Gods of the Game #3, Chapter 7

The sound of Virgil’s lazy applause died away as the three men walked—well, Virgil limped badly, his limbs barely carrying him in a straight line—over to where Charoen sat.

“Incredible.” Sindre sounded almost angry. “At your peak you were in the mid-B rankings. Now you have three stats at Solar?”

“Ah, don’t get mad,” said Virgil. “I swear I’m not about to kill the rest of our players just so I can bring them back as superior Echoes.”

Sindre and Carmine both turned to stare at the könig, clearly shocked.

“What?” Virgil affected innocence. “I’m serious. None of them have the raw potential that Charoen did. Does. You know what I mean. It’d be a huge waste of money.”

Sindre’s eye widened even further, but before he could unleash his reaction Virgil laughed and clapped his hands together as if in prayer. “I jest! Oh come on, you know I’m just provoking you. It’s too easy. Honestly, I’m not nearly as monstrous as that. But fine. Let’s be serious. Charoen?” Virgil turned to him, leaving Sindre to splutter. “Well done. I had dreamed that you might manifest his kind of power, but seeing it actually play out—fantastic. And to attack Kali as you did? Carmine, have you ever seen the like?”

“Not in person, no.”

“So. You’re almost a complete S-ranked player. As is, you’re right on the cusp, with your Average being a gorgeous A9. A9!” Virgil beamed. “What a miracle. Well, a secular miracle, but you know what I mean. Of course, it won’t do to have play as a lowly opfern any longer.”

Charoen’s breath had returned to normal, and he accepted the bottle of calorie-rich sludge that Carmine had brought him from one of the fridges. He’d been in the midst of unscrewing the cap when he froze. “Not an opfern?”

“By the heavens above, gosh no!” Virgil leaned forward. “Oh, you’d be a fantastic opfern, don’t get me wrong, but your days of wielding a power halberd are over. No. I think…” He narrowed his eyes as if speculating. “What’s your opinion, Sindre? What might be a good fit?”

Sindre crossed his arms and remained silent, his expression glowering like a thunderhead. Clearly he had no intentions of playing along with Virgil’s games.

“No opinion? Well, I’ll take a stab at it. Too slender to be a schloss, and too good to keep in reserve as a mörderin. König’s already taken. Hellseherin? Hmm. Nah. I don’t think it’s in your nature to just duck and run.”

“You’re putting me in as a jäger?” Charoen rose unsteadily to his feet, his muscles still weak. “What about Catori? Kristoff?”

“It’s a cruel world, my friend.” Virgil stepped forward to sling an arm around Charoen’s much broader shoulders and begin leading him toward the locker room. “Kristoff, well, let’s just say he’s not Premiere League material. He accepted at my recommendation a cushy Minor League spot and will happily enjoy playing at his level. Which, coincidentally, leaves a spot open on our team.”

Charoen stopped, forcing Virgil to do the same. “You want me to play jäger? I’ve no experience. No training. We’ve only a month you said.”

“Pah, you’ll be fine. We’ve got the best coaches in the world, and Catori can show you the ropes. And honestly, you’d be a waste anywhere else.” Virgil studied him sidelong. “And tell me true: are you saying you’d really not rather experiment with the ability to fly?”

An image came back to him: Markus Svor, the Gallow’s Crow and jäger for the Steel Furies. How noble and grand he’d looked in the holographic projection that had towered over the entrance to Stortovet Plaza. Clad in his reaver half-plate, his helm backswept, with the four exhaust pipes of his jäger hopper pack extending up past his shoulders, and his massive turbine boots, he’d looked an avenging angel, a figure of consummate power and lethality.

A hunger awoke in Charoen’s breast. A desire to claim the skies. To flit over the battling teams with his lightning lance crackling, to be a roving force of destruction.

He couldn’t think of a better way to unleash himself upon his foes.

“That’s the spirit,” grinned Virgil, and clapped him on the back. “Now, let’s get to the locker room. I’ve a lovely surprise waiting for you.”

Charoen helped Virgil limp along. The man’s brow was soon sheened in sweat, and he kept blinking owlishly as if he was having trouble focusing on the world before him. To Charoen’s alarm, Virgil could barely remain erect, and his body was burning with a riotous fever.

“You’re…” The realization hit him. “You’re dying.”

“Aren’t we all?” Virgil made an effort to stand straight. “I’m just being a little more efficient about it than everyone else.”

“No. I mean, you’re…” Charoen stared at the blond, haggard man by his side. “You won’t last the month.”

“Since when did you become a doctor, hmm?” Virgil clawed his hair back behind one ear and struggled on. “I’m fine. Watching your Kali trial got me all hot and bothered, is all. Soon as my heart rate settles, I’ll be right as rain.”

Charoen glanced back at Sindre and Carmine, who were following at a distance. Neither man met his eye. “I have memories of your illness. It was never this bad.”

“Your memories are faulty. It was this bad once before, but excused myself for a couple of weeks to recover. I’ll do so again before our first game, and when I return, lo! You shall gaze upon the miracles of modern medicine. Secular miracles, to be sure.”

Virgil barely weighed anything at all. It was as if all his muscle and flesh had wasted away, leaving him little more than a skeleton under his padded clothing. And that fever.

“Honestly, don’t concern yourself with me.” Virgil’s tone grew impatient. “I’ve been wrangling this condition for longer than you know, and have full confidence in my team’s ability to patch me up. I’ll be fine. But you! You’re going to shine, Charoen. Oh, you’re going to burn. Here. Let’s head over to that locker there.”

They’d passed through the short tunnel that led to the lockers. Their steps echoed on the polished stone floor. Orange lockers were arrayed around the low ceilinged room, each a massive strongbox that held the team’s priceless gear within. Instead of heading to his old Locker 18, Virgil directed him to the much larger Locker 5 that had been Kristoff’s domain. Setting Virgil down on a bench, he approached the huge door and pressed his palm into the indentation and heard a large bolt withdraw itself.

He pulled the door open.

In many respects the interior was akin to his opfern locker. The same cool white light, the same padded floor, complete with an armature in the back.

That’s where all similarities ended.

Locker 5 was easily twice the size of his own, and featured much more gear. The turbine boots were bulky and massive in the center of the room, and it was immediately clear he wasn’t inheriting Kristoff’s old gear. Both boots gleamed as if freshly oiled, massive and rising as high as the knee, their quad turbines causing their sides to flare out unnaturally.

And the reaver plate. It matched the boots in appearance, iridescent shimmers licking across the curvature of the plates as Charoen stepped inside, streamlined and reinforced to allow both maximum mobility and the least possible weight in the air. Bulky around the shoulders and chest, with gauntlets, vambrace, and heavy pauldrons, it left the ribs and abdomen exposed. Hip guards, thigh plates, and of course the jäger helm.

Charoen drifted in closer.

“You’re looking at the latest model of Aegis Dynamics MK-IV Half-Reaver Plate,” said Virgil quietly from just outside. “Flight-certified for sub-atmospheric maneuvering. The turbine boots are Helion Forge QuadJets, four-stage counter-rotational turbines with independent vectoring fins — that’s why they flare like that. They’ll lift a hundred and twenty kilos on thrust alone, double that if you spike the capacitors.

“The plating’s lamellar-bonded carbyne weave, pressure-grown in Kuratani Foundries — same people who do orbital reentry armor for the Selene Commandos. You’ll get full kinetic dispersal across the pauldrons and forearms, but the abdomen’s open for thermal bleed-off; reaver plates cook their wearers if you close them up completely. Those iridescent sheens you’re seeing? Vantac-mirror nano-film, phase-responsive to ambient charge. It dumps static as light so your systems don’t fry every time you blink through space.”

Charoen barely heard the könig’s words. His eyes were wide as he rounded the armature, and reached out to touch the cold flawless contour to the hopper pack.

“That’s the latest Roth-Thalmann R4 vector-field array. Had to pull some strings to get the prototype model out here before commercial release. It boasts an expanded range on the spatial phasing, and has tri-phased gravitic capacitors tied straight into the spinal rig. You think ‘go’, it’s already halfway there.”

Charoen nodded slowly, as if any of that made sense to him, but what he saw, what he knew, was that this pack was the key to everything. His ability to reposition himself across the field, to cross spacetime with a thought. Sure, it wasn’t instantaneous, but it would imbue him with the powers of a god.

“And of course, the piece-de-resistance, is your Voltaic Armory Type-7 Lightning Lance, thirty-megajoule discharge potential, variable frequency tip. Makes your poor power lance look like a tooth pick.”

Charoen felt the strain from the Kali trial continue to drag at his body. He frowned, pressed his hand to his brow, and felt a fever; nothing compared to Virgil’s raging inferno, but still hot. Pushing his concern away, he reached for the lightning lance. It was longer than he was tall, topped with stubby prongs, and elegantly fashioned in some light yet durable alloy.

Sindre and Carmine had joined Virgil, and it was Sindre that spoke. “You lost all your previous abilities when you died. Your Gamma was 84 hz, which puts you in the Apex Zone. Means you get to pick your Serene, Dynamic, and Apex abilities all in one go.”

“You’ll be shocked to learn that I have suggestions,” said Virgil brightly.

“Thanks, but I’ll take a look myself.” Charoen focused on the lance. It should have connected to his stimpack already, meaning he needed to hit his highest Gamma in order to unlock his new powers.

A deep breath and he closed his eyes. Focused his thoughts, and strove for clarity.

When he felt ready, he opened his eyes, and saw lettering appear across his vision.

Incoming data from League Processing Center…

Weapon Type: Jager Lightning Lance

Gamma Frequency: 86 hertz (B-ranked, Apex Zone)

Weapon Ranking: B

No Serene, Dynamic, or Apex Zone Abilities detected.

Available Serene Zone Weapon abilities:

Charoen read the familiar list. Bane was there as before, and almost he reached for it. But no. While it would allow him to do more damage against a selected type of foe, it would decrease his output against everyone else. And as a jäger he’d need versatility.

Ricochet was appealing, and for a moment he envisioned his lightning blast dancing from opfern to opfern, taking out an entire squad with one blow. But he needed to think bigger: schloss’s, hellseherins, and even mörderins.

One power caught his eye:

■      Shock: Add a burst of electrical energy to your attacks, increasing their overall damage potential. Shock is a reliable and versatile option for any combatant.

He glanced at the men awaiting outside his locker. “How does Shock work with the Lightning Lance?”

“Very well,” said Sindre mildly. “It doesn’t quite double the output, but acts as 1.5 multiplier, depending on your gamma.”

Charoen nodded and made his selection. While Suregrip or Impervious had their fundamental appeal, he wasn’t going to be out there playing it safe.

New text appeared in his mind’s eye:

Available Dynamic Zone Weapon abilities:

■      Conductive: Channels stored jäger lightning through the weapon, allowing strikes to discharge electrical arcs that overload shields and short circuitry.

■      Corrosive: Infuses each blow with reactive acid, searing through armor and continuing to erode it long after impact.

■      Defending: Diverts the weapon’s energy flow into the user’s armor systems, hardening plates and absorbing incoming damage for a brief duration.

■      Cleaver: Improves the schloss attack, causing your weapon to grow heavier and enabling more powerful and devastating strikes.

■      Gravitational Pull: Each strike distorts local gravity, generating brief micro-wells that drag enemies and debris toward the point of impact.

■      Synchronized Strikes: Harmonizes attack vectors among nearby allies, amplifying collective force and granting temporary increases to damage output.

■      Energized Strike: Converts kinetic impact into stabilized gamma charge, incrementally reinforcing the wielder’s energy reserves with each successful hit.

■      Vampiric Strike: Converts inflicted damage into regenerative feedback, siphoning a fraction of the target’s vitality to mend the wielder’s own.

■      Overcharge: Floods the weapon’s conduits with raw gamma energy, massively boosting output for a short time before triggering a destabilizing feedback crash.

Last time he’d leaped at the chance to acquire Cleaver. It had been the perfect fit for his power halberd. Now? He forced himself to read each possibility carefully.

Corrosive took too long. He wasn’t interested in defending himself. Cleaver wasn’t applicable to a lightning strike. Synchronized Strikes was an opfern power. Vampiric Strike was tempting, but again, he wasn’t interested in playing it safe. Overcharge? The jäger’s Cleaver. Or Gravitational Pull? The ability to destabilize his opponents was hugely appealing. Then again, given his relatively low Gamma rating, Energized Strike could offset his key weakness.

Again he turned back to the others. “How does Conductive work for a jäger?”

“Same deal,” rumbled Sindre. “Increases your range.”

He discarded Overcharge. If he wanted to massacre entire teams, he couldn’t risk being weakened after any particular duel. Energized Strike was also out. He could work on his weaknesses. And though an extended range felt useful, something about Gravitational Pull drew him in. It would allow him to sow chaos amongst his foes, throw off mörderins and schloss’s, and grant him an edge against possibly higher ranked opponents.

But it felt too… tricksy. Too calculating.

Charoen didn’t want to play the chess master out on the field.

He just wanted to tear through his opponents.

He chose Conductive.

Available Apex Zone Weapon abilities:

■      Called: Bound to its wielder through quantum tethering, the weapon returns unerringly to hand after release, ignoring gravity and distance alike.

■      Cruel: Laces each strike with neurotoxic feedback, inducing nausea and disorientation that intensify in proportion to the damage inflicted.

■      Flaming: Channels elemental plasma through the weapon’s core, wreathed in sustained flame that scorches armor and flesh on contact.

■      Berserker: Destabilizes hertz frequency to chaotic extremes, doubling offensive output while inflicting cumulative strain upon the wielder’s body and mind.

■      Thundering: Converts kinetic impact into concussive resonance, releasing a shockwave of sonic force that ruptures air and eardrums alike.

■      Hunter: Amplifies lethality in isolation; the fewer foes nearby, the more precise and devastating its strikes become.

■      Charging: Builds destructive potential along a timed energy curve, doubling power after full charge and resetting to baseline upon a successful hit.

■      Siphoning: Drains gamma energy from struck targets, converting the extracted flow into stabilized reserves that reinforce the wielder’s endurance.

Despite everything, despite his rebirth as an Echo, his alienation from himself, his anger and doubt, Charoen couldn’t repress a flicker of elation as he read the list. These were powers his previous self had never enjoyed.

Called was out. He’d not be hurling his lance. Cruel immediately appealed. Flaming? How fearsome would a lighting and fire attack be? Berserker. He recalled Lars’ experience with the ability, how it had supercharged his ascent to glory, only to bring him down low in time. Thundering felt more like an opfern or schloss power. Hunter was fascinating… but he didn’t want to be a solitary assassin at all times. Surely there’d be occasions when he hurled himself into a massed fray. The time constraint on Charging ruled it out. Siphoning was disqualified for the same reason he hadn’t wanted Vampiric Strike.

So.

Cruel or Berserker.

Charoen closed his eyes and focused on his heart, his balance, his sense of self. Both appealed to the beast within him. Cruel would allow him to torment and ravage his opponents… He could envision himself disorienting and sickening his foes as they spun and fell into the gravitational vortices.

But Berserker. The chance to double his offensive output was too appealing to pass over. And he didn’t want a long and storied career. He couldn’t envision a life that lasted beyond the next few days, much less years.

Charoen stared down at the lance. It was beautiful, lethal, a symbol of perfection. But he didn’t think he’d wield it forever. He wanted… in that moment, all he desired was a culmination. An apogee of burning success.

Sadness stole in his breast as he realized that truth: he wasn’t interested in a long life, in figuring out answers that would make him a complete person. He felt himself a tool. A weapon. A…

He screwed his eyes shut tight as he tried to tease out the right description.

He felt like retribution given flesh. An unbeatable force. A source of harm and ruin.

Not a person.

Nothing that needed tending to, care, or careful handling.

Charoen’s jaw tightened and he selected Berserker.

“I see you made your selection,” said Virgil softly, reading some invisible readout in the air before him. “Shock, Conductive, and Berserker.”

“God damn,” said Sindre.

“For academic interest, I’ll note I was going to suggest Shock, Gravitational Well, and Flaming,” continued Virgil. “I envisioned you akin to a scalpel, controlling and excising players from existence with surgical finesse. It seems you had other plans.”

“Yeah.” Charoen felt no urge to explain. “Time for my Armor.”

Setting the lance back against the wall, he moved to don the half-plate. The Reaver armor was more durable and impressive than the opfern plate he’d grown used to. First he donned a Brutal Deluxe orange bodysuit, then affixed the sections of armor to his body, where they adhered seemingly magically without need for straps or buckles.

Nobody offered to help. Perhaps they sensed they weren’t needed or wanted.

Finally he drew the jäger helm down over his head. It affixed to the armor, forming a seal that would withstand being submerged or ejected into the void of space. The suit of armor felt empowering without being limiting. As if Charoen had layered on muscle instead of metal. There’d be time to explore its capabilities later, but for now…

Incoming data from League Processing Center…

Armor Type: Jäger Reaver Half-Plate

Gamma Frequency: 86 hertz (B-ranked, Apex Zone)

Armor Ranking: B

No Serene, Dynamic, or Apex Zone Armor Abilities detected.

Available Serene Zone Armor abilities:

Again he scanned the familiar powers. Speed had been his go-to, and had served him well. Almost he chose it reflexively once more, but then paused. The hopper pack would aid his mobility enormously… so he carefully read the others again.

One stood out:

■      Telekinetic Barrier: Generate a short-lived barrier that slows down incoming attacks or enemies attempting to pass through. This power is ideal for creating temporary choke points or providing cover when advancing or retreating.

It would have paired beautifully with Gravitational Well. Allowed him to slice and dice the battlefield, manipulating and controlling his foes as he wrecked havoc on their ranks.

But again, he didn’t want to play chess master.

So he selected Speed.

Available Dynamic Zone Armor abilities:

■      Cocooning: Encases the wearer in an energy chrysalis, rendering them impervious to harm but immobile until the containment cycle concludes.

■      Balanced: Stabilizes kinetic posture systems, preventing forced knockdowns or grappling displacement during impact.

■      Centering: Dampens hertz instability, smoothing neural feedback loops to maintain calm focus and steady system output.

■      Ramming: Channels forward momentum through reinforced servos, increasing kinetic impact the longer the charge is sustained.

■      Ominous: Disrupts local hertz fields, the effect intensifying with proximity to foes and eroding their concentration and tactical coherence.

■      Reactive: Generates a brief photonic barrier upon sustaining damage, absorbing a portion of follow-up strikes before collapsing.

■      Regeneration: Activates low-grade bio-reactive plating that slowly repairs tissue and armor integrity over time.

■      Shared Burden: Links allied biosignatures within range, distributing incoming damage evenly across all connected users.

Ominous had been his previous selection, but with Berserker selected, Centering possessed fresh appeal.

Again he turned to the coaches. “Does Centering balance out or interfere with Berserker?”

“Hugely dependent on each person’s Gamma mastery,” said Sindre. “For some, it cancels out the benefits of Berserker’s oscillations. For others, those with the will and focus for it, it allows them to sustain Berserker for far longer than would otherwise be possible.”

Charoen considered.

“Don’t do it,” said Virgil. “Your Gamma is your weakest area. You’re just barely better at focusing than your dead self. Go with Reactive. It doesn’t matter how hard you hit if you’re taken out of the game, and that one should guard you if you’re on the verge of being overwhelmed. Which you will be, if you dominate the game and draw everybody’s attention like you hope.”

Charoen selected Centering.

“God damn it,” muttered Virgil.

“The boy’s got his own wisdom,” said Sindre. “Let him be.”

Virgil crossed his arms. “Is that what we’re calling this? Wisdom?”

“Pay attention, now,” replied Sindre, voice growing hushed. “He’s about to pick his Apex Armor ability. Been waiting since we started to see what he goes for.”

“Best range of options outside of the Quantum Zone,” agreed Carmine, and something akin to excitement had entered his voice at last. “I love Apex Armor abilities. Love ‘em.”

Charoen tuned out their voices.

A new message had appeared in his vision:

Available Apex Zone Armor abilities.

And as he read the options, exhilaration and awe suffused him.