Grand Game 233: A Questionable Future (Patreon)

…

Illusion deactivated.

The air before me shimmered, transforming into a glittering wall of towering ice that marched off in both directions. Yelping in surprise at the wall’s sudden appearance, Snow and the other wolves danced backwards.

I, though, stood frozen in place, still flabbergasted.

“Un-blood-believable,” I repeated, unable to think of anything else to articulate my…

Anger? No, that was too mild.

Rage? Not that either.

Towering fury? Perhaps.

Another Game message flashed for attention. Ignoring it, I turned slowly about and measured the distance between the newly-appeared ice walls and where I thought the exit portal to be.

One hundred yards.

One hundred measly was all that separated the two.

I sat down, a stupefied expression on my face. My time in this sector could have been measured in minutes or hours, not months!

But for a hundred yards.

Flinging myself backward into the snow, I stared unseeing into the gray snow. A hundred yards. A giggle escaped me. Then another. It blossomed into a cackle—a chortle—a guffaw—before transforming into a maniacal howl. With my sides heaving and tears rolling down my face, I curled up on my side. I kept laughing, unable to stop.

A face appeared over me. Snow. His eyes bright with concern, the alpha licked my face.

My black mirth subsided.

Ah, but for the Game’s cruel joke, I would never have met Snow, or any of the other wolves. And despite everything that had happened, I realized I wouldn’t change anything—even if I could.

I rose to my feet, embarrassed by my lapse. Wiping my eyes dry, I regained my composure. “I’m alright now, brother.”

With Snow brushing my side, I moved forward and inspected the ice wall. It curved away in three directions—left, right, and up—and was more properly a dome. It looked inches deep and blisteringly cold. Even in the freezing temperatures of the tundra, the dome gave off its own waves of cold.

Reaching out, I laid a hand on its surface again, prompting the previously ignored Game message to reappear.

Do you wish to retract the barrier formed of ice? Taking down the barrier will release the blizzard trapped within its heart and thaw the inhabitants inside.

Interesting, I thought. The dome’s design was another detraction from the previous two levels. It seemed I would have to take down the barrier to get to the boss, not the other way around. But then again, nearly everything about this sector has been unusual.

And what did the Game mean by ‘thaw’ and ‘blizzard?’ Both sounded ominous. I need to better understand what I’m facing before deciding anything.

Replying in the negative to the Adjudicator’s question, I stepped back from the barrier. With the curious wolves sniffing at my heels, I paced a slow circuit around the dome. “How big is that, do you think?” I asked Snow when I was done. “Eighty yards in diameter?”

The alpha just stared back at me, having no conception of human measurement.

I chuckled. Alright, maybe I haven’t entirely recovered from my episode.

Leaning forward, I placed my palms against the dome and peered inside. The ice wasn’t opaque but  nor was it translucent. Everything inside appeared hazy. I frowned. Was that because of the trapped blizzard? Or an effect of the ice walls?

Still, despite the blurriness, I spotted multiple conical shapes within the barrier. They were all of uniform shape. Suspecting what they may be, I opened my mindsight.

“Wow,” I breathed.

In just the small section of the dome that my mindsight reached there were over a dozen consciousness. Curiously, though, their mindglows were dull and subdued. It was almost as if they were… dormant. Hmm.

Reaching out with my will, I analyzed some of the closest.

The target is a level 143 yeti grunt.

The target is a level 151 yeti berserker.

The target is a level 162 yeti chieftain.

The target is a level 172 savant adept.

Removing my numb hands from the ice, I rubbed life back into them while I considered what I’d discovered. I had no doubt now that I’d found the savant sector boss and his minions. But where was the exit portal?

Walking ten yards along the rim of the dome, I pressed my face against the ice once more.  Then I did it again another ten yards farther.

I kept at it, intent on circling the entire dome as many times as necessary. Until I found the gateway and had an accurate count of the waiting enemies, I wasn’t going to stop.

~~~

One savant and one hundred and three yetis.

That was my final tally. I’d found the gateway too. I’d spotted the familiar glint of light at the far end of the dome and, after straining my eyes to squint at it for a while, had managed to analyze it.

The target is a one-way nether portal from sector 107 to sector 108.

So, I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for all this time, I thought as I sat down heavily in the snow. Boss and exit both.

What did I do about it though?

Did I do as the Game bade and lower the barrier?

One hundred yetis and a savant were a helluva lot of hostiles—too many for me to defeat alone.

My eyes drifted to the pack. Always quick to grab what rest they could when an opportunity presented itself, the wolves lounged in the snow. The pack would fight if I asked, no doubt. But how many would be lost in the battle?

Half, at least. More, probably.

I swallowed. I couldn’t do that to them.

Then there was the question that had been staring me in the face, but I’d been steadfastly ignoring: What happened when it came time to leave the sector? Did I take the pack with me?

There was nothing stopping the wolves from following me to the next sector, but would letting them do that be wise? I had no idea what awaited me on the fourth and fifth levels. How many of the pack would die there?

And even assuming any of the wolves survived the dungeon, what then?

Nexus was a closed sector. I wouldn’t be able to get the wolves out of the city, and the streets of Nexus were no place for them. Protecting the pack from the hordes of players—who would only see them as an easy opportunity for experience—would be impossible. I bowed my head, finally accepting what I’d known to be true all along, no matter how much I might rail against it.

The pack could not go with me.

They would have to stay.

But do I have to leave?

Unequivocal assent.

I glanced at Snow. The pack alpha met my gaze unflinchingly. He’d been following my thoughts, I knew. I’d made no attempt to shield my mind, realizing I had to be honest with both myself and him about the future.

“I could stay…” I began.

No, Snow projected, refuting me forcefully. Images of the dire wolves, Saya, and even Cara and Kesh appeared in my mind. It was Snow’s way of reminding me that I had responsibilities beyond the pack.

He was right too. I rose to my feet. “I’ll go.”

A sense of rightness emanated from the alpha. It was the Wolf’s way he seemed to say. But despite the alpha’s desire to appear stoic, sadness colored his thoughts too. And buried even deeper beneath that was also grief.

Snow ruthlessly squashed both emotions, but not before I’d sensed them. The sadness was for our parting. The grief though… that was for the pups that were and those that would never be. Snow feared that once I left the pack would not be able to nurture any more of their young.

“No, brother,” I said, shaking my head. “Don’t fear that. I may need to go, but I will not abandon the pack.”

Turning my back on the ice dome, I returned to my sled and tugged it into motion. “Come, there is something I must see done first.”

~~~

I spent another week crossing the tundra, meticulously documenting the way back to the exit as I did. When I judged we were far enough from the entrance portal that no future dungeon parties would stumble upon the pack, I called a halt.

Then, I got building.

On the way here, I’d thought long and hard on what the pack needed to survive the tundra. It was not me. The wolves were capable hunters already. No, what they required was shelter—a refuge from the freezing nights and a den to raise their pups.

So, that’s what I built.

First, I constructed an oversized igloo, one reinforced with bones—lots of bones—insulated with fat and lined with furs. I used every bit of knowledge I’d accumulated over the two-hundred odd days I’d spent on the tundra, employed every building trick I’d learned, and utilized every feasible source of building material.

When it was complete, I was sure that nothing, not even the wildest tundra storms, would destroy the igloo. I wasn’t done yet, though. After the first igloo, I built a whole series of smaller ones. They would serve as birthing dens and as backup in case anything untoward happened to the central igloo.

Lastly, I packed all the meat I’d accumulated in snow and showed the wolves how to bury the excess food from their own kills to serve as a stockpile for leaner times.

When I was done, I stood back and surveyed the fruits of my labor. Spread out before me were nearly two dozen igloos—a village in the making. It will suffice, I thought in satisfaction.

“What do you think?” I asked, turning to Snow. “Will the pack be able to make a home here?”

Emphatic agreement.

“It’s no more than you and the others deserve,” I murmured. “I only wish I had better materials to work with. Then, I could have—”

I broke off.

Game messages were tumbling heedlessly through my mind.

You have completed the hidden task: Establish a new Pack! You have forged the scattered refugees of sector 107 into a true pack, providing them with shelter, food, and the means to raise their young safely. Thanks to your efforts, the tundra has become a real home to the arctic wolves, and they will henceforth thrive in the sector. Wolf is pleased.

Your Wolf Mark has deepened!

Your Wolf Mark has deepened!

Congratulations, Michael! Your Wolf Mark has advanced to Pack-Hunter. Hunters are protectors and providers of a pack and valued members within any pack hierarchy. Most wolfkind will accord you the respect this Mark demands, and welcome you with open arms into their ranks.

As a result of your new Wolf Mark, your Class trait, nightwalker, has evolved to wolfwalker!

“Well,” I grinned. “That’s an unexpected bonus.”

A smile tugging on my lips, I scanned the alerts again, studying each avidly, especially the one describing the change to my nightwalker trait.

Your deepening Wolf Mark has brought more of your lupine heritage to the fore, granting you the trait wolfwalker. This trait enhances your senses not just in the dark but in all environments. From this moment on, your senses will be akin to a wolf’s and sharper than most players.

My smile deepened. My acute senses had saved me more than once while sneaking in the dark. To have them enhanced all-round, that was a more powerful benefit than was apparent at first glance.

So caught up was I in my musings that I almost missed what the pack was doing. But eventually, I noticed that wolves—many more than usual—were gathering around me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, turning my gaze outwards and looking at Snow worriedly.

He didn’t answer.

“Snow?”

Still no response.

More wolves streamed in to join the burgeoning ranks. Wrenching my gaze away from the alpha, I turned my attention to the rest of the pack.

Standing stiff-legged and three lines deep, they formed a large circle around me. What’s more, I realized with a start, every wolf in the pack was accounted for, even the pups. Now, what’s gotten into them?

Before I could question Snow again, the alpha raised his head and howled.

Immediately, the cry was taken up by the rest of the pack.

“Snow…” I began uncertainly.

My words ran down as the pack’s actions triggered another flurry of Game messages.

Snow has relinquished the title of alpha!

By unanimous accord, the pack has proclaimed a new alpha!

Congratulations, Michael! You are now the pack alpha of the arctic wolves of sector 107!

I blinked in astonishment. I didn’t want this. I hadn’t asked for this. “No, no,” I protested, raising my palms in denial. “Snow, don’t do—”

You have completed the hidden task: Become an Alpha!

Earning the trust and respect of a pack is no easy thing. Wolf packs are notoriously independent, and even House titles and Marks will sway them only so far. Through your actions, you have earned the undying loyalty of the arctic wolves. As a result, the pack has seen fit to declare you their alpha.

Your Wolf Mark has deepened!

Congratulations, Michael! Your Wolf Mark has advanced to Pack Alpha.

The transition from pack hunter and alpha is small but significant, and it is one that most scions fail to make, even after a lifetime of trying.

The Alpha Mark cannot be achieved by completing any number of tasks. Nor can it be bequeathed or granted by any player or Power. There is only one way to earn the title of Alpha, and that is by pack proclamation.

Alphas are leaders amongst wolfkin—sometimes beloved, oftentimes feared. The Mark is a stepping stone, one necessary to climb through the ranks of House Wolf. Without it, a scion will never amount to anything more than a House follower, but with it… With it, he may become one of the House’s elite and perhaps one day even aspire to Prime.

But beware that while the Mark will compel instant obedience from most wolfkin, other alphas are likely to see you as a threat. Tread warily amongst them.

As a result of your new Wolf Mark, you have earned the new Class trait: arctic wolf! This trait increases your Constitution by +5 ranks, your  Mind by +2, and your Strength by +3.