End Online: Volume 4 (7 page)

This is the game-famous
‘Cathedral of Blades’, in the game’s most populated place: Swordbreak, the
capital of the Kingdom of Dalbe.

‘Wait. But why am I
here?’ 
I ask the question again
and again in my mind.

There are only two things
left for me to check; my inventory and my player stats. Bringing up my
inventory shows it to be completely empty, except for the beginner armour I am
wearing and two gold coins.

‘Nothing overly
strange there. This is basically what every player starts off with.’

But when I open my player
stats, I realize something is definitely wrong.

I stare at the information
completely stupefied. I have never even heard of something so inconvenient
before.

“Is this some kind of
joke!!?” I roar furiously into the heavens. “Are you trying to mock me,
Xilbril!!?”

-Lost-

Removing the V-Link, I
open my eyes to see the ceiling of my bedroom. My mind is still in a dream-like
state as I roll my head to the side and read the time; 9:14 P.M. according to
my bedside clock. I stare motionlessly for a while, watching the
glow-in-the-dark second hand slowly wind around the clock-face.

One minute turns into the
next, and then into the following; blurring into one long, thoughtless haze.
Before I realize it, half an hour has passed. The room is pitch black, but like
so many times before, I methodically drag myself across the bed and into my
wheelchair.

I wheel myself to the
bathroom while slowly shaking my head back and forth, but fail to clear the
woozy feeling in my head. I make sure to flick the lights on as I go, squinting
more with each new flick of a switch.

The sound of running water
and a sharp icy feeling on my face finally bring me to full alertness. Dipping
my hands once again under the running water, I cup another handful and splash
it over my face.

I dry off with a freshly
cleaned hand towel hanging from a small hook on the wall. Looking around the
bathroom and not seeing a speck of dirt, I nod my head in satisfaction. As of
late, I have been trying extra hard to keep my house as tidy as possible. I do
the task exceptionally well, considering my abilities have become increasingly
limited by my circumstances.

Despite rinsing my face
with cold water, weariness returns shortly after. I decide to head straight to
bed and sleep rather than read the ‘End Online’ forums. My eyelids start to
become heavy and my vision gradually begins to darken.

***************************************************

I hadn’t set my alarm, but
wake quite early nonetheless. Today is Saturday, the first day of the weekend.
If I was still working full time,  I would definitely go back to sleep for
a few more hours. But now that I have become a full time gamer, today is the
same as any other day.

After a light breakfast, I
go back to my bedroom. Just like so many times before, I place the V-Link helmet
on my head and turn it on as naturally as I would blink. In the last moments of
my vision, I glance once more at the time.

7:45 A.M.

The real world slowly
fades away, replaced by grey mist. Usually, this would be when my locker
materializes before me, but this time is different. Instead of dissipating, the
mist remains and a message pops into view.

The message remains until
I finish reading it, at which point the message and the mist disappear to
reveal the real world. Clicking my tongue, I remove the helmet and place it
down next to me.

I had hoped to be able to
log in early and train some of my stats during the spare time before the party
was scheduled to reunite, but now I have to go down to the local game store and
get another full body scan. Just remembering the last one makes me feel uneasy
and embarrassed.

While I am getting ready
to head out, my mobile phone rings.  I’m startled by the call since I
haven’t received even a single call in an extremely long time.

“I wonder who it could
be?” I say aloud while dropping my eyebrows in consternation.

I move over to my desk and
pick up the phone while looking at the mobile display. The call comes up as a
private number. Feeling like this is some form of telemarketing ploy, I
contemplate not answering the call. I have not even purchased phone credits for
my mobile in the past three months as I have had no need of them.

Deciding that there can be
no possible harm in answering the call, I press the ‘Accept’ button and hold
the device up to my ear. Just as I think about hanging up if the person tries
to sell me something, a familiar voice comes through.

“Holly…?”

I nearly drop the phone in
shock, finally hearing a voice so precious again after such a long time.

“Shari?” I ask, doubting
whether or not I identified the voice correctly.

“Holly! It 
is
 you!”
She says with joy.

“What’s going on Shari? I
haven’t heard from you in so long.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!
Aunt Jude refused to let us call you. I tried and tried to phone you… but she
caught me every time.” A few sobs escape from the other side of the line.

“Don’t feel too bad Shari,
I’m sure she has her reasons.”

Deep down, I know her
dislike for me is the most likely reason, but there is no way I can slander my
aunt in front of my little sister.

“So why are you calling me
now? I really do hope you are behaving, Shari?”

“Of course! Well, Aunt
Jude finally let me call you.”

“That’s rather nice of
her. Why did she change her mind?”

“She just l-let me call
you. That’s all.”

I speak with Shari over
the phone for at least half an hour. Apparently, she has started high school
this year at a top-class school. She has made more friends than her older
sister Joelle and really enjoys it.

After our long discussion
on every topic we can think of, Shari puts Joelle on the phone. Joelle talks
for just as long as Shari did, and complains that by the time she transferred
into the new high school last year when they were taken away, everyone had
already formed groups of friends and there was no room for her. As it turns
out, she has made plenty of friends since then; Shari simply has more.

Schooling throughout our
country consists of three levels: primary, secondary, and tertiary. The primary
level is from grades one to six, and often simply called primary school. The
secondary level is from grades seven to twelve, and called either secondary
school or high school. Most people will begin grade seven when they turn
thirteen, and conversely finish year twelve during the year they turn eighteen
and are considered adults.

Tertiary is the name for
all studies conducted after secondary school. There are numerous universities
and organizations providing tertiary study options. The only problem with
tertiary programs is that ever since corporations gained more power than the
government, all the funding for these courses has stopped. Only the elite, rich
families have the option to send their children to these classes. The idea of
being able to attend a university is only a dream for people like us in the
outer district.

Once the phone call ends,
I allow my mind and body to slowly empty itself of all my worries. For the
first time in a long time, I feel at peace. However, the moment I begin seeing
the world in brighter colors, my phone rings again. Picking up the phone, I see
it is yet another private number.

My first thought is that
the girls are calling me again, but I’m confused as to why they would be
calling back so soon. Deciding that there is only one way to find out, I answer
the phone.

“Hollis, this is Jude.”

“A-Aunt!? Why are you
calling me?”

“How rude. Don’t you have
any manners?”

“Sorry. It is pleasant to
hear from you, Jude.” I deliberately avoid calling her ‘Aunt’, a petty way of
saying that she is no aunt of mine.

“Tch. I don’t wish to
banter with you over this, so I will make it quick. I want you to stay away
from Joelle and Shari.”

“Excuse me? You can’t keep
them away from me!” I had just spoken with them again after all this time. The
mere thought of letting this woman take them away from me again fills me with loathing.
Not just at her, but at myself as well.

“Shut up! I can and I
will. You are a failure. You have gotten yourself nowhere, and you are heading
nowhere. I am ashamed that I am in the same family as you. These girls are
young, they have the chance to move up in the world and make something of
themselves. They just need the proper guidance, which isn’t from you.”

“…”

“However, the girls have
been quite adamant that they see you. Ever since I took them in, they have been
showing petty little rebellions. To be frank, it is tiresome. I have agreed to
let them speak with you once a week; on the weekend when it won’t distract them
from their education.”

“How kind of you.” I say
in a cold tone. I normally don’t have any particular hatred for the aunt who
never speaks to me, but now I feel like I am about to explode.

“That is all. I am simply
calling you to warn you that if you even attempt to sway them in any way, all
contact between you will cease. I am the guardian of these children, so until
they are adults, I will guide them as I see fit.”

“…”

“I will take your silence
as your agreement. I will send you a message with my number if you need to
contact me.”

With a light clicking
noise, Aunt Jude abruptly ends the call. My previous good mood is now gone. I
want to be able to do more and actually see my two little sisters, but it is
like trying to fight with my hands tied.

I force my anger and
regrets aside, focusing on what I have right now. I can now speak with my two
little sisters, which is more than I have had for the past six months. Who
knows what things will be like in another six months?

‘Although they didn’t
tell me about how they have been rebelling against that woman to come see me. I
truly have to thank them.’

Tidying myself up and
pocketing my wallet, phone, keys and V-Link storage card, I roll myself out the
front door. The fresh, crisp air fills my lungs to the brim, a feeling that no
game can completely imitate.

I make my way to the local
station, E-127442; a shameful six digit station. Boarding the first inbound
train, I quickly arrive in the downtown district.

‘Apparently, Aunt
Jude lives in the downtown district. I recall my parents mentioning it once in
the past.’  

I hastily leave the
station to get the the shopping center called ‘The Fort’. The mall is
incredibly large, and being here fills me with nostalgia. The last time I was
here is when I first learned of ‘End Online’.

Once inside, my wheelchair
rolls along the polished-marble tile floor without any friction. My eyes are
glued straight forward as I head to my desired location: the hair salon.

While I do need to update
my body scan, I need a haircut just as bad.

“Good morning, sir. How
may I help you today?” A beautiful young blonde girl asks me as I come into the
shop.

“I would like to get my
hair cut.” I give her a hearty smile.

“Of course, come right
through. One of our hairdressers just became free.” Although she said to come
through, she swiftly moves behind me and pushes me further into the shop. As
soon as I am positioned in front of a large mirror, the blonde girls takes out
a hidden brush and pair of scissors from her belt.

“So how would you like it
cut today?” She asks, looking me directly in the eye through the mirror and
causing me to blush.

“Oh, you are the
hairdresser.” I murmur shyly.

“Of course, just became
free!” She responds to my barely audible whisper like she has super hearing.

“I’m not entirely sure how
I would like it cut. I just know that it has been far too long since my last
haircut,” I pick up a few locks of hair and dangle them in front of my face. “I
want to cut it off.”

“Any particular style?”
She fiddles with my hair to show me where she can cut it at and how to make it
look in the end.

“That one!” I almost shout
at her when she displays one of her ideas.

“Not a problem, please
bear with me for a moment.”

I end up getting my hair
washed, cut, trimmed, and then washed again. After all the hard work is done,
the pretty, blonde hairdresser blowdries my hair until all the remaining
moisture is gone.

Looking in the mirror, I
see a whole new person. With my bangs reaching just past my eyebrows, my hair
has become much shorter. I run my hand through my hair. The rugged brown hair
effortlessly slides in between my fingers as my hand passes through, falling
back down to rest in its original position afterwards.

“Why is it, that whenever
a hairdresser washes my hair, it always comes out cleaner than when I do it?” I
ask curiously, marvelling at how clean my hair feels.

“That’s a trade secret.” A
small giggle escapes her lips.

I lightly sigh as she
takes me to the front counter.

“That will be twenty
dollars.”

“Thank you,” I say, while
paying with my bank card.

As she says she hopes to
see me again, I put the salon behind me. Despite the size of the mall, I have
no interest in all the brand name apparel, furniture, and electronic outlets. I
have some interest in the shops selling household goods and kitchen
necessities, but that is about it.