Chapter 384

  Slander of the Highest Order

  (Two Weeks Later)

  (Maltese)

  It felt odd being back home.

  Not my true noted home, not the place I carved for myself out of the middle of a desert, in the middle of a wasteland so vile that no one in their right minds would ever choose to settle down there. But my first true home of this world, a place that took me in unconditionally and let me settle down, find myself and ultimately set me up to become the best version of myself that I could be.

  Maltese, a land that I left before the war truly started. The same place that suddenly felt less like a home once I found out that Golum and Hector had been killed by the Legrand Empire. Their lives just two names in a list of casualties that were swallowed up and spit out by this world.

  Now I am back, representing my new home, that of World’s End, and while it might seem like a contradiction, I feel it is oddly suiting. A beginning and an end all at once. While I originally left as a young girl trying to find herself, gain a class, and come back stronger, only now do I realize I have somehow met all of my childhood goals that I had when I originally set out from here.

  I left as a kid with too much faith in myself to fail. Now I’ve come back, shouldering the faith of others in me to succeed. The level of how my world has changed in a span of a few short years is not lost on me. There was a time when I even managed to sneak in here during the time of war to check on my son. A son who was given a second start in life, still managed to make the same choices even when left alone from my constant nagging and protests. Who even given everything once again, still had to leave just like his father, hopefully this third try at life will be what both need to have a clean start.

  While they left, the rest of us stayed behind. Unlike last time, where my return spoke of a potentially treaty or armistice violation, this time I have returned as an invited participant in a blood sport for ratings.

  Perhaps feeling my mix of emotions, Raygunnr chose this moment to break me out of my own reverie

  “What competition is this one? Quarterfinals or Finals?” Raygunnr asked. I just shrugged.

  “I’m pretty sure this is the Finals, though it likely has a different name by now.” I reply in both mana language and regular. I’m certain that by now everyone watching my stream likely thinks I am crazy. As I no doubt appear to constantly be talking to myself while inside Raygunnr’s cockpit.

  “You could just look at the quest completion logs,” Penelope chimes in, her voice a soothing balm of calming influences on my mind. I just feel so frazzled, as all of my Simulacrums and I have all been pushed to our limits over the past few weeks.

  Espy and Rune-Ulacrums have been on spirit capture duties, grabbing the free-floating spirits of people that have died during the individual rounds, grabbing them and sending them to Heal-Ulacrum to be Resurrected. While the contestants are then considered to be out of the competitions, they are still able to retain their current levels, merits, and abilities. A small comfort, but it means that the people that we are fighting for still have their champions to help protect them from the dangers that are lurking in a game world like this.

  Meanwhile, Raygunnr and I have been forced to run, sprint, and Teleport our way around the world. Which would have been a problem before, as my need to be in a mana rich environment would have made these rounds nearly impossible before. But fortunately, Terra-Ulacrum and the other Simulacrums have been working hard and there were no sections of ground covered that were not already converted by one of my Simulacrums. Meaning I didn’t suffer from any negative effects due to being in a terrible environment.

  For a moment my mind drifts to Terra-Ulacrum, but I still have not had a second to magically reach out and connect to her. There is also the fact that I’ve gotten a few of her thoughts that have managed to bleed through the vastness of space that separates us. I can tell that she is fine and has a new passion project that she desperately wants to complete. Out there, she is all alone, but still finds the strength an perseverance to push through horrors that still cause me to have nightmares when I close my eyes for too long. I still don’t know what she is doing, not fully, but I do know she is a grown version of me and can make her own decisions. Right now, her decision is to stay, meaning I must accept that, just as I had to accept Rob Junionr’s and Robert Senior’s departure from here.

  Fortunately I have friends with me, Raygunnr and Penelope who has come to cheer us on at ever event. Just knowing she is out there, watching and praying for our safe return each contest fills me with the energy and want to continue. Despite how fast this process is, and how it seems to be haphazardly put together with quality as an afterthought to just finishing. With those thoughts on my mind, I finally find the quest notifications related to these Planetary Positioning games, and that’s when I see my current status and progress.

  Those were the two quests that I managed to complete thus far. Then looking forward, I found the still active chain of this questline.

  For the Group requiring Mechanoid Warfare, and Space Group Mechanoid Warfare I only need a minimum of five suits, while my team could house a maximum of ten contestants. In an effort to save time and resources, I have been going with the bare minimum of five.

  My dream team consists of myself, Espy, Rune, Ship, and Pirate-Ulacrums joining with a host of Teleiotís who all volunteered to serve as apparent sacred vessels for my Simulacrums. Each Teleiotís receiving their own form of reverence from the other Teleiotís. I made the mistake of asking Raygunnr how the other Teleiotís were treating him, but he began talking about needing a bigger garage for his future Mechram that he was building and I decided that conversation was over.

  “Huzzah, this is it. Finally after this, we can face some real competition,” Raygunnr cheered, apparently able to read my quest notification thanks to our shared bond that we have been working on improving constantly.

  “You want a real competition?” I ask.

  “Oh come on, we need the competition to be somewhat better if we want ratings. Also, we have that perfect underdog story, that will make us an instant hit with viewers,” Raygunnr added.

  “That is only if we get viewers, apparently ratings are down across the board, and advertisers are pulling out in droves,” Penelope responded.

  As they spoke, I felt a dull ache forming in my head. This was the part that I hated about this entire concept. The fact that the ratings were entirely based on actions not related to what I was doing at all. Yet, these two continued to talk about these subjects that we have absolutely no control over. Ratings, Viewership, money, all words that I could not influence. With such thoughts, I found my mind drifting away from these two and their debates on external politics. Not just politics related to this world, the world that was real and tangible, but to an external world that felt more like a dream than actual reality at this point.

  That’s when I let my mind drift out, and found our section. Well the section for people from the Midnight Hunters. As always, Mallory and Gwen were squared away, showing off multiple sets and stages to various people. Offering relocation jobs, educational benefits, and they even had a booth for the Seventh Life Writers Club set up. That would be the one booth that would have drawn me in, and a booth that I would go to right now, had I not been waiting for my time next battle to take place.

  Just seeing that stand, I could imagine the crisp intoxicating smell of new books, all holding new stories with different ideas all waiting to be read.

  Seeing that stand, I realize that is the real reason why I am here. The real reason that I want to compete in these games, not for myself. Not truly, but for the lives of those who are at their end. The Seventh Life Writers Club is not just a place for writers, it is a last bastion of hope. A place where writers can go despite their circumstances and try to eek out a living by providing hope and life to this world thanks to their stories.

  It is not lost on me that the booth for the Seventh Life Writers Club, or SLWC is right next to the SVC admissions table. I don’t know how Mallory did it, but Mallory somehow got Rahul De’Gravitas to represent the school. Granted he was the only other certified teacher employed by SVC, other than myself. I had plans of getting Jhony and Penelope both signed on as faculty as well, but only after these Planetary Positioning games were over.

  Seeing Rahul, I make the off-hand comment, “how long before I can get you to act as a recruiter for SVC, like Rahul over there?”

  My question is multi-pronged, as first it is designed to get the conversation away from politics, especially external politics as I hate politics. Second, it can help me gauge just how interested Penelope would be in being a faculty member at SVC with me.

  Yet, I am completely thrown off my game when Penelope replies with a “no, that’s not why he is here.”

  Hearing her, I do a double take, before I ask, “then why is he here?”

  There is a pause as Penelope looks like she is trying to find a nice way to phrase whatever she will say next. Finally, she just replies, “well he is here supporting the SLWC.”

  Clearly, Penelope is telling the truth as she would not be this awkward otherwise, but that is fine. I didn’t want more students anyways, but there is just one problem. That problem being that Penelope’s face seems to imply that there is more here than she is letting on. That said, helping out writers is a good thing, and even if he was here to try to get free autographed copies of books I don’t see a problem. Especially as that is exactly what I would be doing if I was Rahul and not signed up for life or death blood sports.

  As we sit there, I can hear the high pitched nasally speech of a necromancer using both voice amplification runes and runes that seem to try to do the equivalent of autotune. The only problem is that there is clearly a slight resonance issue with the layering of his runes that causes a minute amount of magical feedback that all but screams fingers on a chalkboard to my enhanced senses. Worse, his words are equally cringeworthy.

  "I like to think that I help put the romantic and Rahul into necromantic ritu-ahuls," Rahul De’Gravitas states, his body glowing with a sickly green aura that is reserved for the most powerful of liches. Hearing him talk, I can only think back to the stories of his youth, ones from before he gave his life to rune working and necromancy. Back when he was the alleged lead of Rahul and the Maiden, but I still have a hard time believing such deceptions myself. He had to have stolen credit for those stories from someone else.

  “That’s right, in GlitterBright three, you get to see how my Rahul bravely confronts the conclave of necromancers to save the virtuous Pixie Princess from the corruption of others,” a female voice calls out, as she lovingly strokes the back of Rahul. Her voice is also amplified by the same set of layered runes, but there is a stark difference as she doesn’t have the lack of a nose that causes the high-pitched wisp that coats everyone of Rahul’s words. For a moment, the two look like a loving, if awkward couple. A living breathing female with wild curvy hair, lovingly holding Rahul close with one hand while she holds up a book in her other.

  As she holds up the book, I realize instantly who this strange female is, if for nothing else than the words on the book.

  Seeing the book and badly worded pun, I instantly know who this person is, and that they are holding up what has to be her third story written in complete slander about me.

  The writer is none other than Susan Whittle, author of GrimDark a story about shiny werewolves falling in love. A series I had to force myself to read in between work and caring for four kids, so that I might be able to make a connection with Gwen before she followed her holder brother Rob Jr. and his increasingly self destructive decisions.

  Hearing Susan speak, I instantly know her and hate her, even though this is only the third or so time we have actually met. I apparently had the bad fortune of saving her back a few years ago, when I was saving hundreds of refugees, and the real members of the SLWC. Back before she chose to show her gratitude by slandering me.

  “The Pixie Princess is of course based on none other than our beloved queen of the ring, Dr. Cassiopeia Spiritlight, champion of both Regionals and the Hemispherical qualifiers, and now our best hope for the Planetary qualifiers!” The excessively proud author shouts, holding up her book and somehow actually getting people to come up and purchase the books based on this complete slander.

  Bleh!

  I vomit glowing pixie bile everywhere.

  “Ugh, sorry about that,” I reply wiping my lip before casting a quick dose of Cleanse on the cockpit.

  “No, it is oddly not that discomforting,” Raygunnr replies, letting me feel somewhat better, before he continues. “In fact, it almost feels good. Like a nice warm coffee being piped right into your very core. Filling you full of energy and letting you know you are alive.”

  “Eww, just stop talking,” is all I can manage to reply with. Then thinking about people that should also stop talking, I turn my attention towards Rahul and his new fling of the week, Susan Whittle. Though I guess fling of the week is a bit harsh as they have been together for a few months at this point, but still the idea of blatant slander tying me to Rahul is disgusting.

  “Everyone knows of the special place that my Rahul has in the heart of the Doctor. How she made it rich and managed to generate enough money to send all of her grandchildren and great grandchildren through college in the real world, now you can see how their love unfolds once they both emerge from the darkness and reveal their true feelings for each other in GlitterBright III!” Susan shouts out, her voice echoing and booming so that everyone in the arena can hear her, thanks to the dual layered runic array system. I do have to give Rahul credit, while he is terrible about understanding how annoying his own voice is, he can do wonders on getting people like Susan to sound amazing, even when they are only shoveling manure at people.

  Seeing that this might actually be successful if I don’t step in, I do the one thing I promised I would never do. I try to stop a writer, from spreading their work and effort to others. Yet, I cannot let this stand.

  “This is SLANDER!” I shout out, my voice booming and echoing over the entire crowd. For a moment everyone looks around confused for a second, not realizing that my taking over a magical runic array, particularly one that was open to the public like this was child’s play for me.

  “How is it so?” Susan smiles, a born saleswoman and likely someone who believes that no publicity is bad publicity. Seeing her smile I falter, knowing that I have to give some evidence. “We all know that you couldn’t stop singing my Rahul’s praises before, and now you want us to think that you have somehow changed?”

  She was goading me, and worse, I knew it was working. I could feel myself getting angry at the sheer audacity of having this brought up, that’s when I decided to answer truthfully.

  “It’s a lie, as I could never love Rahul,” I reply.

  “Really? That’s not what—” Susan continues, but I cut her off, my mind saying the first thing that comes to mind.

  “It’s a lie and I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  “For my heart already belongs to. . .”