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Admin: Ending Prologue (3)
🕑 Added 2025-07-05 12:24:32 +0000 UTCThe horde advancing forward resembled the fighting force assembled by Jabberwocky only in that both contained exclusively Players as participants in their battle formations, but there, any possible similarity between the two armies ended.
Jabberwocky's army was organized, disciplined, and overall dangerously close to the layman's idea of an actual ‘army’, meanwhile Ja-Raja's force perfectly demonstrated why Players gathered in one place could be called a ‘raid’ without any hesitation.
As if hearing my words, after a dozen steps the Players added to the cacophony of footsteps, running, and commands, the equally cacophonic sounds of battle cries as the two armies crashed against each other. The tangle of bodies made it absolutely impossible to track individual Players' actions, or to figure out which group each Player was moving with and under whose command.
The ‘raid’ quickly turned to individual battles.
So, it was quite expected that the ‘civilized’ side of the Players, positioned as small cordons around Infernal territory, made for exactly this possibility, would notice their approach. Instantly, a messenger ran to their base, carrying with them the grim news about the Infernal attack… Of course Jabberwocky had even devised a system of military messengers and reinforcement would come soon.
But such reinforcement didn't help the players stationed as cordons much.
Each ‘outpost’ contained about five Players total, usually those who preferred a more peaceful play style, preferring to engage in the various crafting systems, or just used the game to chat with their friends, using the game as a social space. Basically the kinds of Players that weren't so serious about the game and therefore agreed to the rather unexciting job of surveilling the Infernals’ movement, occasionally chasing imps that wandered too close to their camps out of boredom.
So naturally, they weren't prepared for the appearance of a living, writhing carpet of an incredible number of Players. Though it's worth saying that even the boss raid party would likely have been unprepared for such a sight.
Instilled discipline or not, none of the Players had yet reached levels in the thousands where they could wipe entire armies with a snap of their fingers, such a huge horde was clearly an insurmountable opponent for them. Add to this, the demonic-like cacophony of the charge, the stomping, demented screams and the game's realism?
Nerves began failing quite quickly. After all, these weren't Jabberwocky's elite legionnaires honed for boss raids, but ordinary Players, albeit organized into something resembling guard duty. Huddled together, holding their spears while trembling, they couldn't even hope to hold back Ja-Raja's horde.
A couple seconds at best, and another scouting camp fell to the barbarian onslaught, and after twenty minutes, and nothing remained of the ‘cordon’. The assembled barbarian army, as if overflowing its containment vessel, struck out from inside their territory, and they’re clearly getting into their role. Shouts that they were the punishing sword of the first demon or some random pagan deity that came to their mind resounded.
A quick look at Jabberwocky informed me that he himself still hadn’t learned about the catastrophe approaching him from all sides, focusing instead on methodically dealing with the Raid boss. Who, despite all of Jabberwocky's preparation, proved not so easily defeated after all.
Glory to all AIs for that.
After exchanging several blows with the Players, the Boss immediately moved to break out of the organized encirclement around him and holed up in a small annex near the square where the battle with them was supposed to take place. Not being a fool, he climbed to the second floor and with a fireball collapsed the entrance to the house and the staircase leading to him, then in the style of a particularly dangerous criminal getting cornered, began taking potshots. If by potshots, I mean [Fireball]. Periodically, the Boss would stick out of the window and launch spells at those stupid enough to emerge from cover or show the boss their location.
Needless to say, it was more than difficult for the Players to strike or even get close to the boss, they had no cheat abilities capable of hitting through walls. However, Jabberwocky, demonstrating his worth as an excessively clever and overly prepared commander, ordered them to bring in the grenades. To be more precise, explosive potions tied together in large bundles, which Players were now loaded up to their slings, before lobbing them into the boss' hiding place.
Whether they hit the boss or not didn't interest the Players at this point, they continued bombing at least the building where the boss was trapped in, threatening to bring it down and bury the boss under the rubble. Not necessarily an instant kill, the boss had a respectable HP pool, but it would definitely cut off a massive chunk.
Plus, if the building collapsed on top of the Boss, it would absolutely disorient him and deprive him of cover, turning him into an easy target.
The Boss, figuring this out, as well as realizing he'd personally blocked his own escape route from the now dangerously creaking building, used a trick I had once used in the past, thereby earning another star in my internal rating for the AI.
Hurling an [Ice Ball] forward, the Boss quickly followed it with a [Fireball], creating a steam screen that would cover it, before leaping out the window, deciding to swallow some damage points with a rough landing if it meant not getting buried under rubble. A well-deserved reward for his cunning.
However, Jabberwocky didn't panic this time, the explosive potions prepared for demolishing the house shifted targets and began bombarding roughly in the direction of the steam cloud itself. Most of the throws missed the Boss, of course, but some of these projectiles still reached their intended target, plus they dealt area damage anyway, so the Boss' health slowly but steadily began crawling downward.
I continued munching on popcorn while observing this spectacle and the boss's reaction, whose AI was clearly starting to panic bit by bit, as much as an AI could panic anyway. It seems that the AI had come to the logical conclusion that Jabberwocky couldn't have too many explosive potions squirrelled up, and chose to rush toward the next cover.
From a certain perspective, the Boss was right, Jabberwocky indeed has a limited amount of explosive potions, and in fact had indeed run out. But, rather than stopping there, Jabberwocky ordered the use of another alchemical discovery by Players; a vial with murky green liquid flew out and crashed somewhere near the boss, immediately exploding in a fountain of murky green, creating much more disgusting-looking slime than could realistically fit inside the vial itself.
Similar projectiles followed one after another, vials filled with what the Players called [Sticky Slime], and what I called ‘dear god, what can players cook up from a slime demon's body?’. It exploded one by one, covering both the cobblestone and the Boss himself with nasty-looking green stringy threads that I could only compare to the result of a giant's very abundant nose-blowing.
However, unlike such consumables in all other games where Players usually didn't use weird effects like ‘sticking’, this time the consumable was not only massively used but even worked as the players intended.
So a couple of vials later, and the boss was completely covered in a viscous green goop sticking him to the floor, rooting him in place.
It didn’t end there, as soon as the Players noticed that the Boss was stuck, they threw everything else they have, rocks, empty vials, everything they had brought with them. Following, the Players specialized in close quarter combat, rushed forward, seeing the perfect moment; Jabberwocky deciding to go all-in and finish the boss with one powerful assault.
And I could even say that he was making the right decision; the boss had already lost a third of its health pool, so even just one very powerful hit from multiple Players at once had the chance to end the fight right there.
But, the Prophet wasn't about to just lay down and die.
So a moment later, a fire arrow pierced through the slime, igniting it around the Boss while taking a couple lives of careless Players who were too close to the conflagration. The fire damaged the Boss as well, but he was now free to move.
Following this, the Boss charged forward, again changing tactics. Reaching the first Player who wasn't expecting such actions from the Boss, he was swept away, before the boss then headed straight toward the hiding archers. The Boss' mana was already bottoming out, so he had to be quite creative.
And so, using one of humanity's most magical techniques available, good old fisticuffs, the Boss cast his fist to any Players he could reach; the Archers didn’t stand a chance.
The Boss had time to cast another [Fire Arrow], taking two more Players at once, before the other Players finally recovered from their shock, and rushed towards the Prophet.
The discipline hammered into their brain's sub cortex finally gave way as their battle formations began crumbling, and instead of the mechanical efficiency, the Players just started stabbing wherever they could. Spears from all sides stabbed forward, as fast as they could, occasionally getting in each other's way, though they at least still remember to also handle the other mobs.
Usually, at this moment a [Fireball] from the boss would fly, punishing such a massive blob of Players, however, at this very moment, the Boss finally ran out of mana. Therefore, he couldn't find any way to respond to such ‘tactics’, except a desperate scramble to reach the nearest opponent and grab them with his bare hands.
It was a chaotic melee.
Several more casualties appeared on the Players' side, but the Boss' speed in dealing damage to the Players were hampered severely for him to be able to reverse the situation. So, after several minutes, the Boss, stuck from all sides like a porcupine, finally approached the end of his virtual existence, and under the relieved sighs of the Players who lived to see this amazing moment, and under my couple congratulatory claps for the Players themselves; the Boss transitioned into his final death animation.
***
Beze, who had only survived so far thanks to luck, involuntarily wiped a nervous sweat from her brow. Of course, she couldn't actually sweat in the virtual world, but she would probably need to drink a lot of water after she logged out. She had no doubt that her real body is currently drenched with sweat. It might just be a virtual activity, but the fight against the Mad Prophet felt like a marathon.
Repeatedly it seemed to her that the entire raid was tilting toward defeat, fighting against the Mad Prophet had been come and go most of the time, even with all the preparation they had done for the fight. It was a fight to be remembered, that's for sure, the Boss was not just a punching bag, for a moment Beze even forgot she was fighting a game NPC and started thinking about how she could catch her ‘opponent’. She had treated the Boss like a player hidden behind a special game avatar…
But finally, when the boss, pierced by yet another spear thrust, took a step back, it was very much unlike he had ever done before. The Players could feel it, even as they still kept their guard up, that was it, the Boss had just run out of HP.
Beze froze, all the other Players, even Jabberwocky, who'd arrived as a commander and observer not long ago, also froze. They could only watch as the Boss took several more steps back and started swaying, before raising his gaze upward, a sightless stare directed over the Players' heads, somewhere beyond them.
“So… This is how… It ends… In the end?” Taking a step forward while swaying, the Boss involuntarily made the other Players part before him, both out of fear, they had seen him toss a Player like a rag doll before, and out of respect. Nobody could say the Prophet hadn't earned the respect of the Players gathered against him for this raid.
“So much effort… So much labor… And all for nothing…” Muttering under his breath, the Prophet took another couple swaying steps forward, before, swaying forward once more, collapsing forward onto his knees, looking like a penitent sinner falling on his knees before an altar.
“Perhaps I was wrong? But what's the point… Now? All the efforts… Attempts to achieve… It's all so… Foolish… In this final moment… I hear no hymns… I see no labors… The experiments…” Raising his hand forward as if trying to grasp with dry thin fingers at something that could no longer be reached in this world, the Prophet froze before his hand fell down.
“I see you… My Child… Please…”
The Prophet paused for a second before exhaling what seemed like the last breath of his life.
“Live.”
And a moment later, the Prophet finally went still before falling on his side, breathing its last breath.
The Players gathered around the dead body didn't move for another ten seconds, making sure that the Prophet was actually really dead and wouldn't activate a second phase. Jabberwocky had assumed such a possibility, so he'd prepared for this case too; he had given orders to the cordon gathered around the boss battle site to join in should the Boss have a second phase.
Either that, or they were standing in tribute, to respect for the first truly serious opponent the Players had encountered.
However, after a few minutes had passed and nothing seemed to be happening, the Player moved on rather than trying to loot the Prophet’s body for whatever magic items he was wearing. And this is despite the fact that many Players had loudly and excitedly debated about what exact bonuses the equipment obtained from the Boss would provide.
Beze knew this sentiment was overly naive, shaking her head, she knows his Boss, there’s no way that he would step over any advantage he could get, Jabberwocky obviously wouldn't leave the Boss's body just lying on the ground. He would probably expropriate it immediately when an opportunity presented itself, quite likely even giving the body to the alchemists for experiments to see what they could get from it.
But, of course, she wasn’t so ghastly as to do it, she didn't go against the crowd's mood. If Jabberwocky needed the loot from the boss so badly, then let him deal with it. Beze had just gone through the most adrenaline-filled and difficult raid of her life with the people surrounding her. However much the loot obtained from the Boss interested her, she definitely wasn't going to turn these people against herself.
In any case, going past the Boss’ body, the Players marched forward. The mission and necessity to destroy the huge flask located in the very center of the square hadn't been forgotten, while the Prophet's final animation only added to their interest in these actions. So after a couple of minutes of unhurried walking, joined in by the Players that had acted as the cordon and artillery support, they walked to the center of the Boss room.
They stopped before the huge flask, completely filled with murky green liquid, through which it was difficult to make out anything inside… Until the Players realized that they had no idea on what to do next.
***
For several minutes I heard animated whispering that turned quickly into arguments. Taught by bitter experience of randomly poking other random objects and being punished for thoughtless behavior. Players now thoughtfully examined the flask from all sides, trying to figure out exactly how they should open it without being crucified by game justice; that is, me.
The only issue was… There were no such mechanisms, magical or otherwise, for opening the flask. I had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that the Players would simply throw a big rock at it, or poke it with a spear. But apparently my self-assigned mission to ‘scare the Players shitless so they don't do anything unusual or weird’ had an unintended side effect.
The Players are now too scared to destroy the flask.
My gaze involuntarily slid to the side, figuratively speaking, when I remembered that besides the Jabberwocky alliance, another large group was currently on the move. It seems that my estimation about the Infernals, and how they would move, was right on the dot.
The Infernals moved like a living and very angry wave, focused on consuming all available loot-mass, paying no attention to mobs or other Players, instead turning them into experience and loot that was instantly divided among all Players. Though ‘divided’ was perhaps too soft of a word to use to describe what the Infernals were doing, looting, that’s the word to use. Each and every Infernal, simply, stole and took what they could without being spotted by another Infernal. If another Infernal wanted something that another Infernal had picked up?
Well, dead people tell no tales… Well, they could when they finish their revive, so they could ‘dispute’ which treasure is whose, then. The worst danger to the Infernal, was another Infernal.
It seems that the Infernals had completely bought into the ‘necessity’ of roleplaying a mob of evil barbarians. And now for every Infernal player killed by any other factor, either from mobs, other Players from another faction, or simply from accidents, there were two killed by another Infernal.
Considering, though, that EXP continued flowing in such cases anyway, migrating from one Player to another, the Infernals were actually growing stronger, even as they shed more and more Players.
True, such an approach would very quickly and qualitatively reduce the total number of Infernals, their ‘non-combat losses’ growing with each step, but their overall number was still outstanding. To hold them back with the forces of Players still remaining at their posts…
I couldn't imagine such an outcome, honestly… But knowing Jabberwocky, maybe I was once again underestimating him and would soon have egg on my face.
However, on the other hand? It's not like I cared so much about who exactly would win this confrontation. The main thing was for the Players to enjoy themselves, have something to talk about on forums, and have a reason to return to the game. After all, even failures could be fun and exciting if it was memorable.
However, what attracted my attention much more than the movement of the unstoppable horde itself was the survivors of their raid. The ‘messengers’ I'd noticed earlier weren't just acting as marathon runners, but had clearly copied a page from real world history. Running to a new post that was spaced at quite a distance from each other that no attack could completely take everyone by surprise. There, the survivors would pass their message on to the next messenger on the chain, after which the new messenger would rush off to the next outpost.
Of course this wasn't quite matching the achievement of Tamerlane or Timur as he’s better known, the founder of the Timurid dynasty who forced everyone to maintain special postal stations with fresh horses and ready riders, but the idea was similar and understandable. When each Player had spent their stamina reserves, an in-game endurance indicator, on fast running, especially if they activated abilities like ‘sprint’, replacing tired players with new and rested one's allowed them to move faster than any raid. Especially when the raid consists of constantly arguing, in-fighting, Infernal.
An army that constantly stopped in its tracks for another conflict or getting distracted by mobs for a couple of experience points, either like real gamers or like ADHD-suffering children.
Though, if you thought about it, there wasn't much difference between these two.
In any case, while the messengers continued moving, the Players that they were ostensibly running towards, gathered around the flask began reaching a general decision…
And once again I didn't like it.
The thing was, the Players under Jabberwocky's influence had once again chosen any solution except the correct one. They are now organizing into search teams that would look for keys, seals, and records about the flask, in an attempt to find the ‘right’ way to open it.
Fine, under normal circumstances I might have let them waste a couple of hours on useless searching, it would probably take that long anyway before someone's nerves would snap, and they'd toss a rock at the flask out of boredom. But that was only possible under normal circumstances.
Right now, considering that the Infernals were approaching, and the messenger would reach the Raid group soon, I had a hunch that I am now acting under an invisible timer. Because the moment Jabberwocky caught wind of the Infernals attacking, he'd surely gather the remnants of his coalition army and direct it to defend their territories. At least, he would do so if he still wanted to preserve his status as the unofficial leader of my game’s ‘good’ side.
He would most definitely forget for long hours, maybe even days, considering the possibility of developing an in-game war with raids and counterstrikes among Players, about the existence of the flask he should smash right now.
For a second I considered just going down and throwing that very rock, but after a moment's thought had to admit that Jabberwocky had outplayed me again. Given the now clearly established command structure, if I tried interfering now, wearing the guise of a random Player, walking in and throwing a rock at the flask, not only would other players definitely notice my actions, but they'd get interested in exactly who I was.
I wouldn't even be surprised if Jabberwocky had started creating actual bureaucracy and had written a list of Players and their positions in battle formations. It would instantly expose my identity as a stranger in their army. And that's if players hadn't decided to fulfill the only real male fantasy and completely cosplay the Roman Empire.
Because then I wouldn’t be able to remember some trivia, like the meaning of ‘fulmentarius’ and for real legion lovers this would instantly give me away as a fake player.
Every second of deliberation was a wasted second, a second during which the next problem, in the form of an approaching messenger, comes closer and closer, more and more inevitable.
So, internally praying to the game god, that is, myself, instead of thinking of another way, I used an old saying about the Lord and his mysterious ways.
And so a moment later, a rock appearing from nowhere simply materialized slightly behind the crowd of Players who hadn't yet managed to form into ranks, and let it fly forward with imparted acceleration.
A moment later a loud sound traveled across the square, the sound of a stone hitting glass, accompanied by the sound of glass cracking. To the onlooking Player’s horror, a huge crack appeared on the flask.
“Who threw the rock?!” A panicked commander's voice, a girl with the nickname of ‘Beze’, was directed towards the Players. Causing the scattered group to start turning here and there, as if the culprit would surrender their identity. Soon, chaos started, each Player babbling over each other, convincing whoever would hear of their innocence, or pointing fingers at each other as culprits.
Almost immediately, no one could trust each other, even if no one knew the reason why the rock was thrown in the first place.
The rock, and its consequences, however, didn't suddenly become un-thrown, or the glass fixed, and so the crack grew, and as the noise rose alongside it, most Players wisely took their distance from the thin. Others, apparently taking their role as legionnaires of the gaming world to heart, readied their weapons or took cover behind shields as best they could, preparing for new mobs or even for another Boss to appear before them.
Beze also hurried to retreat back behind the ranks of huddled Players, as did Jabberwocky, now could only be watching as the crumbling flask's glass trembled finely, struggling to contain the streams of murky green liquid inside.
A moment later, having reached the requisite damage level and after letting out a pitiful moan of ringing glass, the flask finally fell apart and the green liquid inside spread in all directions, splashing free. A couple Players, who hadn't figured out what would happen when a flask filled with liquid was destroyed, got knocked off their feet by the wave of liquid, but that was it. Despite its uncommon size, the flask wasn't a huge reservoir of liquid after all. So, most Players weathered the assault.
They would be the first people to finally see the Child, the NPC I’ve wanted so long to introduce to the Players, and one that I had created with all my might.
Its appearance was that of a child about eight years old, and its coloration was absolutely white in every respect. A pale skin, white hair, and pale gray eyes, add to it its white eyelashes, and he looked like he was glowing from within… Especially considering that the Child really was glowing slightly from within, to further emphasize to the Players that the Child was a ‘good’ aligned NPC.
All the boy's facial features I'd naturally composed guided by my own taste, but in my personal opinion he looked quite beautiful, at the very least memorable. Add its small stature, childish proportions, big eyes, and importantly, bare feet as a detail of his ‘innocence’, and the Child looked exactly as I wanted him to look.
Though I couldn't call him a ‘he’ with complete confidence, considering the child was dressed only in a long shirt extending to his knees. Just in case, I hadn't created any anatomical details in his model, I didn't need to be modeling all sorts of male and female bits, nor is the prospect of getting smacked upside the head by the company.
Better not to test what Players might see during gameplay, accidentally or on purpose.
Adding the Child's sufficiently androgynous appearance and beauty, I was quite confident I'd created the best creation for my best concept about training neural networks. I was fully prepared for all possibilities.
And still turned out completely unprepared.
One of the Players, apparently completely panicking and thus not getting a good look at what was emerging from the flask, didn't wait, and simply thrust his spear forward, driving its sharp point into the Child.
I froze for a moment, staring at this scene, before very angrily sucking in air through my teeth, then no less angrily exhaling it.
The desire to hit the Players with a meteor and calling it a ‘random game event’ had never been this strong before.
