Runeguard 011

“So, you’re back.”

“You cannot accept the task, Dace.”

“Where did you go?” I asked, ignoring her statement.

Adi was silent for a moment before replying. “I had to log the incident with the Creche administrator and request further direction.” 

I had no trouble parsing Adi’s statement, knowing from my conversation with Nightstalker already what ‘incident’ she referred to.

“That creature you were speaking to,” Adi continued. “Her level is too high for the Creche.”

“I know,” I said.

“Her kind are sentient too. And while in rare cases, sentients other than the entrant species may be permitted in a Creche, the sector administrator has not given his permission for black dragons to enter Creche 1050. That is another mark against her.”

I said nothing.

“The Creche administrator has ordered me to intervene directly. He has sentenced the pair to death. Only your new task stays his hand. Reject the task and he may proceed.”

My brows drew down in consternation. I didn’t understand why my task would prevent the administrators from acting. But more than that I was irked that the System would so callously kill the black dragon mother and hatchling, and for no greater crime than having the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Why must they die, Adi?” I demanded.

“They don’t belong here.”

“So?” I waved my arms in the air. “You don’t have to kill them. Teleport them away or something. I know such is certainly within the System’s power.”

“It’s not so simple.”

“Then explain it.”

Adi was silent for a long time. “The System will act as the System is wont to. No administrator may dictate its actions. Administrators serve as the System’s custodians, and while this grants us some measure of control, we do not have the power to act arbitrarily. We must always work within the Law. And the Law does not allow for any other response but death for intruders within a Creche.”

I didn’t bother arguing that the black dragons were not ‘intruders.’ The administrators, it seemed, had already deemed them so. “But my task has stopped the Creche administrator from acting?” I asked, taking another tack. “Why?”

“The Law prevents administrators from interfering with a player’s training.”

I chewed over that. “That leaves the Creche administrator in a pretty pickle, doesn’t it? According to its ‘laws,’ it can’t let the black dragons live, nor can it stop me from fulfilling my task.”

“Exactly,” Adi agreed. “That is why you must refuse the task.”

I was just about to reply when another voice intruded. “Is something wrong, human?” asked Nightstalker.

My gaze slid back to her. I had been so caught up in my argument with Adi, I had almost forgotten about the black dragon mother.

“My personal administrator is back. The administrators want me to reject your task,” I admitted.

A strange huffing sound echoed through my mind. A second later, I realized it was the sound of the dragon laughing. “I am not surprised, human. The System is nothing, if not obstinate about the Law,” Nightstalker said. “But I may have a proposition for your administrator. May I speak to her?”

“Adi, Nightstalker wants to speak to you,” I said.

“We are communicating already, Dace,” she replied.

“Huh,” I grunted. Folding my arms, I set myself to wait.

It was less than a minute before the conversation between the pair ended. “Dace, Nightstalker and I have come to a tentative agreement,” Adi said. “But before we proceed further, I must know: are you determined to fulfill the black dragon’s task?”

The task window was still floating open before me. “I am,” I replied.

“Then I require your further indulgence. I must take up the matter directly with the sector administrator before you accept the task. Is that acceptable?”

“It is Adi,” I said, waving my assent. “I’ll wait. But while you consult your boss, I’m going to try and heal that hatchling. She has been left in pain long enough.”

✵ ✵ ✵

As I closed the remaining few feet separating me from the black dragons, their forms finally resolved fully. Both beasts were midnight-black and covered from snout to tail in dull obsidian scales that seemed to swallow the light.

Nightstalker stared placidly back at me as I studied her. Her wings were furled tightly against her side, and her form was lean and well-muscled, betraying not even the least hint of fat. She is a mighty beast, I thought. 

I turned towards the hatchling. Mooneyes stirred and bent her head weakly in my direction to catch my scent. In the act of kneeling down beside her, I paused. “Has the System not frozen her?” I asked Nightstalker.

“No, Mooneye’s level is still low enough to be admissible in the Creche,” Nightstalker replied.

I knelt over the black dragon hatchling. Her sides had been gnashed open, and her scales were torn and ripped. The pulse at her neck fluttered weakly. I was no expert healer, but I didn’t think she would be alive for much longer.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“A pair of opportunistic wyverns separated her from the Clan. They winged her and forced her to go to ground in this valley. My hatchling managed to hold them at bay for an entire day,” Nightstalker said, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. “Then I arrived.” 

“What happened to the wyverns?”

“They made for a tasty snack,” Nightstalker replied with undisguised relish.

I shuddered and didn’t inquire any further on the matter. Placing my hands to Mooneyes sides, I breathed in deeply in preparation. “Alright,” I murmured. “Here goes nothing.”

Drawing mana from the pool in my mind, I whispered the words of the lesser heal spell.

I had no idea what any of the words I recited meant. Or even what language I was speaking. 

I only knew, seemingly from deeply ingrained instinct, that to invoke the spell, I needed to vocalize the words while directing the casting towards my intended target.

Mana flowed from me into Mooneyes, leaving mended bones and repaired flesh in its wake.

You have restored 1% of your target’s health. Mooneyes has 6% HP and 4 wounds remaining.

You have gained the life skill: life magic!

“No, no, no,” I groaned on seeing the System’s message. While I had cast the spell successfully, the effect was nowhere near what I had hoped for. Not waiting for Nightstalker’s response, I recast the spell.

You have restored 1% of your target’s health. Mooneyes has 7% HP and 4 wounds remaining.

Your life magic skill has increased to rank 2.

Again, the hatchling’s health barely ticked upwards, and her wounds remained unrepaired. Plunging onwards, I cast the spell twice more.

You have restored 1% of your target’s health and healed 1 wound. Mooneyes has 8% HP and 3 wounds remaining.

Your life magic skill has increased to rank 3.

You have restored 2% of your target’s health. Mooneyes has 10% HP and 3 wounds remaining.

Your life magic skill has increased to rank 4.

Your mana has dropped to 0%.

You have gained the channeling skill: regeneration!

“Goddamn, no!” I growled. I had failed. Mooneyes was still wounded—and now I was out of my mana. I lowered my head, refusing to meet Nightstalker’s gaze.

“It is alright, human,” Nightstalker said. “I did not expect you to succeed.

My head whipped up and my mouth worked soundlessly. “Why?” I asked, unable to articulate my question any further.

“All will be explained when your administrator returns,” the black dragon said serenely. She paused. “If I am not mistaken, she is here already.”

“Adi?” I queried.

“I am here, Dace.”

“What do you have to report,” I asked absently, still disheartened by my failure to heal Mooneyes.

“The sector administrator has agreed to the black dragon’s proposal. However, there is a caveat.”

“What caveat?” I asked suspiciously.

“The reward the black dragon offers is too great in value for one of your level. The Law will only allow it to be granted within very specific constraints.”

“And what are these constraints?”

“The black dragon’s task will be moderated. The reward itself will be modified and linked to one of your Class quests. If you fulfill Nightstalker’s task, your reward will be integrated into your guardian’s first Class ability, instead of providing you with additional benefits.”

I bowed my head and rubbed my temples. “All that sounds awfully vague and complicated. Can you not explain it better?”

“No, I cannot. The sector administrator has forbidden me from revealing more.”

I ground my teeth together. “Of course, he has,” I muttered. “But all of this is theoretical. I have failed to heal the hatchling.”

Adi fell silent. “Then Nightstalker has not told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Perhaps it would be best if you ask her, Dace.”

I refocused on the dragon mother. “You have something to tell me, Nightstalker?”

“Did the administrators agree to my proposal?”

“They did.”

“That is good,” Nightstalker said, relief suffusing her voice.

“What haven’t you told me, Nightstalker?” I asked.

“I am destined to die,” the black dragon said. No fear marred her voice. “Even if you heal my hatchling, there is no saving me.” 

I stayed silent. I had realized as much myself and was impressed that she could face her fate with such unflinching courage.

“I have persuaded the administrators to alter the loot that will be left behind on my corpse,” Nightstalker said.

I blinked, not understanding the relevance. “What does loot have to do with this?”

“When the administrators execute me, my body will be left behind. On it you will find a single-cast scroll: full restoration.”

I frowned as I ran through the implications. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You knew I wouldn’t be able to heal Mooneyes. You induced that task to manipulate the System—and me.”

“I did,” Nightstalker replied, without the least hint of contrition.

I sighed, understanding her motivation, while not being entirely comfortable with being duped. “Alright, we’ll do it your way. What next?”

It was Adi who answered. “You must reject the original task, and the black dragon must initiate a new one.”

I did as Adi asked. The task window hanging open in front of me closed abruptly and a new one took its place almost immediately.

You have acquired a new Creche task!

Creche Task 04: Heal Mooneyes

The black dragon Nightstalker has requested that you: heal Mooneyes.

Main Objective: Restore Nightstalker’s hatchling to full health.

Rewards: modified Class ability.

Additional requirements: guardian Class.

I studied the new task intently before acceding to it. It was exactly as Adi had said.

 “Are you ready, Nightstalker?” Adi asked, this time letting me overhear her conservation with the black dragon.

“A moment, administrator. Let me say farewell to my hatchling.” The black dragon fell silent in my mind. Though on the faint edges of my mind, I thought I heard the murmur of Nightstalker and Mooneyes voices as the pair conversed. 

But it could have just been my imagination.

Eventually, I sensed Nightstalker turn her regard upon me. “This has been a fortunate encounter, human—for both of us, I suspect. You have my thanks for the part you’ve played in saving my daughter. Perhaps we will meet again. Farewell.”

I frowned, wondering as to her meaning. How could we meet again?

“I am ready, administrator,” Nightstalker said.

Adi said nothing, but an instant later, I felt a bolt of energy ripple through the air. Then Nightstalker’s presence vanished. 

She was dead.

Mooneyes, still weak, raised a trembling snout and keened in mourning.

I bowed my own head. I had barely known the black dragon mother, yet she had seemed worthy of respect.

“Loot her corpse, Dace.”

I rose to my feet. “Adi, why did the sector administrator agree to Nightstalker’s proposal? Is changing the loot on her corpse not contravening the Law?”

“Normally yes, Dace,” Adi agreed. “But not in this instance. You did not kill the black dragon and therefore have no claim on the spoils. Anything you gain is purely by happenstance: you being at the right place at the right time to run across her corpse before it expires.”

My mouth twisted at the irony of that, but I stayed silent and let Adi continue with her explanation.

“Given these circumstances, the sector administrator has more leeway in determining what you find on her body. Also, the sector administrator has judged that making the loot changes Nightstalker requested to be the least disruptive option.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Normally, even the least item you found on a black dragon would be far outside the reach of a level eight player. It would have made you imbalanced.” Adi paused. “It was as much to solve this problem as anything else that the sector administrator acceded to the dragon’s wishes.” 

In the act of reaching out to Nightstalker’s corpse, I paused. “So, accepting Nightstalker’s task has actually robbed me of loot?”

“Essentially, yes,” said Adi in an amused undertone.

Now why hadn’t Nightstalker mentioned that? I sighed, though my heart wasn’t in it. My gaze strayed to Mooneyes. 

The hatchling was straining to breathe. She watched me with unblinking eyes, though she still didn’t deign to speak to me. 

I didn’t know Mooneyes. I had no personal attachment to her. But she was young, small, and defenseless. I could no more ignore her plight than a human child’s. 

I sighed again. I doubted I would have decided any differently about Nightstalker’s task—even if I had known the consequences.

I set my hands to the dragon mother’s snout. Her scales felt hard and cool to the touch, much like metal. “Loot,” I whispered in my mind.

You have acquired the life magic scroll: full restoration.

Item: Full Restoration Scroll

Restores: 100% HP to the target. Parent skill: life magic. Requirements: life magic skill.

I extracted the scroll from my inventory and unfurled it. It was filled with lines of indecipherable runes that shone with a luminous golden inner light of their own. My gaze was caught and held by the magical text. 

I couldn’t look away.

Then, not of my own volition, I began sounding out the words. Once again, I didn’t comprehend their meaning, yet it didn’t stop me from incanting the spell. With a start, I realized that with the mere act of unrolling the scroll, I had begun the spellcasting.

And I haven’t given the spell its target yet.

Hurriedly, I focused my will on Mooneyes. In relief I felt the casting direct its energy her way. No mana flowed out of me though. I had none left to give anyway. 

The spell was powered by the scroll itself—and the Runes inscribed on it. Within their intricate swirls, grooves, and scratches, the Runes held the necessary mana.

As I invoked the spell, the scroll’s mana was released, and directed by both my will and the spell, flowed into the hatchling.

You have restored 100% of your target’s health and healed 3 wounds. Mooneyes has been restored to full health.

Your life magic skill has increased to rank 5.

You have fulfilled your task: heal Mooneyes! Attain the guardian Class to receive your reward.

The scroll in my hands disintegrated.

I looked up at the hatchling. Mooneyes had risen to her feet and flared her wings. Suddenly she looked much bigger.

I stepped back. But the young dragon made no move towards me. 

“Thank you, human.” It was Mooneyes in a high, piping voice that betrayed her age.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

The hatchling shifted from foot to foot. “I will tell my sire what you have done. He will look kindly on you for it. I am certain.” 

She didn’t sound certain. But I understood the sentiment behind the young dragon’s words. She was trying to express her gratitude. “Thank you, Mooneyes,” I replied gravely. “Do you know how to get back to your Clan?”

Mooneyes bobbed her head. “A dragon is never lost. I can find my way back to the Eyrie.”

This time she seemed a lot more confident. “You lead the way then,” I said, “and I’ll escort you there.”

Mooneyes scoffed. “I don’t need your help, human! You’re too puny! Besides—” The hatchling broke off and hung her head. “Sorry. Mother said I should be polite to you.”

“It’s no matter,” I said kindly. “Forget it.”

Mooneyes lifted her head, her young eyes, bright and trusting. “Are you sure, human? I don’t want mother angry at me.”

The hatchling was still speaking of Nightstalker in the present tense, which I found a bit odd but let pass, anyway. “I won’t tell her,” I assured her.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Mooneyes cocked her head to the side. “But I meant no offense, human. You are wingless. You cannot go where I must.” 

“Ah,” I said, eyeing the hatchling’s impressive wingspan. “If you’re sure you will be fine.”

“I will be,” said Mooneyes, her eyes earnest.

“Alright. You better go then, before either of us tries the administrators’ patience further.”

Mooneyes turned about to face the entrance of the cave. “Bye, human.”

“Bye, Mooneyes.”

With a lurching gait that nonetheless was oddly graceful, the hatchling launched herself out of the cave and into the air.