-foot metal handle. The head was another eight inches of symmetrical flanged steel. Each flange was probably a quarter inch thick.

He wiped it completely clean, or at least as clean as he could get it without any water, and gave it a few test swings. It was far heavier than the swords, but with his enhanced strength, that wasn’t a problem. The grip fit his hands like it was made for him, and Luke grinned. The next marmot he saw was getting its brained splattered clear to the trees.

If he’d had this half an hour ago, he’d have torn those cave mutants apart in seconds. “But how did you make this, Curt? Is this some kind of workshop? Where did you get the materials?”

There were some leather sheaths and harnesses, but they weren’t in great condition anymore. Luke picked up one that was obviously designed to hold his new mace, only to have a piece of it crumble and fall off just from his fingers pushing down. He dropped it with a sigh. It would have been too much to ask for something to hold it.

He quickly went over the rest of his brother’s workshop. Whatever Curt had been trying to do, he’d clearly spent a lot of time and probably a lot of AP on the skills needed to make the place. Luke supposed it would be a good place to hole up at night, though he wasn’t thrilled about stepping over his brother’s remains every time he wanted to go in or out. He needed a shovel or something so he could bury him properly.

Luke wondered if he could carve one out of wood that would hold up to dig a hole. He needed a better knife than the folding one he’d been using if he was going to start actually making stuff though. Idly, he ran the flashlight over the workshop, hoping to find something. To his surprise, he did notice a knife sitting on a little cubby carved out over what he was assuming was Curt’s bed.

Whatever he’d been using as a mattress had long since disintegrated, but it was about the right size to lay on. Luke reached over it to snag the knife, and it was only as he picked it up that he noticed it was laying on one of those leather-bound journals Curt had always carried around with him.

Hesitantly, scared that it would fall to pieces if he was too rough, Luke picked it up and opened it. The first pages were what he remembered from back home, just notes about games he was playing, random thoughts, and a few things for work. Just seeing his brother’s handwriting was almost enough to make him tear up, and Luke swore again that he’d get them all back.

About half way through the journal, things changed. Luke knew he was wasting his flashlight’s batteries, but he couldn’t stop himself from reading.

No idea what the hell happened. Unc asked me to take a look at a computer he had in his basement to see if it was worth anything. Last thing I remember is a door that I’d never seen before opening next to the furnace, then him shoving me through it. What the hell was that? Why did he do it? Is this where everyone else went?

The fucker had the gall to apologize to me while he was doing it. Told me that it was the only way to make the voices stop, that he had to. I would have thought he was batshit crazy, but here I am, sitting in some woods with nothing but a piece of deadwood I found to protect me. The animals here are crazy, and some of them are crazy big. I have stats and skills now, and this tutorial NPC calling itself System is answering questions.

Either he’s crazy or I am. Shit, why not both?

What followed was pages and pages of notes about how Curt thought the system worked, what info he’d gotten from System, and what questions he had that remained unanswered. He seemed unreasonably annoyed that there was no skill to let him identify things. Luke wasn’t sure it was such a big deal, personally. He supposed it would be handy to know something’s level before he fought it, but it wasn’t like it was a deal-breaker.

There was also a lot of complaining about how there seemed to be none of what Curt termed ‘mental stats’ to enhance his mind and magic and several pages of how he’d do things differently if he’d designed the system. Luke could practically hear his brother’s ranting as he read.

He turned a page and stopped. “Oh, damn. Does this work? System! Is this viable?”

System appeared next to him and said, “Your brother’s build notes? He believed them to be so based on the information he obtained from me or independently researched.”

The page was a roadmap of how to spend AP, when to boost stats and in what order, what skills to buy, when to upgrade them, what was needed as prerequisites for other skills. It was a complete guide mapped out to level 50. The margins even had notes with a list of skills to try to obtain naturally. Luke was not optimistic about following those directions, or even really sure why he wanted to learn skills like ‘barrel making’ or ‘milling’ to begin with.

Whatever Curt’s goals had been, it looked like he was focused on becoming some kind of super crafter. It was no wonder he’d managed to carve a whole hidden workshop out of a cave, and if he’d followed his own build, his perception was more than double what Luke’s had. The lack of light probably hadn’t meant a thing to him.

There was another build on the next page, this one with his name scribbled across the top. Luke studied it for a few seconds, then marked the page to come back later. He flipped another page and found the writing was addressed to him specifically.

Luke,

I’m still not clear on what all is going on here. Something wants our family here, and it’s using Aunt Sophie’s husband to drag us in, one by one. There seems to be some sort of time dilation difference. It’s only been a month since Lizzie went missing, but she’s been dead here for decades. I’m writing this to warn you: don’t trust System. It has its own agenda.

Oh, it acts like a computer program. You’d think if you just ask the right questions you’ll get what you need, that if it can’t help you, that’s just the way it is. System can break its own rules any time it wants. It is trying to manipulate me, but I can’t figure out why. It wants me to access this command console, keeps urging me to fight and grow stronger, gain more levels.

At first I thought that was just the goal of this place. This game world I’m trapped in. But the longer I spend here, the more I think there’s something else. Things don’t make sense to me. System’s answers don’t always line up with what I’m seeing.

I know you don’t go in for the brainy stuff. It’s boring, and you’d rather fail twice before getting it right than spend the time to think it through and only do it once. But I need you to listen to me here. Keep your eyes open. Don’t trust System. Don’t trust anyone. Something is rotten in this world. You aren’t going to get a do-over if you make a mistake.

I hope to God you never have to read this. If you are, it means I died and you were the next one to get pulled in. If that is the case, I’ve made a build with you specifically in mind. I also made a few weapons, though if I know you, you already picked your favorite before you ever found this journal.

This is all I can pass on to you. I’ve done my best to give you a guide to growing in a way that suits your strengths and shores up your weaknesses. Don’t take it as gospel. God knows I’ve made enough mistakes since arriving here, but I hope it’s enough to point you in the right direction.

I love you. Be strong. Be safe.

Curt

Luke read it twice while System floated in front of him, silent. When he was done, he wiped away tears again and looked up at the apparition. “You see whatever I see, right? So you already know everything this says about you. Got anything to say about that?”