Butterknife spent a while talking with the old man in Nous before deciding to resurrect him. He lectured him on the danger of his job class. It had impressive buffing capabilities, but at the cost of turning into an insane rage monster bent on killing everything. He decided not to bring up his real life drinking.
They agreed it was best for Butterknife to carry all the alcohol in his inventory, and only dish out a necessary supply to Spencer before battles.
When he was revived, he had a new debuff: Light Weight. Apparently, this was the result of getting drunk enough to literally die. The debuff made it so he would get drunk twice as fast. Considering his Liquid Courage skill was based on the amount of alcohol he drank, this effectively halved his offensive capabilities. The debuff lasted a week, which meant it would be there until the end of The Zombie Apocalypse. A serious blow to their offensive limits.
Unfortunately, Donna had not survived. Her final words were something about taking care of Bytes. Butterknife had no intention of doing such a thing.
Because she had not survived, it meant the quest could no longer be completed, and Camilia received a failed quest notification from the Journey app. At first she lamented, but then she read her notifications and found she had leveled up, granting her the resurrection spell. The spell had a long cooldown, 10 minutes between each casting, but she managed to resurrect her entire group.
Her husband, Basic, expressed his sincere thanks, but the two 15 year-olds just sort of mumbled something. Butterknife wasn't sure if they couldn't speak aloud very well, or were just extremely shy in the presence of strangers. It must have been a huge problem communicating between the four of them since Nous Telepathy was only between party members.
There was a load of loot and notifications to go through, which Butterknife dealt with while Camilia was busy resurrecting her group.
Coach: You absolute legend! First boss battle done! And the boss was more than five levels above you? You punched so far above your weight class, physics called about filing a complaint. Who's your daddy?! Certainly, not me, I'm your coach and it would be very inappropriate for me to... Let's stop this line of thought.
+1 to acclaim
Wait, only one?! The system's rigged! But I'll take it.
You've earned the title "Dumb but alive."
He made a mental note to find the Hall of Fame in Equinox to see about these rewards acclaim would get him. Next were the health notifications, which he just dismissed. A level notification came next, bumping him up to level nine. He gained an offensive skill called Verbose Vow.
Wiki: Verbose Vow - creates an ethereal copy of the weapon the skill user is currently holding. This copy spins around the user in an expanding circle, eventually disappearing. If a copy hits an enemy combatant, it passes through them, but still hurts like hell, causing 75% of the weapon's base damage.
The skill could be used 6 times in a row before a cooldown was triggered, and the mana cost was low. Butterknife still had to test it in actual combat, but he thought this would become his main form of attack. His smite would technically do more damage per hit, way more, but it could only be used once or twice in battle with the long cooldown. Plus, the smite could only be used on one enemy, and this could potentially hit everything around him. Combining this with Blessed and other damage stacks would make this powerful.
Before resurrecting Spencer and while Camilia was still weeping at not being able to revive her group, Butterknife had walked around and put all the loot in his inventory. Zir and Donna dropped the most notable loot, and upon inspection, he found that all the berserkers on the first floor were also dead, so he snatched up all their loot as well. Well, not all of them were dead. Reddis pursed his lips assessing the damage, and the healer sat legs crossed, knitting.
Now that Camilia was chatting with her group and Spencer hunched guiltily on the bed petting Bytes with his one remaining arm, he thought it was a good time to go through it.
Most of it was garbage and there was very little actual gold since Lek and Supaporn stole most of it, but he still picked through the findings. There were healing and mana potions. A few scrolls that cast a one-time spell, like FireBolt, Cloud of Carbon Monoxide and other low level spells. Tons of unenchanted axes of all variety. A couple of them had damage bonuses, so he gave one to Spencer in place of his broken club. There were a few of note:
Wiki: Smoldering Streetwear of The Infinite
These boots are what happens when hellfire meets haute couture. The soles are perpetually warm (perfect for those chilly morning raids), and they leave tiny flame emojis with each step.
Grants the following effects:
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+2 Dexterity
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+25% fire resistance
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Running speed increased by 15%
Grants access to the following skill:
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This Is Fine - Allows the wearer to walk on lava for up to 10 seconds. This is a passive skill.
He thought about keeping these for himself, but Spencer was still wearing his house slippers from London and decided to hand them over.
Wiki: The Prima Ballerina's Tutu
This tutu materializes in a shower of pink sparkles whenever the wearer performs a perfect pirouette. However, its true genius lies in its ability to transform from fluffy tulle into a whirling dervish of razor-sharp enchanted steel - because nothing says "surprise attack" quite like weaponized ballet.
Grants the following effects:
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+1 Armor Class in metal form
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+3 Dexterity
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Spinning attacks deal an additional 2d6 slashing damage while in metal form.
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+40% chance to draw aggro from all nearby creatures when materialized.
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The wearer will always hear "Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy" during combat.
"I'm not fucking wearing that," Spencer said.
Butterknife just grinned for now. He would definitely get him to wear it.
The only other item of note was a piece of paper looted from one of the berserkers downstairs.
Wiki: House Deed
A completely legitimate-looking piece of parchment that makes real estate agents nervous whenever it's shown. This magical deed bends both space and property laws, allowing the owner to manifest a fully-staffed House in any city without those pesky "zoning permits" or "construction time." NPC servants pop into existence already knowing your preferred breakfast menu and exactly how you like your towels folded.
Grants the following effects upon usage:
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Establishes a permanent residence in any city of choice.
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Owner becomes a noble.
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Comes with a staff of 5 to 10 NPCs who are suspiciously good at their jobs.
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Creates a magical waypoint for instant travel for House members.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Caution: Only a standing member of a guild may use this item.
That was very interesting. Butterknife knew that Nouscraft had a social class system comprised of noble houses at the top. He had already heard about two of them. House LaMonica controlled the city guard, and House Basch that had something to do with food supply, who were having trouble getting into the city with all the zombies outside.
Apparently, this item would allow them to create a new noble House. He wondered what the connection was between being a member of a guild and becoming an aristocrat. He put the item away for now.
He felt Camilia looking at him with an arched eyebrow. "Well, aren't you going to share?"
Around the room, disapproving eyes fell on him. Bytes tilted his head.
Deciding it wasn't worth the trouble, he dumped all the items he looted except for the House Deed and the tutu, and let the other Nousheads divvy it up. Loot was going to be a problem at some point.
Spencer: What's the story on my arm? I'm at full health but it's not back. I can feel it slowly grow back though.
Aida: Dismemberment has a different set of rules. Usually when you are healed or resurrected, you lose all your scars, and you get yourself a nice clean set of clothes. If you lose an arm, however, it's different. It's permanent unless it is regenerated within 24 hours. Typically this means you have to find a cleric to sit there and cast regenerate on you for a full day, but lucky for you, your Iron Liver skill is regenerating it for you. Iron Liver is still at level 1, so the effect is sluggish. I calculate it will be fully regenerated within 24 hours. All good.
Oh, one thing. I would suggest not getting your head cut off. That's permadeath.
Spencer just nodded and continued to cradle Bytes with his one good arm. The half-orc's eyes were glazed with guilt, likely remembering his drunken rampage.
"We can't leave him here alone," Spencer muttered.
"Leave who? The dog?"
"Aye the dog."
"The guild will take care of it." Butterknife gestured at the mess around them. "We have our own problems."
"I'm taking him with us."
"It's an NPC dog. It's not even real-"
"Neither is your fancy armor, but here we are."
Butterknife sighed. The chihuahua stared at him with eyes that somehow managed to look judgy.
A notification interrupted them.
Jiem: It's been 24 hours since the game started. Can't believe it's only been that long. Anyway, remember when I said that Nousheads outside of London would be able to watch a live stream of you while you're in VR? Some of you are very popular! Billions of views.
I don't want you London Nousheads feeling like that world has ended when you find a savepoint just because everyone is collapsed on the ground slowly dehydrating to death, so I've added a new screen for you all to look at. Analytics! It will allow you to see your personal streaming stats. How many views. How many people favorited your channel. Annnd, a list of people who viewed you most. You don't even need to pay a monthly fee to access your analytics.
Please check it out at the next savepoint, you dopamine addicted hooligans.
No one commented. A wave of guilt came over Butterknife.
Solemnly, they all made their way downstairs where Ultimax stood in the doorway, jaw hanging open at the destruction. Tables were splintered, chairs reduced to kindling, and dead berserkers littered the floor.
"I was gone twenty minutes." The were-bear's good eye fixed on Spencer. "You did this?"
Spencer shifted uncomfortably, Bytes tucked against his chest.
"Join us." Ultimax's scarred face split into a grin. "Anyone who can wreck my guild hall like this belongs here. And we've now got plenty of space."
After a short ceremony of grunts which didn't seem to have any purpose, Ultimax gave Spencer a guild coin, and a permanent Member of the Berserker's Guild title appeared next to his name.
They said quick goodbyes to Camilia's family who suggested they were going to look into a rumor they heard about a zombie that could speak English. The cleric gave them a grateful wave as they headed out, her husband fussing at the teenagers.
Outside, they sulked on the path to the Quest Board to broadcast their message. The Thirsty debuff appeared over Butterknife's head.
"Let's go to the savepoint. There's one a couple blocks away."
"I can't leave Bytes just sitting there at the savepoint," Spencer said. "Someone will take him."
"Trust me, no one will take him. Look at him."
The bat gremlin showed his teeth. They learned from Aida that they wouldn't be able to put the dog directly in their inventory, but pets had a special option. They could be boarded in a magical kennel that would allow them to safely go into the inventory.
"I'll meet you at the Quest Board. On the way I'll look for a shop that sells a kennel."
Butterknife nodded, and they parted ways.
A large group of Nousheads were standing outside the savepoint as if they were preparing for something. One of them asked where he worked, an aggressive looking half-troll named Vivashek77. His instincts told him that this group's intentions were dubious.
"I'm crowdfunded," he told them.
"Fellow creator." Vivashek smiled, foam on the corners of his mouth. Apparently, that was an acceptable answer. And with that, he passed into the savepoint.
You are exiting Nouscraft.
He felt mentally exhausted with all that happened. A bottle of water waited for him in his London flat, which he sipped on while his drone got him a cup of tea. There would be enough time. He hit the toilet before plopping in his computer chair. He sipped at the water some more.
Jiem's message about the Londoner's slowly dying of thirst haunted him. Something was off. If what Camilia said was true, and there was an english speaking zombie, it meant that the zombies were more than mindless mobs put in Nouscraft.
Butterknife: Correct me if I'm right, but humans can only live without water for about three days, right?
Aida: Yuuup.
Butterknife: The World Quest. The Zombie Apocalypse quest, I mean. The Journey app said we'd have "three days, give or take," meaning Journey didn't know exactly how long the quest would be.
Aida: Careful. You're thinking awfully hard.
Butterknife: The zombies are the Londoners.
Journey: World Quest Update!
Look, folks, we've got millions of very polite zombies who are basically turning into walking beef jerky out there! Our Thirst KPIs are through the roof! And the roof is on fire. We actually do need some water or the motherfucker will burn!
What we require, and I'm so excited to synergize with you on this, are two items:
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Wisdom of the Masses
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Conversation's Salt
I've marked the items on your map. Once you touch them together, a Zombie Portal will open at that location allowing the zombies to exit Nouscraft just in time for tea. After your party saves 290 or more zombies, a Noushead Portal will open for you. This special portal will allow you to leave World 1. Isn't that lovely?
Think of it as a team-building exercise, but with more portals and fewer trust falls!
He wavered. He felt dead inside.
"We've been killing people," Butterknife whispered.
Spencer: Uh, hey Naifu. I just got a quest update on the zombies. You do something?
Butterknife: I'll meet you at the Quest Board. We've got a lot of work to do.
Forgetting about his tea, he re-entered the VR.
You are now entering Nouscraft.
The scene before him took a second to sink in. Immediately in front of him, Vivashek's group had completely surrounded a female wood elf, Mindt.
"Fucking Synapto cunts!" someone from the group shouted.
Mindt held up her hand, saying something to the group but it was drown out in noise to hear, then she took something out of her inventory.
Butterknife looked for a place to use hide in shadows and found a stack of wooden crates behind the savepoint. Safely hidden, he tried to make sense of it all. What was happening here? Was the Vivashek group hunting people who worked at Synapto? Did they blame the company for putting them in this game? They really should be blaming him. He did this to them, to everyone.
His eyes widened in realization. Mindt worked at Synapto. She must. This was their ticket to shut down Jiem and his security hole. Everything depended on Mindt.
He looked for her in the crowd, but the situation intensified. Guards were on their way now, shouting erupted, weapons flashed. A zombie inexplicably was limping its way to the savepoint. A zombie in the city?
"Kill her!" someone shouted, and to his horror, he saw Mindt crash against a wall, little shards of ice trailing everywhere. The zombie blocked his view, pounding on the savepoint barrier trying to get in. What the hell was it doing?
No time. He had to get to Mindt, then he hesitated. Actually, maybe it was better to let her die. Then the hunting group would move on, and he could rezz her. That is, if they left her corpse alone. Maybe they would bring it with them, wherever they were going. Too many things to consider.
Suddenly, a deafening roar came from the zombie. Butterknife staggered and tripped. A scream pierced the air, followed by the thunder of running feet. He got up and saw the face of death. The zombie was now a level 20 corporeal revenant, tearing everyone to shreds. It tossed the lifeless body of a guard to the side and sprinted towards Mindt. The wood elf had fallen down in the commotion, and there was water everywhere.
Butterknife stepped out of the shadows and hit the revenant with Righteous Lecture, then immediately used hide in shadows again. The revenant stopped mid-stride. He couldn't fight the creature, but he could buy Mindt some time. She disappeared out of the mouth of the alleyway, and the recovered revenant gave chase.
Leaving the shadows again, he followed out of the alleyway. As he rounded the corner, he saw a collapsed fruit stand, oranges and apples scattered across the cobblestones. Mindt lie trapped beneath the wooden wreckage, then she fired a purple force that sprayed wood and splinters all over the place. She continued blasting at a grotesque creature that towered over her.
Its unhinged jaw dripped saliva as it advanced. Each blast from the female struck true but barely seemed to faze the monster. Its elongated fingers ended in razor-sharp claws that plunged into her stomach. She was dead, he thought.
A flash of silver light erupted. A level 85 NPC, "Lord Roland", materialized from the light, his blade already in motion. The sword swept through the air in a perfect arc, separating the revenant's head from its shoulders. The body crumpled, confetti everywhere.
This was the actual zombie apocalypse, he thought. When they die in the real world, they turn into this.
Roland healed Mindt and conversed with her.
"A zombie transformed into this monstrosity?" Lord Roland said, pointing a lolly at the headless corpse of the revenant.
Mindt nodded her head at the man.
Lord Roland said, "Dire news. We will need to purge the zombies outside of the city before any more can transform."
"Wait!" she said desperately. "Lord Roland, there's something you should know." She turned to the crowd of Nousheads gathered. "There's something you all should know."
She took a moment to say something to another Noushead standing close by, a bald man named PETPO.
The woman turned her attention back to the crowd, brushing fruit pulp from her clothes. "These zombies out there, they're not NPCs."
"They're the Londoners who didn't enter the game," Butterknife cut in, his voice hollow.
Her eyes, golden and piercing, locked onto his.
"How did you know?" she said. "We were the first to…" she trailed off, seeming to remember something.
"We should talk."