A New World, an immersive game experience

"What happened?" Ceph asked as soon as Eldrian recovered from the headache he had. Having tried to spry into his changing environment as he exited the voidstone—instead of simply letting everything blur.

"Seems voidstones have a pocket dimension in them? Connected to them?" Eldrian mumbled in reply. "I think it is the former. Solvi, do you know anything about dimensional items?"

"Sadly, not much." The dwarf replied. "Haven't dabbled in it myself, Mov Crystals are too rare. But if what you say is true, then perhaps the voidstone allows for a more advanced type of dimensional manipulation?"

Solvi paused, recalling all that she knew of dimensional storages. They all had this neat feature wherein times more or less froze for any item placed inside. The effect is greater for Chosen with their inventories, but time passed slower in all standard dimensional storages.

However, according to Eldrian—and if his internal clock can be trusted for judging time—then the voidstone somehow retained normal time flow. This might sound like a negative, but it would explain why he could enter it—when living things generally cannot survive within dimensional inventories.

Sadly, as she had never attempted to make a dimensional ring or necklace herself, Solvi couldn't speculate further on the inner workings. She also suspected this was more because of Skepsi's involvement than the stone's powers itself.

"You think so?" Eldrian questioned. "What of Crystoi?" Reminded of the near broken spear in his hand, Eldrian shifted the topic. "Can you fix it?" He asked, holding the spear out towards Solvi.

A glance was enough for Solvi to tell the extent of the damage. Luckily, the blades weren't overly damaged, the shaft might need replacing and the elemental crystals certainly did.

"It will take some time, but yes." Solvi replied, taking out a type of gel that she smeared over the cracked crystals. Stopping their mana from leaking any further. "It's only a temporary measure, but this should buy us time. We should head back to my smithy."

—

""Cheers!"" A group of three dwarves and one human clashed mugs together, celebrating the last day of their watch at what had become known as the reaver canyon.

Downing her drink, Vivian smiled. They had finally managed it. Finally, a wall had been constructed, cannons installed, and the endless reaver wave pushed back. From here on, no one would have to die keeping them at bay.

"What are you thinking about?" Logar asked, one of the three survivors of their group. Originally there had been eight, their squad had almost been eradicated.

"I'm just happy that no one else had to die." Vivian replied.

"I'll drink to that!" Logar shouted with a laugh, and Vivian joined him.

After a few hours of merrymaking, Vivian left and wandered the camp by herself. Theas had gone to report their success to the local lord of Braxhold that the walls were completed and the reavers repelled.

As she wandered, Vivian saw many drunk dwarves, and also many wandering spirits. She had grown accustomed to this sight and could even control it when she wanted. Today, however, she was searching for someone.

She soon left by the small door next to the gate, the guards letting her through without any fuss. She was well known among the dwarves as the valkyrie of flames.

Once, only once, she had mumbled about the nickname that everyone back home used to call her. And since, they wouldn't drop it.

The thought made her smile. Her feelings on the nickname were a mixed bag. She used to be proud of it. Believing herself strong. Then reality had hit her like a tsunami and she learned she wasn't.

But she wasn't weak either. Vivian had proven this in the battles, capable of holding her own against Tier 6 opponents despite being Tier 5. Granted, she owed most of her strength to Nelida's Flame, her sword. But still, she had mastered its powers and also fully bonded with the blade.

Her connection to her sword was abnormal. Vivian hadn't always understood this, but over the past few weeks, she had truly learned the difference between a normal soul bond—and whatever her bond with her sword can be called.

Regardless, wandering through the enormous cavern, thousands of charred and crushed reaver corpses littering the ground, but no dwarves, Vivian searched. She ignored the faint spirits of the spiders, and, upon reaching the location where Dorak had fallen, she paused.

It was here, in yesterday's charge, that they had pushed the reavers back one last time. And it was here that Dorak fell. The fifth in the squad to join the dead.

"What's up?" A cheerful voice asked. A phantom of Dorak appearing before Vivian.

"How can you be so happy?" Vivian asked, her voice barely a whisper. "You died..."

"That happens. Don't be a downer now. You know we like to celebrate life, not wallow in death." The phantom Dorak replied. Despite being the one who had died, he seemed to care less than Vivian.

"I know." His scolding brought a smile to Vivian's lips, a giggle escaping as she recalled the tales that the others had told of Dorak's early years.

To court his wife, he had gone on a mighty quest. One to find a rose. An abnormal request by dwarven standards, as they normally courted another with finely crafted jewels or weapons.

It had apparently taken Dorak months to find a rose, only for it to wither before he could bring it to his love.

Not one to be beaten by a rose, he had taken the wilted petals and mixed them into metal. Using it to create a metal rose that would live forever, and even adding small quartz to the piece to allow it to shine when given mana.

"I wish I could have met Vera and see the rose you gave her."

"Why the hell can't ya?"

Shaking her head, Vivian didn't answer. It would be too sad to visit the house of a widow. And unlike the others, those in the cities wouldn't know her. Depending on the dwarf, it would take some convincing to have them trust her. She didn't want to burden a widow with her visit.

"Fine. So what did you come here for?" Dorak asked, understanding Vivian's silence.

If she hadn't displayed such might in battle, he and the others would have ostracised her. It wasn't that they hated humans, their cultures simply differed too much.  Though the solution was simple. Go with the others. But Dorak wasn't going to force Vivian's hand.

"I wanted to make sure you would be alright." Vivian said after an eternity of silence.

"I'm dead. The hell you mean, alright?"

"Will you reach the forges of Dragos?"

"Pretty sure I already did."

"What do you mean?" Vivian asked.

Honestly, this was her first time attempting to communicate with the spirits wandering about. She normally suppressed this 'sight', and to talk with Dorak, she had to channel her mana through her entire body.  It was great practice, but also tiring.

"This is... like the metal rose I made. It only contains fragments of my soul... You know how we can grow stronger from killing?"

Vivian nodded. She knew it was more something for Chosen, but she and the other 'natives' could also gather what was called XP. In general, however, their majority of XP came from training and reaching higher Tiers, not killing.

"Well, I think this is the part that is left to be absorbed. But since you killed the bugger that got me before I even breathed me last, I... I think it got stuck."

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:)