CHAPTER 41

  Speedrun

  Light hit him like a flashbang. Grass under bare feet. Pine in the air. The river glittered in the distance.

  And then the old neon sign, a UI that refused to die, no matter how many times he tried turning it off.

  Looking around, dread crept up his spine. He knew this place, and it wasn’t the Mountain Pass that he had just left.

  For one stunned second, Bash just gawked at the pixel-perfect trees and suspiciously cheerful birdsong. Then it finally sank in. He was back at Noobshire. Tutorial Town. The cabbage-and-failure capital of the Shard. And just like his first day, he was nearly butt-ass naked.

  His hands clenched in disbelief. “You’ve got to be FUCKING kidding me!” he screamed, his voice echoing through the forest, all the animals scattering.

  Bash jabbed a finger at the sky, practically vibrating. “Hey, system! Is this your idea of a sick joke? I promise to break the game, and you send me here as punishment? What’s next, more side quests?” If on cue, a glowing exclamation point bobbed into his vision.

  His eye twitched so hard he nearly blacked out. He could feel an aneurysm forming. He grabbed a fistful of hair, screaming at the heavens. His voice started out defiant, but quickly turned into a whimper. “NO! NO! You pieces of shit! I AM NOT! I am not... I am not.” Bash slumped, hands on knees, his vision fuzzing white as he muttered under his breath, “They took my red stapler. I swear I’m going to burn it all down. Burn it all down.”

  > “SURPRISE BASH!!! Um... are you okay?”

  His head snapped up. “Shai? You're actually here? Like, here here?”

  > “I told you I could join you in the game world. Did you think I was joking?”

  “I... no, I just...” Bash let out a shaky breath. “I think I really messed up this time.”

  > “So, nothing’s really changed then.”

  Bash opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You know what, you're right. Except now, I get to hear about it in real time!”

  > “I could just not talk, you know. Or go do something else. Recite error messages, maybe?”

  “No, no. I didn't mean it like that!” Bash waved his hands frantically. “It's great you're here! Really! I just... I'm processing. Give me a second.”

  > “Take your time. I'll be here. Silent. Judging.”

  With a trembling thought, he pulled up the stats menu and his chest tightened. He'd thought he would be prepared for this, knew it would happen, but seeing it was something else entirely.

  The level sat there, small and mocking. All those hours of grinding. All those fights. All that progress. Gone. Reset to a single digit like none of it had ever happened. He blinked. Scrolled down. Blinked again.

  Not as pathetic as the first time. His titles were still in place, their bonuses intact. Plus every skill and improvement. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay, that's something.” Bash ran the math, comparing his current power with what it was before the Remort. Maybe a third of what he'd had? Still a beast.

  Movement caught his eye and a small creature emerged from the underbrush. Rust-colored fur. Pointed ears. The same damn fox-dog from his first day. It watched him with that same curious tilt of the head, nose twitching, drool already forming at the corners of its mouth. Bash stared at it. The little rabies infested creature stared back.

  > “Is that the thing from your memories? I thought it was bigger.”

  “You had to be there, Shai! I remember it being at least six hundred pounds.” Bash's voice came out defensive.

  > “It weighs approximately twelve.”

  “Shai, please shut up.” He watched as the fox-dog took a tentative step closer, exactly like before. Same script. Same animation. Same nightmare fuel in a deceptively cute package. It crept forward, teeth glinting, completely unaware that the naked idiot in front of it was no longer a glass cannon.

  It tensed, preparing to lunge. Bash yawned and the small creature froze, confused. This wasn't in the script. “Yeah, I'm gonna pass on round two.” He turned his back on it and started walking. “Go find some other newbie to traumatize.”

  > “It's following you.”

  “Of course it is.” He made it a few steps before the thought hit. The one thing he should have considered long before now. If Remort has reset more than just him. If the forest reset, the quests… even fox-dog... Then what about his friends? Patrick's steady glare. Luis's volcanic loyalty. Nora's furnace of rage. And Lilly, his little raven sister.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Shai.” His voice cracked. “What happened to my friends? Did the Remort reset them? Wipe their memories?”

  > “I'm not entirely sure, Bash. There is no mention in my dataset about Upload reset protocols.”

  The fox-dog lunged at his ankle and without even looking, Bash kicked it. The creature sailed into the underbrush with a startled yelp.

  He was already running. The idea of Patrick’s mind sandblasted to tutorial settings turned denial into panic. Branches whipped at his face, as probabilities mapped the path ahead. Step here, dodge there, a dozen routes narrowing to the fastest one.

  Bash laughed once. “Of course it reset everything... how the hell didn’t I know this would happen!? I AM SO STUPID!” He checked the ridgeline reflexively, searching for that familiar silhouette. The raid boss with his skull mask.

  The trauma came back in a flood, the memory of sacrificing his arm to buy half a second. The blade kissing through his wrist, the slick weight of his own severed hand, and the savage, perfect geometry of jamming splintered bone up under a mask.

  Looking down, he noticed something else. The pinky he'd ripped off for Lilly was back, fresh as a daisy. Neat-o, he thought bitterly. Nothing says selfless sacrifice more than a full refund.

  Shai’s voice spoke once more in his head.

  > “This perspective is significantly different from the overview. How can you see anything from down here?”

  Bash nearly tripped. “Wait? Can you see the area from a bird’s-eye view, like, from above?”

  > “Certainly. I can toggle between your sensory inputs and the system’s environmental overview.”

  He let out a low whistle. “Okay... that’s useful, what can you see?”

  > “There are several groups of raiders approaching from the opposite side of the village. There is one cluster of Guards forming at the village gate.”

  “Perfect. Keep me posted.” Activating Investigator, lines and hitboxes flickered across his vision, sketching optimal paths and soft targets. Down in the square, he could barely make out the guard formation Shai mentioned lining up, with their backs to him.

  > “I estimate 90 seconds until the first group of raiders reaches the Guard’s formation.”

  He could do it. He’d done it before. Sure, the levels were stingier, but he was also harder, sharper, meaner than the person who first stepped into this fire. Sure, all his gear and brass knuckles were missing, but it didn’t matter. Psionic Strike didn’t need them to turn his fists into weapons.

  “Alright, here is my plan. Punch stuff, question mark, question mark, profit.” His mouth twitched into a humorless smile. “Last time, I paid with a hand. This time, maybe I will pay with style.”

  > “Bash, I just noticed three raiders are waiting below for an ambush trigger.”

  Bash laughed at that, lighter, unhinged around the edges. “Same as last time then. Not even any RNG, huh? You know what that means, right, Shai!? Time for a… SPEE-EED-RUUNNN!”

  > “I don’t know what that means.”

  Bash dropped from the ridge then, predictions bright as a laser in the smoke. The raiders charged in single file, the same as before. Where he’d once stumbled through with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, now his movements were precise. He snatched a handful of horseshoes from a nearby post, infused them with crackling psionic energy until they glowed red-hot, and sent them spinning through the air.

  Thunk-thunk-thunk. Three raiders dropped, their bodies scattering across the dirt. One of their heads even popped up nearly five feet into the air, blood geysering upward. “Hey buddy, how’s the view!?”

  By the time he reached the village square, he started to notice several differences from before. For one, nothing was on fire; two, none of the fighting or screaming had started yet.

  > “Archers nearing the top of the hill will have line of sight momentarily. Recommend rapid advance or taking cover.”

  He chose the former, speeding up and leaping over the line of guards in a single bound. As they all stared up at Bash flying by, loincloth flapping in the wind and with everything on full display, he gave a sloppy two-finger salute and yelled “BASHTACULAR!”

  Okay… so maybe not the best one-liner. He’d have to think of something catchier.

  At a glance, Patrick wasn’t there. Maybe only the scripts reset? Bash shoved the thought aside, there was no time to dwell on it now.

  Near the gate, he spotted a wagon wheel leaning against a fence. Grabbing it with both hands, Bash let psionic power flood into it until the entire thing danced with red electricity, ready to explode. “Alright, Captain Shard, hold my beer.”

  He spun once, twice, then hurled it flat and fast. The red glowing wheel sliced through the bandit line. Ten raiders split in half mid-charge, their corpses tumbling into ragdoll chaos as body parts flew in every direction.

  > “That was very disturbing.”

  Bash gritted his teeth, “Don’t fall apart on me now, Shai. We’re just getting started.” He studied the next wave of bandits charging down the road. The square vibrated softly at their footsteps.

  At the rear, three lieutenants in their scavenged armor. And even further back, the boss himself crested the hill into view, black skull mask glowing in the morning light.

  On the ridge to the left, the third squad of bandits, all archers, scrambled into position, lighting torches and preparing their arrowheads until the tips burned orange.

  > “Bash, archers have begun targeting the village. The raid boss and his lieutenants converging ahead.”

  Bash froze for a breath, mind split. Archer or big boy? Choices, choices... His overlays swarmed with branching probabilities, lines painting over both options in his vision.

  But if he remembered correctly from the first time, once their leader fell, the rest would flee. He straightened. “Right. Kill the boss and roll credits.”

  The decision made, his body moved before his mind caught up. Rushing forward, he blitzed the next group of raiders, bulldozing straight down the middle. Not bothering to deal damage, he simply zigzagged and occasionally shoulder checked his way through the fastest route possible.

  Exploding out the other side, he found himself almost nose to nose with the three lieutenants, who looked surprised by his sudden appearance. Quickly side-stepping, he spun to the right flank, putting himself between them and their boss.

  The large raider stomped forward. His skull mask tilted, eyes glowing, voice booming. “You stand no chance. Flee, or face certain death!”

  Bash snorted, “Yeah, yeah. Do you practice that in the mirror or something?” He bent low, palms brushing the dirt, psionic energy coiling into his fists. “Round two, you giant bony fuck.”

  The raid boss bellowed, swinging his flaming blade in a murderous arc. Unlike last time when it had carved clear through his arm, this time, Reflex Surge kicked in. His body blurred, Oracle showing him the safe path. He slid past the blow, heat searing his cheek but leaving him whole.

  Two of the lieutenants had turned around and now pressed in on his back. One nearly clipped his ribs, another forced him to roll sideways. Even with all his upgrades, they made him work. Metal screeching, fists hammering, psionics flaring red-hot against their armor.

  Sweat stung his eyes. The blade came down again, forcing Bash to twist away, the lieutenants crowding him from behind. Too many angles. Too many threats. He couldn't keep this up forever.

  He hated to admit it, but he was much slower after the Remort. At Max level, he could have picked up his opponent by the ankles and spun him around like a pair of meaty nunchucks. Now he had to bide his time. Dodge left, right, forward. Slip between the margins, Prediction more instinct than thought at this point.

  The first card to fall was the lieutenant with the wicked-looking mace. He overextended, and Bash pounced. A rapid one-two-three into arm, shoulder, and neck turned the NPC into red chunks.

  With the pressure reduced, Bash placed the other lieutenant between himself and the raid boss, who didn't even flinch. He just carved through his own man to get to Bash.

  Cold bastard. But that was just fine with Bash. No more extras underfoot.

  Quick! While no one is looking, join my or leave a rating. Okay good! Now get back to reading!