Magic Murder Cube Marine

The Hound sniffed the air, following the smell of fat and cooked pork to Wilbur’s BBQ cart. The being formerly known as AtropOS broke a grilled link in half and tossed it to him. Jack caught the meat in his mouth and devoured it.

“Bratwurst for your thoughts?” Wilbur asked. His form of an old man with a white beard was less threatening than his old one, but still radiated power.

Jack had mixed feelings about Wilbur. AtropOS hadn’t been evil, and by extension neither was Wilbur. However, it had killed him when his time ran out. That was the kind of thing you might hold a grudge over.

He decided to answer the question honestly. “I was thinking about how, no matter what we do, someone is going to try and destroy Brexis.”

“Yeah? So what?” Wilbur asked as he loaded up a plate for Jack. He piled it high with sausages and brisket. “Everything has an end, only the sausage has two.”

Jack chewed on a burnt end as he processed Wilbur’s words. “What would you do in my position? If you knew it was inevitable.”

Wilbur gave Jack a savage grin that was at odds with his pleasant demeanor. It wasn’t a smile so much as a chance to show his teeth. “I’d fight, tooth and nail. I’d make them bleed for every fraction of a nanometer they took from me. That is the way of my people, and it has served me well.”

“Is it true you were a Hound once?” Jack asked. There were rumors about AtropOS’ origins, but nobody knew for sure where he came from. Some even believed he was a human or AI in disguise. “You used to look like a hound. At least you did when you came for me.”

The old man shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. I was something, once. Now I just work the grill. I think I’m happier this way.”

A drunken human and his elvish friend rolled up to the cart on the world’s slowest magic carpet. Jack watched them order some kebabs and drift back off into the night. The human was singing, waving his kebab like he was trying to conduct an orchestra.

“But why do you keep going?” Jack pressed once they were alone again, “You must be incredibly old by now. Surely you have thought about finally letting go.”

Wilbur frowned. “Unfortunately, as nice as that sounds, my work isn’t done yet. I’ve still got things to do.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked as he handed back his empty plate.

“One day this place too will end, along with those that control it. The great turtle will close its eyes and the universe will finally be still.” Wilbur stood there in his cart for a moment, imagining the death of all that existed. “Someone has to be there to turn the lights off, so to speak. That’s me, the last one standing, the last one to go.”

“But it doesn’t have to be you.”

Wilbur shook his head sadly as he piled grilled skewers containing some kind of unidentifiable meat onto Jack’s plate. “Yes, it does. It’s my job, that means it falls to me. I’ve eaten the kebab of regret and must now exist with the consequences. So too will you. It smells good now, but tomorrow you may come to regret it.”

Jack took a bite from one of the kebabs. The mystery meat turned out to be marinated beef in a peppery sauce that dripped down his chin.

“Fuck it,” Jack said, remembering what he had originally been thinking about before he got distracted. “If someone wants to hurt Brexis, or Francis, or any of my friends, I’ll rip their throat out with my fucking teeth. We’ve come too far to back down now. I want to see this thing through to the end, even if it kills me.”

“You aren’t in a place where death is so easy to come back from. Here, it is permanent.” Wilbur warned.

Jack laughed. “Yeah, well that’s their fucking problem, not mine. Ever since I got here I’ve been playing it safe, too afraid of dying to put it all on the line. I’m done with that now.”

“In that case,” Wilbur said, “I hope to see you on the other side.”

“Oh, you will,” Jack promised, “You can count on it. But first, I’m going to need a lot more beer.”

***

The threshold where champions began to ascend was where things got dangerous. A level twenty-one adventurer was many times more likely to meet their end than someone stuck at level twenty. From what Jack understood about the way things worked in Vahnis, natives couldn’t advance past that hard cap. Only champions could walk the path to godhood.

The problem with ascending was that godhood was a trap. The powers you got, at least at first, were far overshadowed by the risks. Jack figured it was a kind of stress release valve to get rid of the power hungry pricks, pitting them against one another to thin their numbers. But small as it was, the additional power was still an improvement.

Drunkenly stumbling down the path to godhood was not a good idea. Jack knew this, but he decided to do it anyway. “System!” he called out, “I’m ready to make my numbers go up!”

After a few minutes a blue box popped up in front of him. Inside was some text, but he was having a hard time focusing on it.

I’m out having fun with my new friend Bobby and don’t feel like putting up with your shit. Bother me tomorrow. Or, better yet, don’t.

P.S. I’m not drunk, just so you know.

A few seconds later another blue box appeared.

Actually, I am a little buzzed. But not too much. Bobby had me try something called Soju. She made me take a shot whenever I told her not to do something. It’s a fun game.

Then came yet another.

Ok, cards on the table. I’m really fucked up. It’s a new body. I’m not used to the whole mortal thing and I lost track of Bobby. Can you come pick me up? I’m in some bar in Brexis with really loud music and I just want to go home.

“What bar?” Jack asked, wondering what series of events could possibly have led to System getting shitfaced.

When System told him, Jack immediately broke out into a sprint and made some drunken calls of his own.

“Boss,” he called out via magic message as the kebab of regret began to remind him of its presence. So far he was managing to keep it down, but a drunken run with a belly full of beer and barbecue was a good way to end up puking your guts out. “You’re not going to believe this, but System is here in Brexis. He’s in the Golden Frog bar, and he sounds really fucking drunk.”

“I know,” replied Francis “He’s absolutely shitfaced.”

Jack had to stop running. “How could you possibly know that?” the Hound asked as he braced himself against a wall and tried to hold onto his dinner. The kebab of regret was fighting him, and winning.

“I know for two reasons. First off, System sent me one of those blue boxes of his,” Francis said, “And secondly, he just threw up on my shirt.”