Class-A Threat (Disgardium Book #1) LitRPG Series Page 2

  "Exactly," the teacher nodded. "And who knows what a phoenix looks like?"

  Silence. Knowing Mr. Kovacs, it was better to answer. Otherwise we could end up sitting here for half an hour.

  "The phoenix is a mythological bird that can burn itself up and rise from the ashes," I said. "The first written mention of the phoenix myth is found in Herodotus."

  "I appreciate your knowledge of mythology, Alex, but I was asking about the currency. The phoenix doesn't have a material form. It is a digital currency, independent of economic and political considerations. In the same year, another important change took place in society..."

  He had moved on to the mandatory citizenship tests. Ours would be coming soon enough. And Greg touched on the pitiful existence noncitizens were shackled to, the fact that they outnumbered citizens, and that they were dying en masse, abandoned and forgotten by society... But by the end, no one was listening anymore. For the last seconds of our extra minutes, we were drumming on our desks and shouting out a countdown:

  "Three! Two! One!"

  The thunder of every chair scooting back at once drowned out our homework assignment and the date of an upcoming test.

  The Dementors were the first out of class, driven on by Ed. They took Disgardium seriously, because they saw it as their future. Snowstorm Incorporated, the developer, was the first company to ever pay people to game.

  And since then, it is the most widely played full-immersion game on earth, even receiving certification from the United Nations itself. And now, it was where noncitizens and underqualified citizens spent their days and earned their money. For many, it was the only way to improve their lot in life.

  But definitely not for me.

  It had been a year and a half since I first loaded up Dis. I remember thinking I was very clever investing equally in all attributes. How wrong I was! That gave me a character with piss-poor damage and dispiriting aim. I was hardly fit to live. Unfortunately, even though I had read a few guides before my first session, I never read the best way to make a new character. I knew that every level would give me five attribute points so I figured, if anything was wrong, I could just fix it in no time at all. Gaining just a few levels seemed trivial.

  But it wasn't all puppies and rainbows. Bots were in no rush to give me quests, and farming mobs turned out to not only be tedious but difficult!

  Level-one rats refused to be easy farming, and took me down in a couple of bites every time. I had to land ten or so blows, constantly swinging, just to take down one. And that was if I had someone holding the rat for me.

  And when I joined a group with beginners like me, those drips of experience turned into mere dewdrops. When I realized that, my enthusiasm was extinguished. And this wasn’t exactly an uncommon experience. Some just stopped playing, others opted for social quests.

  But leveling like that was hopelessly boring and never-ending. Just to get one experience point, for example, you had to spend a few hours doing social labor like cleaning stables or pulling weeds. Half a year in the game to get a couple levels? Oh nether!

  And one day I quit the game, but the next I was inspired by the success of a few classmates and entered again with new hopes and plans. But the longer I played, the more disenchanted I grew.

  At the beginning, I couldn’t get any equipment, armor or weapons. The lowliest knife in the weapons store cost a few silver, and I’d have had to complete fifty social quests to get just one silver coin. Fight rats with my bare hands? Ha! Those things were so big they’d have the upper hand on a rottweiler IRL! And even if I could kill one, the reward was just one experience point, maybe two if I got really lucky.

  So in the end I just couldn’t stand it. After a few weeks trying every which way to level, my experience bar was no more than five percent full. I didn't even hit level two.

  For some reason known only to the developers, it was impossible to delete a character and create a new one from scratch in sandboxes. Maybe that was to make us take more responsibility for our decisions.

  Meanwhile, I was disgusted by the idea of spending real money on the game both then and now. I mean, I knew how hard up my parents were for cash. It wasn’t like basic gear would cost some astronomical amount but, by the time I considered it, Dis had already lost its charm to me.

  Sure, at first it was fun to explore a totally new world with its own laws, rules, geography, history and races. It even had different physics, given both magic and teleportation were possible.

  But that was only truly enthralling for the first few days. Weeding or respawning time and again after the fatal bite of some overgrown spider? No thanks.

  What was more, my heart yearned for outer space. The first settlements were being made on Mars, and it seemed to me that exploring a real new world was somewhat more interesting than a virtual one. I greedily devoured any materials I could find about space expeditions, studied the requirements for getting into university and prepared for exams. My parents supported my ambitions too, and had set aside some money aside for my studies.

  But I still had to play Dis. And every day.

  From the age of fourteen, everyone was required to spend at least one hour per day in the game. Snowstorm Inc.’s long tendrils reached deep into the UN Department of Education. Now it was thought to be an important part of a child’s education, providing necessary social skills and preparing us for adult life whether in the real world or Disgardium.

  Every day was exactly the same for me there. I usually spent the whole hour sitting on a bench opposite the Bubbling Flagon tavern. Just after I entered the game, the neighbor girl Eve O'Sullivan would come join me. She couldn't stand even a hint of pain, so she didn’t find the game much fun either. And for that reason, she would sit around killing time with me.

  The sooner we got to our citizenship tests the better. After that, I could be done with this onerous requirement.

  With that thought in mind, I hurried to leave school. Our parking lot had a limited number of public flying cars, and if you didn't manage to get one on the first go around, you'd have to wait for one to come back.

  And that's just what happened. Or more accurately, one of the last ones still had an empty seat, but I wanted one to myself so I could drive it manually.

  The school lot was on the roof, next to a solar panel array. Eve was sitting there. She always waited for me so we could fly home together. Her father's business was really taking off, but they were still in our apartment complex.

  "Alex!"

  Eve's face lit up. I might have thought she liked me, but that didn't do anything for me. She was sweet, but not at all to my taste. Plus she didn’t mind her figure, eating chocolate bars in quantities that far surpassed Department of Health guidelines.

  "How was your day?"

  "Like normal, Eve. Two periods of ethics of modern society, two of programming domestic robotics and two of modern history. Dullsville."

  "Oh god! I never understood why we need history!" she shouted. Then she changed her voice, trying to parody Greg's distinctive manner of speaking. "The last president of the United States..."

  "Mhm."

  Eve got distracted and started thinking. I threw off the backpack and sat down next to her. All the flying cars were gone, so we would have to wait here at least ten minutes. Then a tarry column of acrid bitumen shot up into the air from the asphalt of the launch pad.

  "That damned Dis again," she sighed. "When are you gonna play today? Right after you eat like normal?"

  "Mhm. The sooner I start, the sooner I can finish. Then I can do whatever I want."

  "So, what would you rather be doing?" Eve asked, emphasizing the word "rather.” She even attempted a languid tone, drawing out the last word and cocking an eye.

  Aw, nether! Flirting was definitely not her strong suit. Where had she seen that move? Nevertheless, I was caught off guard.

  "Probably not what you had in mind," I answered with a smile. I didn't want to offend her, she was a great girl and I had know
n her since childhood. "I'll be studying materials on the Leman expedition to Mars."

  "I see. I just thought... Maybe you'd want to..."

  "What?" I didn't want to embarrass her, but it was better to break this off before it turned into an upwelling of unjustified hope.

  "Maybe... Maybe we could watch it together?" she blurted out in one breath.

  "Sorry, not today. My parents are working on a new project, I don't want us to distract them."

  I tactically said "us," although I meant only her. My father and mother had finally gotten an easy order, but the client was fickle and it was best to keep risks to a minimum. Money had been tight for us recently.

  Dad suspected mom was having an affair, which was driving him more and more to the bottle. And when he drank he got paranoid, suspicious and aggressive. Mom, of course, didn’t like that. And so she left home on the sly and came back around morning. I definitely think she’s seeing someone.

  Their constant fighting ruined my mood so much I didn’t even want to do my homework. And that was a problem. To get into university, I need high average points.

  "We can watch it at my place," Eve wouldn’t relent.

  "We can talk about that later," I answered, hoping that by then her spark would have gone out.

  Flying cars began returning to the parking lot. We got into one, and I gave a nod to Eve:

  "So, are you flying, or the computer?"

  "Me."

  I changed steering to manual and took off into the air. Flying... what could be better? Only the stars.

  Chapter Three. Bad News

  AFTER EATING, I went on Dis. Eve and I sat on the bench across from the Bubbling Flagon tavern which was, by the way, the only one in all of Tristad. We just chatted and looked around.

  The city had a rhythm all its own. Players ran around willy-nilly, coursing between the market square, bank and the auction. There was so much noise that, twenty minutes after loading, I truly wished I could know what it was like to be deaf. Everyone around was screaming, arguing, negotiating, inviting people to groups and just-formed clans.

  The energetic whooping of criers and barkers for local merchants and craftsmen cut into the din. Maneuvering between them all was a challenge with my low attributes. Couriers and other low-level players were darting here and there, carrying out social quests for the city.

  And they all ignored the red-faced town drunk Patrick, just pretending that he didn't exist. That's how much he bothered everyone. That unlovable bot was always begging for a copper. Yet there were rumors that if you cranked your reputation with him up to max, you could get some legendary quest. But few had tried because, at a rate of one rep per copper, it was too steep for most noobs.

  A bit further down the street some restless gnomes were causing a ruckus with a group of dignified dwarves. Even from so far away, I could tell that they were negotiating to buy some new gnomish invention, and both were driving a hard bargain. A city guardsman was standing at the entrance to the tavern watching passersby like a hawk...

  By the way, in the sandbox taverns players were only served cream beer. No alcohol! Explicit language was bleeped and penalized with experience points, too. What was more, it wasn’t even possible to get fully undressed here. Instead of sex organs, we all had... nothing down there. Like a child's doll.

  Too bad, of course. I had no problems with girls, but the very thought of something greater than a normal conversation made me twitch. I would not have said no to a bit of practice.

  Just so you know, that does not apply to Eve O'Sullivan though. Not one bit. Though based on her chosen nick, Aphrodite, she may have had a different opinion. Still, I couldn’t discount the possibility that she simply didn't know who that was.

  When I did dream of taking it further than a chat, it was always with Tissa Schafer. And it just so happened that she was walking on the other side of the street with Ed and the other guys from the clan just then. They were talking loudly and laughing.

  Based on how they were barely moving their legs, they were all encumbered and heading to auction on the market square, to the smith or to a merchant stall to get rid of all their loot before another raid. They probably didn't have anything of value, maybe just a hunk of rusty scrap from the mine of the hyena-like gnolls. That was not the most complicated instance, but it had to be done before raiding the dungeon of the man-eating ogres where they were going. And maybe they were planning to go run the new ins in the Olton Quarries, which everyone was talking about in school...

  "Does she have to shake her thighs like that?" Eve asked in annoyance, looking at Tissa.

  I led my gaze over Melissa's tall and well-proportioned figure, wrapped in the short white dress of a priestess of Nergal the Radiant, the main deity in this world. At the very least it was the god with the most adherents, and thus faith points. I couldn't look away. It was a captivating spectacle, and only Eve's look of admonishment in the corner of my eye made me stop leering at Tissa Schafer's backside.

  Here all characters were an exact copy of the people who played them but, in the real world, Tissa never wore clothes like that. There she usually loafed around in oversized pants and baggy hoodies. So I could only admire her here. And that was the only thing I liked about this game.

  Of all the players I knew in Tristad, only she and Ed "Crawler" Rodriguez had become mages. Magic was an inalienable part of the world. In theory anyone here could master it, but it cost unspeakable sums of cash to learn. A tome of basic magic of any school cost at least ten thousand gold! That was approximately the same number of phoenixes, about the same as a flying car.

  But neither of them bought any tomes. Tissa randomly found a quest object that brought her on a long chain where the final reward was light magic training in the Temple of Nergal the Radiant.

  And Ed got the fire magic class supposedly after finding a tome as loot in an instance. Either fate had been kind to him, or he was just entitled to the loot as the clan leader. I didn't know for sure.

  "I'm bored," said Eve, looking at me demandingly.

  "Do you want to take a walk around town?"

  "Not really," she shook her head, and I understood that I had guessed wrong. But I wasn't going to play her naïve little flirting game.

  "Then let’s please just sit quietly."

  Eve went silent.

  I would gladly have read something, but there was no way to bring stuff in here. This was a medieval fantasy world, where the highest technology available were primitive powder guns made by the gnomes and dwarves. So I'd have to read, or more accurately, reread the in-game encyclopedia: "Gnomes provide the dwarves with various kinds of powder weapon: rifles, muskets and even cannons. And they do not disdain steam power either, among other sorts of technology..."

  Boring. Why should I care about steam power in the modern age, when humanity had already begun colonizing the Solar System?

  Damn, time was drawing on so long! Too bad I couldn't break up the required hour per day into several sessions. That was for health reasons. It was thought to be harmful to the psyche, constantly changing between realities. There were recorded cases when people didn't properly adapt after a virt session. In the game, they rakishly carry heavy two-handed words, but in the real world they were weaklings, which at times led people to overestimate their abilities and injure themselves.

  Feeling bored, I once again opened the interface menu and looked at my profile:

  Scyth, level-1 human

  Real name: Alex Sheppard.

  Real age: 15.

  Class: not selected.

  In sandboxes, you had to show your real name and age. It was thought to cultivate a sense of responsibility in schoolchildren for their behavior in the game. In the first few years, only your nick was shown in your profile and you could generate any appearance.

  That was a truly blessed time for dorks and losers, who took revenge on their real-life bullies in the game. Then a wave of parent outrage swept the globe and, after brief discussion,
real names were added to sandbox profiles and characters were required to look like their IRL counterparts. The next day, almost none of those gankers came to school…

  Eve stood up. She probably wasn’t mad. She always forgave me for stupid jokes.

  "Where are you going?"

  "I'm sick of sitting here," she answered, turning. "Wanna go take a walk?"

  I also stood up and we headed to the city gates. On the way I remembered that, five minutes earlier, I had suggested we take a walk and she had refused. Girls...

  Mills, the gate guard, tossed us a passing gaze and gave a signal to his partner:

  "Let them pass!"

  For the next few seconds we waited patiently for the gates to open enough to get through, then we left the city limits. Eve said something about a gift her parents were getting for her birthday, but I was barely listening.