Plotting (Part 2) (Rewritten March 25)
After breakfast, Alan asked Tamara and Marissa to tell him about the various classes in the Novus. Marissa eagerly agreed and led him to the guild's library.
It's called that, but there are no books here.
"Before the Admins introduced the Navinet, we used to get all our info from places like this," Tamara explained as Alan consulted a system screen.
"So, there's an Engineer Class, huh?" Alan muttered. "What do they do?"
"Is that the Class you're interested in?" Tamara moved closer, reading over his shoulder. "Look, it's divided into three subclasses. One specializes in crafting their own custom weapons and armor, one acts as a support, creating healing and boost devices for their team, and one allows the User to build robotic minions to fight for them."
"All of them sound interesting," Alan said, tapping the screen until Marissa's loud groan made him cringe.
"Are you seriously going to waste all day here?" Marissa moaned, upside down in an armchair. "This is your first day in Londorus! You should do something fun instead!"
Tamara shook her head. "Um, Marissa..."
"You know what? I'd love to take a walk around the city," Alan said, looking expectantly at Tamara.
"Londorus is a Safe Zone, Tammie," Marissa insisted.
Tamara pursed her lips, as if battling internally. "F-Fine! But we have to be back before Astrid returns, okay? Remember, you're having dinner with her tonight."
"Yay!" Marissa beamed, jumping out of her seat. "Where should we go first? Maybe we could hit Jack Robins? I'm craving a milkshake."
"I don't know what that is, but sure! Count me in. But before we go, can I copy this Engineer info to my User Interface?" Alan asked.
"You can store it in a book instead!" Tamara chuckled. "There's a 'print' option on the top right corner of the screen. Tap it."
Alan did, and a blue leather book emerged from a slit in the desk. "Cool," he said, snatching it and saving it to his inventory.
"Let's go, then!" Marissa sang, marching toward the exit while pulling Tamara by one arm.
It took them a couple of minutes to reach the front gate. It was easier to ignore the curious gazes of other guild members with Marissa by his side. The young woman marched as though she were the true Guild Master, confident and proud, with Tamara seemingly insignificant beside her. Alan glanced at her; she walked cautiously, as if danger lurked at every corner.
Before they reached the gates that would open up to the bustling city, a familiar redhead blocked their path, appearing as if she had come out of nowhere.
"Hey, guys! Where are you going? What's the hurry?" Amelia asked with a wide smile, taking Alan off guard.
"We're just going to show him around," Marissa replied, giggling. "Would you like something from Jack Robins, sis?"
"Oh, Marissa, you don't have to go that far to get ice cream. There's plenty in the kitchen. Or you could have one of the servants get it for you."
"That's no fun! And the kitchen's ice cream doesn't hold a candle to Jack's!"
"Fine, you have a point," Amelia said in a soft voice before her gaze shifted to Alan. "By the way, weren't you curious about seeing the abilities of a high-skilled warrior?" She tilted her chin, locking eyes with him. "We're about to start a friendly match at one of our gyms. What do you say?"
"That sounds fun, but I promised the girls that--"
"Marissa!" a faint male voice interjected from behind a proud valkyrie statue. Looking back, they saw a nervous Matthew Berstein. "Come. I need to talk to you."
Before Marissa could react, another person approached quickly. "Tamara. Can I have a word with you?"
Alan immediately recognized William, the one who had led him to Marco the night prior. One could never forget someone as huge as him.
"What's wrong?" Tamara asked, walking toward William, seeming tiny in comparison. "Do you need my assistance with something?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." William crouched and whispered something in her ear.
"That's wonderful!" Tamara said, clapping her hands. "Alan, why don't you go with Amelia and watch the match? I'll catch up with you in a moment."
"I second that," Marissa added. "Sorry, but I have to… It won't take long, okay? We'll meet at the gym. What gym exactly?" she asked Amelia while Matthew insistently pulled her by the wrist.
Amelia waved them off. "Don't worry, take your time. We'll have plenty of fun in the meantime." She suddenly grabbed Alan's arm. "Isn't that right?"
And just like that, the group split.
"Later, guys," Alan muttered as he watched them take different paths.
"This way," Amelia demanded, letting go of him and returning to her cold demeanor.
As expected, Alan thought, following her while keeping a modest distance.
"Does Marco want to show me something?" he asked with a sigh.
"You're not as dumb as you look." Amelia snickered. "The answer is yes. We even got you a front-row seat to see one of our brightest members' abilities."
"Can't wait," he muttered as they walked toward a white dome with a large red number 3 on it.
The moment they crossed the entrance, Alan sensed a change in the atmosphere—a heavy, intoxicating air around him.
Numerous signs greeted him with motivational catch phrases about becoming stronger and being the best version of yourself. Mannequins wearing athletic outfits with the logo of a shooting star across their chests lined the walls. The red walls and floor only intensified his senses.
"Come on, people are waiting," Amelia said, abruptly turning into a corridor.
Alan glanced back at the double doors they had left behind, thinking they should've entered there. It read 'Entrance A'.
The narrow corridor curved sharply, the carpet muffling their steps. In the distance, Alan could hear a collective murmur, growing louder. A bluish light marked the end of the road.
"I hope you're ready for this," Amelia said with a mischievous grin as a stage widened in front of Alan's eyes.
They entered a semi-circular ring surrounded by occupied stands. A crowd of more than thirty people cheered as soon as Alan became visible.
He absently kept walking forward, mouth agape. "This place sure is popular, huh."
"What did you expect?" Amelia said, facing him. "They all came to watch their new First Officer in action."
"What was that?"
The voice of Jason Foreman suddenly resonated through the speakers: <
What in the hell is happening? Alan thought, looking around in confusion. The announcer, easily identifiable in his tacky orange suit and monocle, moved between the rows, dancing and enticing the crowd. Alan's eyes then landed on the woman who had brought him here, standing proudly in her spot. No way…
<
Ghost?
"Wait, there's a mistake," Alan said pleadingly, but the crowd erupted in cheers.
"Don't underestimate Amelia or you'll regret it!"
"Show us what you've got! Don't hold back!"
Alan finally understood what he had felt at the entrance. It's the smell of blood, sweat, and competition.
"A-Amelia…" Alan stuttered, lifting his palms. "I thought we were just going to watch a friendly match. Not getting me into one!"
"It's just as you said," Amelia said softly, already equipping a pair of gloves with gems encrusted on the backs of her hands. "This is just a friendly competition."
She's not kidding!
"Goddammit!"
Realizing he had no other choice, Alan began issuing a loud voice command to equip himself, but Amelia was quicker.
"Fire Crafting, Dragonbreath," she intoned calmly. Flames burst from her palm, engulfing Alan in an instant, scorching him from head to toe. The fire reached the audience, but an automated force shield withstood the attack.
Surprised groans and laughs echoed through the dome, turning into cheers when Alan reappeared in the ring, completely intact.
"What the—?!" he gasped.
He fell on his back. A moment ago, he had been engulfed in excruciating pain, his vision blinding red. But now, here he was, revived by the system.
Trembling, Alan glanced at a giant screen to his right that showed his name and a score: Amelia - 1 / Alan - 0.
"Get up," a voice commanded, jolting him. It was Amelia, poised and ready to strike again.
"Wait a—" Alan lost his voice as a raging fire slammed into his face. Moments later, he gasped and fell to his knees. His hands hit the floor, confirming that he had died and been resurrected again.
But the pain…
The pain was still there.