4.14
“Theme music does wonders. I personally listen to a mixture of Metal and Rock when I enter a murderous rage.” - Remag the Bardzerker.

 

With barely a grunt, Naukoth lifted the piano with a single hand.

 

“Hey, Decs?” I called out to my other.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Everyone except for Utoqa wordlessly gawked in awe as the orc easily shouldered the grand piano. “How much does a grand piano weigh?”

 

“Why- Holy shit!”

 

Understandable reaction.

 

“Ok, I’m googling it… Holy- three hundred to five hundred KILOGRAMS!?”

 

Strength: >30

 

“Jesus Christ,” Noam exclaimed.

 

The orc smiled as he shouldered the piano between his shoulder and forearm. It clearly didn’t even bother him, as he gave a thumbs up with his free arm. “I’m ready.”

 

“Does that piano have some kind of magic lessening its weight?” I asked.

 

“Nope,” the orc chuckled, clearly drinking in our shock.

 

“Erm, let’s go then…” I muttered. Turning around. The rest fell in step behind me, though they slowly overtook me. Naukoth, being well over two metres tall had naturally long strides no matter how much he was encumbered, which he clearly wasn’t, as he was holding a goddamn five hundred kilogram piano like he was a waiter serving drinks.

 

“Lemme guess, you didn’t actually expect him to be able to lift that?” Declan asked, to which I didn’t bother to answer. He was right after all.

 

“What’s the human weight lifting record?”

 

“Six hundred kilograms if you count purely genetic modifications. Eight hundred if you also count cybernetic. But-”

 

“None of them did it easily,” I interrupted. If that piano weighed as much as it should, then Naukoth would be leagues ahead of anything a normal human can accomplish. Was this due to him being an orc or could anyone reach that strength here?

 

“The existence of our stats is in favour of the latter.”

 

“Indeed. We both saw the base human stat block.” Humans started at eleven for all stats. If they invested all their three stat points into a single stat, then they would reach thirty by level eight.

 

“Of course racial benefits exist as well,” he added, “It’ll only take three more levels for you to hit thirty Wisdom.”

 

“Though we’re a bit forced into that aren’t we?” I quietly muttered.

 

Celine glanced at me, having fallen behind next to me.

 

“Just mumbling to myself,” I answered. Technically the truth. While it was nice to be able to know all your teammate’s abilities, there wasn’t the pressing requirement to go all the way with a P.U.G. All you really needed to do was establish a baseline.

 

“Oh…” she hesitantly said, “I see.”

 

Shy? “Or is she hiding something?”

 

“Could be both, it’s a bit weird when you meld thoughts with me though.”

 

“I know, I know, it’s just when I’m paying attention I hear everything and it all sounds the same.”

 

That… I was not a big fan of, but technically he was me, or at least close enough that it didn’t matter. “Keep at it I suppose, wouldn’t do if we became too different.”

 

“We theoretically already are. You’re technically smarter and wiser than me ya know? That can’t be for nothing.”

 

“Respects your betters then.”

 

“Nah. I’ve seen what I’m capable of and I’m not impressed.”

 

That traitor, I’ll make sure to impress upon him my intellect.

 

“And I’ll beat you,” he chuckled. “Hey, quiet, I wanna hear what they’re saying in front.”

 

I focused back on reality. Hearing the conversation the two in front had begun while I had my own.

 

“You carried rocks since you were four?” Noam asked, impressed.

 

“Da. It’s why I’m called Stoneback,” the orc answered. “Dwarves paid good money, and my Na couldn’t support us both with another in the womb.”

 

“That’s still amazing though!”

 

“Really?” the orc asked with a slightly confused expression, “I’ve been told I was lucky. Orc children are already brought on hunts when they could walk.”

 

Huh. He genuinely didn’t seem to think it was a special thing. A difference in cultures I suppose. “More importantly.” Yes yes, I’ll ask him. “So you’re so strong because you trained?”

 

The orc pursed his lips in thought, “Not so much trained… I just kept carrying the stuff they mined, and it kept slowly increasing till I was hauling enough for several mine carts.”

 

Hmm… “So it increased as he used it,” we thought at the same time.

 

That raised an interesting question. Traveller’s increase their stats through level-ups… but if the people here could train and naturally become stronger similar to how I would IRL, were their stats linked to a level or other discreet value?

 

“Latter is obviously true. Don’t forget you’re in a computer. Everything has a value.”

 

Noam talked, interrupting my thoughts. “So why do you use a piano?” That one I strained my ears- or whatever the myconid equivalent was- to hear.

 

“It is an old story,” he begun, his voice shifting to a slightly more guttural accent. “A year ago my friend Terrance dug into something. Some kind of instrument room, with a dusty piano in it.”

 

Celine leaned in a bit, likely also curious about it. Only Utoqa remained as he were, keeping at the same pace, seemingly not interested.

 

“There was an undead sitting by it. A natural Skeleton I was told later. Who remained because of regret. It didn’t look up at us, but was staring so intensely at a sheet of parchment that we didn’t notice it was undead before it moved.”

 

“But it didn’t move until I neared it,” his brows furrowed. “It was just… the piano looked so beautiful, I didn’t think I’ve seen anything more beautiful in my life. It was a gem shining in dust and dirt. I neared it, perhaps I was enchanted, but I played it. I touched the keys.”

 

He paused for a moment before Noam spoke up. “What happened next?”

 

“What I played was absolutely shit,” he said, a nostalgic smile on his face. “Terrance was knocked unconscious and the undead looked at me like I was some kind of freakish monster!” said the orc who was casually shouldering five hundred goddamn kilograms. “Whilst talking and walking!”

 

Noam chuckled, “Was it really that bad? You’re pretty amazing now.”

 

“It was,” the orc solemnly admitted, “It was my first time playing, so of course I would be bad! Everyone would be bad at something they tried the first time right?” he asked, glancing around for confirmation.

 

Celine nodded in understanding, whilst Noam just scratched his head, “I can sorta get that.”

 

The orc shook his head as he continued the story. “The damned undead didn’t even consider that! It called me some dak like ‘crime against decency!’” he vehemently ranted, “It even started crying on the ground!”

 

“He made a skeleton cry?”

 

“Yes, you heard that right.”

 

Noam began laughing, “Did the skeleton even have eyes to cry?”

 

“It didn’t!” Naukoth exclaimed incredulously, “But it still did it! The nerve of the thing!”

 

“It didn’t have nerves though,” I pointed out, to which I was rewarded with several amused snorts.

 

“What happened next?” Celine asked.

 

The orc’s steps slowed as she asked that, I peeked around him, seeing the large entrance of the cave we were supposed to enter. By a silent agreement, we stopped just in front.

 

“The skeleton cried about how we weren’t the ‘prophesied ones,’” Naukoth quietly continued, his formerly boisterous energy dimmed as we stared at the gaping maw of the cavern, “The one’s who will complete the song.”

 

“I was still pissed as hell at it at the time, so I threw the piano at it,” he chuckled a bit at the memory, “and swore that I would do it just to prove it wrong.”

 

“What song was it?” I asked.

 

He set down the piano, and fished the insides of his tunic, before withdrawing a rolled-up, ancient sheet of parchment.

 

“This one,” he said as he handed it to me. “Be careful, it’s a bit head screwy.”

 

Noam’s eyebrow rose, “You sure about handing it to us?”

 

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, I memorised it a long time ago.”

 

I unfurled it and stared at the notes.

 

Similar structure to the sheet music I’ve seen before, the lines are in the same places. Unfortunately, I never learnt to read sheet music, so I wouldn’t be able to- No.

 

“What?”

 

I could read it.

 

The notes weren’t the ones I was used to or have ever seen in fact. Eldritch symbols that seemed to move in spite of their stillness. They seemed to hop out of the page. Worming its way into my mind till I heard the song.

 

A procession of a thousand lights. A dance through the darkness. A thousand predetermined paths. Yet they all moved towards the same place, but that place… it was empty. There was no end, the lights danced eternally without a conclusion to grace them. It desired an end. It needed it.

 

“A memetic,” Declan muttered.

 

I glanced away from the parchment, the action oddly easy despite how it had drawn me in. Celine was beside me, pale green eyes on the parchment.

 

“This is strong magic,” she muttered quietly. “If even the formula is magical…”

 

I handed it to Noam’s outstretched hand and rubbed my head as he examined it.

 

“That affected me,” Declan quietly said.

 

My eyes widened. “You mean-"

 

“A thousand dancing lights, searching for an end that will never come,” he said. “Kinda poetic, but it is a song.”

 

“You sure it was because it affected you, or was it a secondary splash from-”

 

“Yes,” Declan answered with certainty. “But it can be tested. Look at it again and I’ll screenshot it.”

 

“If even the still screenshot has the same effect…”

 

“Then it can be safely concluded that this is a set of patterns that could work on a person in the real world,” I finished.

 

A memetic hazard huh. I thought those were a myth.

 

“Oh? Didn’t I tell you yet?” Declan asked ponderously.

 

“What?”

 

“That code of a ‘God’ in our house.”

 

“It’s the same as this, it’s a memetic.”

---

The eccentric group stood in front of the cavern entrances.

 

“We ready?” the tiefling asked.

 

The orc snarled, his piano held above him like a serving platter, “Born ready.”

 

The lizardfolk unsheathed his tomahawk of bone and drew a furred object from a pouch, “I am prepared.”

 

The alchemist checked her pouches and potions, before nervously nodding.

 

Noam gave a quick glance to Dustin and received a curiously raised eyebrow in response. ‘Do you even need to ask?’ he seemed to say.

 

“I’m heading in first,” Noam declared, stepping onto the sandy cave floor. The rest followed in single file, Dustin, his blue glow becoming more pronounced in the dark, Naukoth, angling the piano so that it won’t hit the jagged stalactites, Celine checking her potions once again and Utoqa quietly holding the rear.

 

The air was cold and damp, and Noam took care to watch his step. In the dark, he could only see shades of black and white-

 

“Umm… I can’t see…” Celine nervously spoke out.

 

“Neither can I,” Utoqa said.

 

Dustin tsked, the soft blue glow of his cap blinking out for a moment, “Damn, forgot about that.”

 

“Oh you races without darkvision,” Naukoth rolled his eyes.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“No problem,” Dustin muttered as several softly glowing mushrooms grew from his arm, illuminating a few metres. “I’ll have to spam this don’t I…” he softly muttered as more grew from his body.

 

“Ha,” Naukoth chuckled as he nudged his friend, “How are your scales helping now?”

 

“I have always said my scales are better than yours as a defence. How does this apply?” the lizardfolk asked.

 

“I can cast Dancing Lights,” Celine helpfully supplied. She raised her hand, and four glowing balls of light appeared, revealing the spacious caverns, high and wide enough that they could walk abreast comfortably.

 

“Do that, I’ll mark our path,” he replied as he put his hand on a nearby stalagmite, a glowing mushroom popping out as he removed it.

 

“It is a joke,” the orc said as Dustin set down some light sporages, “You always say we are compensating for having flesh weaker than mail.”

 

“But you are,” Utoqa stated as they moved forward, Dustin setting down another light shroom every few metres. “Why else would you wear armour?”

 

“Why don’t you wear armour?” Dustin curiously asked. “An additional layer of defence over your already tough scales could not hurt.”

 

“I did not accumulate the metal pieces required to exchange for such a thing.”

 

The orc bent down to whisper to Dustin, “Money. He’s talking about money.”

 

“It is… what is the word? Sad, that you are not born with armour and weapons.”

 

“He doesn’t mean it,” the orc whispered.

 

“The mushroom creature has armour,” Utoqa interjected, “the rest of you do not.”

 

“Not natural,” I said, “they’re skills I got later on.”

 

“Better than without.”

 

The orc tsked, “None would sell my size.”

 

“... I’m broke," Celine quietly added.

 

“I don’t really need it,” Noam muttered before he suddenly dropped to the ground.

 

“Tracks.” “What kind?” him and Dustin said at the same time.

 

Noam held his hand behind him, to which Dustin instantly handed him a light shroom. The group behind shuffled forward to glimpse at it.

 

“Can’t tell,” Noam admitted. “Too muddled.”

 

“Shoe tracks,” Utoqa said. “From many.”

 

“The group before us probably,” Dustin noted.

 

“... Didn’t they enter from a different hole?”

 

“Must’ve been connected,” Naukoth growled, “let us not meet them.”

 

Suddenly, Utoqa’s slitted eyes flicked to the darkness around them.

 

“Guys,” Dustin started, Yellow urgently knocking his cap, “We’re surrounded.”

 

Noam and Utoqa moved first. Utoqa, having seen movement beforehand, Noam trusting his friend entirely. They moved opposite of each other, each at one side of the group.

 

“Finally!” the orc yelled, setting down his grand piano with a loud thud, “Battle!”

 

Dustin threw a clump of sporages over Utoqa.

 

“Thank you,” the lizard said as the light sources fell with a plop, revealing the nature of the enemies they were facing.

 

Shambling arrays of stitched up creatures. Remnants of life thrashed together to form dog-sized mockeries lurking in the dark.

 

Dustin’s did a quick count around them, “At least ten.”

 

“War of Drums please,” Dustin requested.

 

“Gladly.”

 

The moment his hands touched the keys, the abominations attacked as if a starting pistol was fired. Four rapidly rushed on Utoqa’s side. Amalgamations of different beasts moving with limbs not entirely theirs.

 

Dustin, his back turned to them, switched his vision to Greenie staring at the clump of sporages, “Poison Spores,” it chirped and one exploded in green dust.

 

Two chimeras were caught in the blast. Screeching as their flesh contorted in unnatural ways.

 

Two more hopped around the poison. One with rabbit-like legs twisting as it bared large sabre fangs at Utoqa.

 

He cleaved clean through the creature, then swiftly reversed the swing to catch the other beast. A hard crunch echoed as he batted it several metres.

 

“Two,” Dustin softly muttered.

 

On the other side, Noam fought back three chimeras. His blades biting but not killing. Suddenly as he parried a demented otter-like chimera, the creature's skin caught on his sword’s hook, and in a flash of brilliant stupidity, he swung his now weighted club at another encroaching beast.

 

A swing too wide, as the new weight dragged him forward. A clawed foot slashed at his now exposed back, but Dustin was faster. A glob of acid splashed onto the panther-like chimera, causing it to recoil back, attack abandoned as Noam’s punched it with his crescent guard, drawing blood and blinding it.

 

Yellow threw its spores in the air, blinding another chimera on the ceiling. Through its eyes, Dustin saw two more lurking around the piano’s exposed end.

 

“Right switch!” he yelled, and immediately Noam pivoted, turning to the direction of the orc. His arm in a wide swing as he catapulted the hooked chimera into another one.

 

“Three.”

 

His old foe slashed out blindly, but Dustin swiftly took Noam’s place. A swung staff cracked against the chimera’s nose, bloodying it further.

 

From behind him, Celine threw a ceramic ball into the two disorientated chimeras, upon cracking it unleashed an expanding pink foam, encasing them both before it hardened.

 

“Got em!"

 

“Help Noam!” Dustin yelled as he slammed the butt end of his staff into the chimera’s mouth. Using it as a fulcrum, he wedged open the things grotesque mouth. “Acid Spit.” Burning acid fell into the creature’s throat as Dustin drew back his staff. It scratched uselessly against his Barkskin as it gurgled in agony.

 

“Four,” he muttered as he stared down the other one. The chimera slowly backed away, cautiously lurking.

 

Celine’s skeletal familiar jumped from her shoulder and flew. Gliding over Noam’s head before diving to peck the eyes of some frog weasel hybrid.

 

Giving up all pretense of being a swordsman. Noam used his weapon guard as knuckle dusters as he punched and slashed at two chimeras on his side, drawing a bloody line across the throat of one creature.

 

“Five.”

 

The remaining chimera fell back, clawing at the pecking undead. It didn’t notice the glowing blue rope until it whipped around its stitched belly. Celine pulled the animated rope, dragging it to fall onto the floor.

 

Noam punched down. A brutal squelch and crack as the beast’s head was crushed into the floor.

 

“Six,” Dustin said. The chimera he was staring down slunk back into the dark, disappearing and far out of range.

 

He quickly scanned the area, Greenie and Yellow covering his blindspots. Briefly noting that Utoqa was doing the same.

 

Neither of them saw any more enemies, save for the two still trapped in the pink foam.

 

“Injuries?”

 

“None!” Noam answered as he flicked off gore.

 

“I- I’m good!”

 

Naukoth slowed his song, “I have none.”

 

“I am well.”

 

Dustin pointed at the trapped chimeras with his staff. “Finish those two off.”

 

“Now,” he thought.

 

“Where did the last two go?”