Omega Point

“Hi Jeff, its me, Misty!”

The gorgeous young woman called out, rushing forward, arms outstretched, exuberantly wrapping her lithe form around him in an intimate embrace.

Taken by surprise, Jeff had to exert some strength to physically pry the athletic girl off himself. Holding her at arms length, he took a moment to check out the distracting beauty wriggling in his grip. Everything about the vivacious girl seemed designed to distract him. Her tail seemed to have a life of its own, darting forward to caress his cheek as he held her at arms length.

Flustered, he put her down on the floor.

“Wh-what the hell? Why do you look like that?” He exclaimed, cheeks reddening.

“Why Jeff, I thought this appearance would be pleasing to you. I have made a study of your species, and variations of this body type appear frequently in your popular culture. The Tournament isn’t all about fighting and brute strength, you know…it has a certain ‘showbiz’ aspect, too. I’m here to help you with that…”

“Its just a bit of a cliché…Why is it always cat women and never cat men?” Jeff questioned.

Misty’s face fell slightly at his reaction. Pouting theatrically, and looking slightly downcast, she continued, “I can change my body type if you like…”

Realizing any attempt to unravel the madness was futile, Jeff gave up.

“Never mind,” he sighed, collapsing into one of the leather armchairs.

Misty started babbling excitedly as he slumped in the chair.

“We’ve got a lot to cover Jeff! I really want to maximize your earnings as we progress through the training stage. We need to build up a solid fan-base, work on your media presence, and get you prepped for the next rounds of the Tournament…”

Jeff half-listened to Misty’s marketing spiel, his mind still fixated on her appearance in spite of his best efforts.

“Why change your looks now, and not back in the training room?” he asked, interrupting her.

“Like I said Jeff, this is a pocket universe created by VogelCorp. Different protocols apply here.” Misty settled into the armchair opposite him, deliberately making a show of crossing and uncrossing her long, lycra clad legs.

Despite himself, Jeff’s gaze lingered on her. It was like Misty had been designed with exactly his tastes in mind. Shrugging off the distraction, Jeff struggled to concentrate on what she was saying, trying to ignore the itch of lust that the cat-woman’s carefully designed appearance seemed to provoke.

“Participation in The Tournament is strictly restricted to corporeal biological entities, such as yourself. As a semi-autonomous AI, I’m severely constrained in my interactions—even the quantity of data I can share within a given time is limited. But here, outside of the boundaries of the Tournament, those rules do not apply. This is an artificial, pocket universe and I’m occupying an avatar shell. It’s a loophole, taking advantage of a quantum side effect that lets two versions of the same entity exist simultaneously. Anyway, enough boring stuff. Let’s talk about your media presence…”

Jeff digested this technical data in silence for a moment, tuning out as the AI continued to ramble on about her marketing campaign.

“…polish your look, maybe a signature costume, something from your cultural heritage. How do you feel about wearing a kilt or a sombrero? Something iconic, to really get the buzz going…”

Jeff tried to interrupt Misty’s marketing pitch, determined to extract more concrete information about the System universe. But it proved difficult—every time he steered the conversation towards politics or history, the slippery AI redirected it back back towards branding or publicity.

Sifting through Misty’s effusive, propaganda-laden praise for the Vogels and her outright lies about the fair and just society they had built, Jeff began to piece together a clearer picture. Misty’s alien masters manipulated a functionality of the System—World Champions—to perpetuate never-ending localized wars across the many Sectors of the vast System Universe. These war zones, or ‘Tournaments’ were populated by representatives plucked from newly assimilated worlds, subsumed into the System, as well as weaker species teetering on the fringes of the existing order. When a species suffered a defeat, it provided the Vogels with a pretext for conquest, giving their expansion a veneer of legitimacy. Jeff realized, that, to the Vogels, war was simply politics by other means.

Another tool of control was the sham ‘Community of Equals’—no more than a talking shop populated by puppets of the Vogels. The Tournament itself acted as both a carrot and a stick, deepening divisions among species and fueling the insecurities and weaknesses of the fringe dwelling majority.

After pressing Misty repeatedly for more information, the AI eventually clammed up, refusing to offer any more useful information.

“These weighty matters are perhaps best explored later. Your goal at this stage, Jeff, first and foremost, is to build your following on the Metaweb, and of course to master the ways of power… Learn how to more efficiently cultivate mana and make the best use of your Skills.”

Springing to her feet, Misty announced, “Hurry… Let me explain the facilities here in the store and we can get on with the training. Time’s a-wastin.”

Reluctantly, Jeff rose from the extremely comfortable armchair and followed Misty over to the large mahogany desk. An exquisite, antique looking oil painting in a gaudy frame hung on the wall facing them. Bizarrely, the portrait, in a style reminiscent of Rembrandt or some other Old Master, depicted a Vogel foppishly dressed as an eighteenth century dandy, bewigged and powdered, astride a thoroughbred horse.

Studiously ignoring the painting, Jeff stood next to Misty in front of the desk.

“This room is an adjunct of the main store. Here you can research and purchase Skills, Spells and Cantrips. Give it a go.”

Dutifully touching the surface of the Skills Console, a new dialog sprang open in Jeff’s mind, listing a huge compendium of additional Skills available to his Class. Scrolling backwards and forwards through the detailed information and getting a feel for the interface, Jeff found he was able to filter the Skills to only show those available to lower leveled players such as himself. The Skills on offer were sorted in a neat format, with textual descriptions as well as graphics showing them in action.

Shadow Walker, Arctic Touch…. Gorgon’s Gaze, Elemental Command, Phase Shift…. Razor Gale, Temporal Strike… Dimensional Step, Gravity Leap, Spirit Tether… Wound Weave, Essence Infusion…Withering Frost…Binding Roar…Blade Pavane… Multi-Shot…Transmutation Fist…

The interface was so immersive, and the list of Skills so large that as Jeff stood at the console, he felt wave after wave of information flooding his mind, threatening to send him over the edge into cognitive overload.

Elixir Mist, Matter Morph, Mystic Zest, Frost Fire, Lightning Lure, Cloud Cover, Hemomancer’s Command, Sanguine Shield…Mana Resonance…

Misty placed her arms familiarly around his shoulders as he stood at the console, snuggling closer as she spoke.

“As you can see, Jeff, there is in actual fact, no limit to the catalog of Skills available to each class. Not to mention cracked Skills, Abilities granted through the contemplation of Daos, and a plethora of additional powers to be gained from advanced Mana Cultivation. Skills are bestowed upon System-dwellers in a variety of ways; Some are System-allocated, others can be purchased, and some can be gifted as boons by your adoring fanbase.”

Sorting the available Skills by price revealed that the cheapest one capable of a ranged attack, [Mana Burst], was on sale for a hefty five-hundred coins. Along with the text description were a bunch of seriously cool videos, showcasing the Skill’s effects at various stages of a user’s evolution.

The first clip featured a hooded humanoid—identified only as a compatible Grade J class—hurling what appeared to be blue flaming fireballs at a moving target. Each fireball detonated on impact, causing further splash damage in a two meter square area of effect.

As the holder of the Skill evolved in Grade, the power of the Skill escalated, becoming increasingly deadly. The next video in the marketing pack featured a Grade F player clad in black armor, astride a huge warhorse-analog. The knight unleashed a single, devastating blast of neon blue energy, a solid bar of force that turned an entire hillside into a smoldering crater.

Note to self, Jeff thought. Get Mana Burst ASAP.

Misty took him by the hand, and pressing herself way too close to him, motioned towards the door.

Jeff resisted for a second, curious about the seemingly infinite rows of books lining the walls, receding into the distance.

“What’s in all those books?” He questioned.

“Runes. Some spells and incantations as well, but mostly runes,” she intoned in a mock-solemn tone. “Magicians, wizards and bards can browse the reference section of the library to hone their craft. We can have a look at those later, after you have mastered the basics of runic engraving and mana manipulation.”

Jeff allowed himself to be guided out of the library and through the store front. Misty, curtly nodding at the still immobile robot behind the counter, led him directly towards the door marked ‘Forge’.

The door opened onto a utilitarian workshop, dominated by a large metal topped workbench in the center of the floorspace. An imposing black anvil stood on the flagstones at the far end, facing an unlit furnace, its mouth agape. Shelves laden with an array of tools lined the walls on either side—tongs of varying sizes, hammers ranging from small delicate mallets to heavy sledges, chisels with razor sharp edges and various other implements of indeterminate usage.

In one corner, a separate bench caught Jeff's eye. This one was more refined, meticulously organized with etching tools, gravers, and burins. Clearly, this station was designed for performing intricate engraving work.

In the other corner, a substantial cauldron made of the same dark metal as the anvil, hung suspended over an unlit fireplace. Adjacent to the cauldron, a table was set up with a bizarre collection of equipment; an old-fashioned copper alembic nestled against a delicate glass retort, its long neck glinting in the stark overhead light—neither of which would have looked out of place in a medieval alchemists workshop, while a rack of sleek modern test tubes and beakers could have been lifted from a state-of-the-art chemistry lab.

Underneath the shelving, the walls on either side were meticulously covered with an array of cupboards and bins. These storage units were crammed full of raw materials, to be used in the process of forging and crafting. The assortment included various commonplace metals such as steel, brass, bronze and copper, along with various types of wood and different qualities of leather. It seemed that the Tournament creators were generous with mundane materials, no doubt wishing to encourage those embarking on crafting Paths.

Misty, meanwhile had moved over to the workbench in the center of the room, and was spread out along its length, lying down on her stomach in a rather lascivious pose. Winking at him, she breathily whispered, “If only we had more time, Jeff…”

Trying his best to ignore Misty’s ridiculous provocations, Jeff moved around the room, examining the various pieces of equipment on display.

“Weapons…elixirs…enchantments…” Jeff murmured to himself as he navigated his way around the forge, trying to work out the functions of the different tools.

Jeff decided to spend his remaining coins on equipment and supplies. Returning to the main store room, he again approached the impassive robot, Boz behind its counter and turned to the issue of defense and offense. Now that his wound was healed, he was able to study the options available in the Store Catalog in more detail. One thing he noticed was that the items available were restricted to his Grade—every item above Grade J was greyed out, inaccessible.

“As you level up you will find the quality of Store items available to you will improve,” Misty explained.

“You are limited to purchasing Grade J items currently. But that doesn’t mean you can’t find higher Grade items in the Tournament. Often, the System will award treasures of a more advanced level as bonuses or rewards. Also, you’ll find you’ll be awarded better quality loot items as you defeat other contestants, even NPCs,”

The equipment and magical items on offer in the Store were ranked from Common, through Uncommon to Medium, then Rare and Peak, the rank heavily influencing their price.

His options were limited to a few basic choices, but Jeff finally settled on a coat of [Chain Mail] for fifty coins, which added two points to his Defense attribute. The downside was the weight of the armor, at least twenty pounds of extra bulk.

ITEM: [Chain Mail] ITEM TYPE: Armor

ITEM CLASS: Common, Grade J, +2 Defense (Not Stackable)

REQUIREMENTS: None

EXPANDABLE: (Not Expandable)

DESCRIPTION: Basic brigandine armor composed of interlocking metallic chain mesh on leather, designed to cover torso and arms. Can be worn in conjunction with other pieces of armor such as a cuirass, greaves and vambrace.

With nearly all his remaining funds, he purchased a short sword for seventy five coins, which was similar to a Roman gladius in that it did not have a hilt. Jeff would have preferred a hilted weapon, especially as his hands were not protected by the chain mail, but all he had remaining were thirty-two coins.

ITEM: [Short Sword]

ITEM TYPE: Melee weapon

ITEM CLASS: Common, Grade J, +2 Offense (Not Stackable)

REQUIREMENTS: At least one grasping organ

EXPANDABLE: (Not Expandable)

DESCRIPTION: A heavy pommelled classical short sword, good for thrusting attacks.

Practicing a few basic stances and swings with the sword, Jeff was disappointed with the weight and balance. The weapon was clumsier than he would have liked, a little heavy in the grip. The edge of the blade was not the sharpest either, but he would hopefully be able to upgrade his kit at a later stage. He needed some form of melee weapon other than a knife immediately, and this was all he could afford. A ranged weapon would have been preferable but the cheapest bow or even spear was way out of his price range.

His thoughts turned once again to the pressing issue of food. He was disappointed to discover that while the Catalog contained a myriad of devices and weapons, both magical and mundane, there was not a single edible item in stock. His belly growled in disappointment—he couldn’t recall the last time he had eaten a proper meal. Then, he remembered the hotdog stand in the weird fairground.