Arc 3 | Chapter 87: A Strange Otherness

“I still don’t think we should be just, like~ hanging out here,” someone sighed, her voice high and aggravating.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve fucking heard your thoughts on the subject already—” a grumpy sounding man replied.

“And every day in the last, what? Six or seven years?” another female voice sighed, although there didn’t seem to be much bite in her words, more good natured teasing, unlike the other voices.

“Felt like longer,” a teenage voice laughed, several members of the group of visitors bursting into fits of deranged giggles as the first person to speak—a young woman with what were most certainly fake silverstrain locks—huffed and crossed her arms.

“I’m just saying this place gives me the creeps,” she muttered at the group, her jaw tensing so hard that her delicate features grew strained and ugly under the pressure. “Don’t forget, the last time you guys didn’t listen to me—”

“We all died~” the teenage boy, his body a tall, gangly thing that Emilia was shocked anyone would willingly choose to run around in, said. He shot the girl a smile that Emilia 100% did not like, and based on the way V‘s hand squeezed around hers, he didn’t like it any better.

“I don’t like them,” he whispered, pulling them back behind the wall they had been subtly poking their heads around—not that either of them were particularly dressed for stealth. V’s now-blonde hair—the previously dirty brown curls having been diligently washed clean by her the night before—and her own silverstrain colouring were not suited for hiding in darkness.

“Me neither,” she agreed, chancing another glance around the corner—the last thing they needed were those weird ass people sneaking up on them. As much as both she and V had already pulled out their own weapons, they had no idea what the other visitors had managed to acquire since arriving. They were already outmatched, their only advantage being that the group had no idea they were there yet. They

needed

to not lose that advantage.

Behind the wall, the group continued to squabble about whether they should find somewhere else to hunker down or not. From what she could make out in the cacophony of overlapping voices, the group had heard some of their louder sex noises, although they had been unable to determine what was the cause of the noise and no one had been inclined to go searching through the cave system.

“It could have been a monster!” another voice, much younger than the others said, and this time when Emilia poked her head around the corner, she was surprised to find a child with bright red hair pouting up at the grumpy man who seemed to be the most adamant that there was nothing hiding in the cave system. She stomped her little foot, glittery pink shoes flashing in the firelight. “I

don’t

want to be eaten by a monster again!”

“That was a pretty terrible way to go,” the teenage boy commented, although they sounded less than genuine, and when Emilia managed to locate who had spoken, she found a grin ripped across their face. Their mouth opened, jaw hinging almost inhumanly low as they stuffed something into their mouth. Red juice spurted out of it, splattering the back of the little girl’s dress.

The girl screamed as she twisted in circles, trying to see the damage. “You!” she started to say, only to cut off when a woman’s voice cut through the mayhem.

“Children,” the newcomer said coldly, her steps cracking over the stony ground as she came into view. “Behave yourselves.”

A ripple ran through the group as the woman looked over them, disapproval clear in her eyes.

Beside her, V tensed, and when Emilia glanced back at him, tucking herself behind the rock wall once more, she could see how wide his eyes were. Even in the dim light of fire flickering around the corner, she could see the shock and concern marring his face.

That was… concerning. It was concerning for a number of reasons, not least of which was this was their only way out. There had been no branching passages on the trek between their climb and here. They couldn’t turn back and descend back down the wall. Even in the real world, with all her abilities intact save her ability to use skills, Emilia wouldn’t have risked the climb. It would mean near certain death, regardless of which world they were in.

Plus, Emilia had never been one for retreating. Straight through had always been her motto!

That was only going to work if V could, you know, snap out of whatever had overtaken him. Emilia waved a hand in front of his eyes. Nothing. She supposed she could pinch him or something, but that seemed like a terrible idea—she had no idea where the man’s instincts on yelling lay. The last thing they needed was for him to accidentally give away their position.

The other option…

Emilia rose onto her toes, wondering if being closer to the other visitor’s height would gather his attention. She blinked as she watched his eyes, their noses almost brushing, and… nope. Nothing. She plopped back down, sighing and beginning to fiddle with her weapons, her attention turning back to the conversation happening between the other group.

From what she could understand, the woman appeared to be mother to the rest of the group, although Emilia had the distinct impression that some of the children were either adopted or just friends of her actual children. Some of them just… spoke in such a wholly different manner that she found it difficult to believe they had all been raised by the same person.

Granted, she knew that every child was different. Rafe and his siblings were certainly different breeds of people, but the

ways

they spoke—the words and inflections they used? Those were the same, more or less. Rafe’s had grown a little more diverse in the years since he had left home, given he worked in a different industry than most of his family. He still sounded like a member of his family, however, no matter how much he generally wished he could escape their shadow.

Emilia sighed, letting herself drop to the ground to peek at the group again, finding each of the previously rowdy visitors now standing like politely chastised children as their mother spoke.

“What kind of noise?” the woman asked, turning towards the one member of the group who had remained largely silent during the exchange.

The shift towards the young man was convenient, as all eyes turned towards him and away from the place where Emilia and V were hidden. She wasn’t about to risk poking her head out much more, but she did take the opportunity to size up the members of the group more properly.

There was the first girl who had spoken. She reminded Emilia so much of her real body that it was eerie. The only real difference was that where her own ass and hips were wide and thick, this girl’s fat was distributed more evenly between her butt and chest. Even her fake silver hair was pulled up in a ponytail, just as her own normally was. This girl’s was far longer, however, wiping hazardously over the stones.

Emilia had once had hair that long. She’d grown it out following the war, some internal protest against the short hair soldiers had been all but required to have during combat. It had been great, for a while, then someone had stepped on it during a raid a second before she had bolted off. Terrible—it had been terrible and painful and ripped a piece of her skin away from her skull! It had been so grotesque that she’d been allowed to leave the raid early—a relatively rare phenomenon—and had required surgery to fix it, which had been… an experience.

She

may

have panicked about the surgery—something that had certainly gone on her permanent record. Well, as permanent a record as ones under a fake name could be, anyways. Mostly, she’d panicked because she knew full well that needing surgery could lead to so many bad things. It could flag her identity as fake in the system, or prompt the OIC System or her Censor to contact her family—or Olivier, if she happened to need an attorney. Someone could take a sample of her DNA to test it for knots and D-Levels, and oh dear nebulae, how many questions that would raise!

So, yeah, she’d panicked. It hadn’t been great, and since then, she’d kept her hair to a respectable, upper thigh length, although there was still the occasional moment where she worried someone would step on it if she was kneeling. People regularly sat on it as well.

Honestly, long hair was kinda a pain? It required work to wash and style—although that had been less of an issue in the last few years, since she and Pria had pooled their paydrops to buy a state-of-the-art styling system. It was the bomb~ but had cost them a small fortune and required an entire season of grinding raids for cash. They’d still been a bit short, but Sil had taken pity on them and covered the remaining 15%—that man was such a sweetheart.

That, or he had been sick of hearing them complain about the raids. Either or.

Regardless, watching the girl’s hair wipe over the ground was giving Emilia flashbacks, and her eyes flickered away, across the rest of her supposed siblings.

There were six in total—seven, if the

Mother

were included. Aside from the

Child

and

Silverstrain Girl

, there was one other woman. Emilia had mostly determined her to be somewhat cheeky, making jokes and puns as the other argued, laughter constantly flowing from her mouth, interlacing with her words. The

Cheeky Girl

was also a grubby thing, reminding Emilia of V with how dirty her tank top and capris were, the skin around it covered in a film of grime that made her look more burnt brown than the white occasionally poking up from under her clothes as she moved.

The other three were men— Well, the one’s avatar was a man, the other two’s leaning more into adolescence. The man—who Emilia dubbed

Grumpy Man

—had spent the majority of the argument telling everyone they were stupid, his face growing increasingly red until he’d eventually stomped off. He was now leaning against a wall a ways away from the other, thick arms crossed over his chest, cropped black hair and deep frown making him look put out.

Of the boys, the one that Emilia had most pegged as not having been raised in the same environment as the others also gave her the most pause. The smile perpetually pulled over the

Gangly Boy’s

face reminded her of people who had black knots and loved it—loved the mayhem and murder that having such low empathy allowed them. His long limbs swayed, almost as though they had extra joints, sending an extra shudder of discomfort through her for how inhuman he looked.

If things came to blows, Emilia would definitely be watching him the closest. It wouldn’t be hard, at least, what with his bright pink hair and pastel clothing. If the one girl looked like her, this guy dressed like her, her favourite colours and normal style reflected in what he had chosen for his avatar. It was a stark contract to the rest of his group—save the child with her sparkling pinks and silver—who were decked out in reds and blacks, as though they were trying to fade in with the locals.

The

Quiet Boy

was by far the most bland, his features so nondescript that Emilia was worried she wouldn’t recognize him if they met again. Light-brown hair and eyes, neutral expression and relaxed posture. There was nothing about him that stood out, even his existence seeming to fade into the background despite the fact that he was currently the centre of attention.

It was fascinating and terrifying in equal measure.

“It sounded like distant moaning,” Quiet Boy was telling his mother, his voice falling gently through the air. “It could have been a monster. It could have been the wind, winding through the tunnels just right.”

“There’s no wind in this place, dumbass,” Gangly Boy laughed, not even flinching when Mother turned hard eyes on him.

She was by far the most severe, black hair pulled back into a tight bun that reminded Emilia of the style worn by soldiers. Her face was scratched over by wrinkles, her lips pulling down into a resting frown. Everything about her avatar told Emilia that it

should

be her real body, for how easily she wore it and how meticulous the details of it were. Something also told her it wasn’t—that none of these people were wearing their own skin.

Yet they were.

It was a strange dichotomy that she wished she could ask V about, given he had more experience with people who raided more. She was nearly positive what she saw in the other visitors was a result of using the same avatars between multiple raids, their brains learning to adapt to their second skin in a way that resulted in a strange

otherness

that her brain didn’t like. Natural and yet not, all at once. Honestly, it was probably the result of those books she had read as a teen, some of them covering topics such as how to spot spies or people affected by illegal, personality manipulating skills.

It hadn’t been until then that Emilia had even considered there could be skills that could manipulate someone else’s brain. Bodies? Sure, but brains? The fact that she had never heard anything more on the topic—never even a whisper of such skills existing outside those books—was perhaps the most obvious evidence that she, Rafe and his brothers should

not

have been reading them. Of course, now Rafe’s brothers had learned that information more officially—potentially used it in their work, not that either were likely to tell her about it. She’d be more likely to get that sort of information from their big mouthed cousin. Honestly, that guy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life—not exactly great, given his occupation required keeping secrets.

What she saw in the group reminded her of some of the things she had read in those books, though. They were walking billboards that screamed something was wrong with them. As far as she knew, most people

did

adapt well to their avatars, even ones that were different genders or species. Unless platforms wanted new heroes to struggle, learning to use your new body should be easy—which made Emilia think that perhaps these people were purposefully shifting their movements into something just a little strange and off-putting.

That, or something was seriously interfering with their ability to fully settle into their bodies—a wholly terrifying idea.

“I still think it was a monster…” the child whined. While the rest of the group were keeping their distance from their mother, Child stepped forward fearlessly. They tugged on the woman’s shirt, looking upwards with beseeching eyes that Emilia was glad she could barely make out, the glow of the fire, casting over their red eyes, making the Child appear to be a demon in a child’s skin. “Mommy~ can’t we get out of here?”

Gangly Boy snorted, and Child turned on him, lips pressed tight. They seemed to grow in that moment, not just their height pulling up slightly straighter, but their entire aura growing and reminding Emilia that they weren’t a child. At the very least, they were in their mid-teens, their Censor a fresh installation. They could very well be far older, however, either mentally stuck in a child’s body, or enjoying the role playing.

“Fine!” Child particularly snarled at the boy, their lips pulling back over perfect white teeth. “You go investigate it then!”

Gangly Boy’s grin sent a shiver down Emilia’s spine. “Only if I can use you as bait, brat.”

“Children…” their mother cut in again, their tone sounding long-suffering and fond even as their eyes shifted venomously between their children. “I believe I told you to behave.”

Her eyes landed on the boy, harder and colder than they were when directed at anyone else in the group. “If you do not believe anything dangerous is out there, I suggest you go check.” Her tone implied that she rather hoped something

was

out there and her so-called child would not return.

If the boy noticed the tone in his mother’s words, he gave no indication. Rather, his grin grew wider, and he pushed off the rock he had been lounging against, the surrounding floor splattered with bloody juices. So much of the food in this world squirting vegetarian blood was like a cruel joke from the system, aimed at vegetarians who didn’t want to eat something so viscerally meaty.

“Fine~ I’ll go,” Gangly Boy crooned, head tilting abnormally as he sized up his mother. “I can kill anything I come across, yes?”

The mother’s eyes shifted, so quickly, Emilia almost questioned whether the woman had ever been looking at the teenage avatar with so much disinterested hatred. “Of course, my love,” she cooed, stepping forward to give the boy a hug. Her steps sent red liquid splattering across the stones, too sincere smile etched over her face until it dropped away in the midst of the hug.

The boy, at least, seemed to hug her back genuinely. If the others in the group noticed to strangeness of the interaction, they gave no indication, and Emilia had no idea what to think about any of them.

All she knew was if that boy found them, he was definitely going to try killing them.

The main question was, fight him one on two—assuming she could get a still zoned out V to come back to reality so they could relocate further down the tunnel—or step out now and try to talk their way around the group. Not that she thought that was likely to work. More likely, they’d end up fighting.

Emilia’s eyes slid to the exit—to the proper light shining gently in through it.

They were so close, and as much as taking on seven people at once seemed like suicide…

Emilia shook herself, images of her and V lying dead under the other group skipping away from her. It was dangerous, yes, but so was trying to fight each member in the cramped tunnel they had just travelled down. Fighting one person in the darkness would be bad enough, but what if his family decided to come when Gangly Boy didn’t return? What if one of them possessed a more violent blood weapon, one capable of killing them if they were trapped in such a cramped space?

No. Both options were bad, but Emilia couldn’t help but think their chances would be better if they faced the group head on.

Emilia popped back behind the wall, half listening to the group discuss how long Gangly Boy should look for and what they would do if he didn’t return.

“I’m gonna go out there,” she whispered to V, only a moment before bolting out of their hiding place.

That

, at least, seemed to snap the man out of his stupor. Not quite fast enough to stop her from putting herself in a potential line of fire, but enough that out of the corner of her eye, she could see him preparing to bolt out and help if a fight broke out.

“Hi!” she cheered, waving empty hands at the group. “Sorry if I startled you, but do you guys happen to know where the exit is?”