Chapter 22 – The Endless Bar

Dasha required information. The Sapphire Guild, their fees, their power, how did they maintain it if they weren’t allowed to go to the Heavenly Tower? The players should hold the bargaining power, not the guilds. Unless there was a missing piece to the puzzle. Unless there was a gate that would ensure their power. The possibilities were endless.

Then there was the Game System itself.

‘What exactly is mana? What is the Game System? How can it materialize objects with mere words?’

Dasha didn’t enjoy drinking, but for the sake of information and networking, he had to.

Hence why he was at the Endless Bar.

Truly, it was an impossible feat of architecture. Its length was endless and its height reached so high one needed to crane their head high up. The sky was permanently set to the night and the stars twinkled, yet the building commanded greater attention.

The windows glowed golden and promised a nightlife experience like no other. However, Dasha wasn’t interested in going inside. There was an outside section, an outside bar. For his purposes, that would work just fine.

The polished wooden counter was flanked by rows of tall barstools and he calmly sat next to a group of rowdy people. Not current players but old players. He could tell because none of them were wearing the Garbs of Death and that they were much looser than his peers. Even now, two weeks in, some players weren’t comfortable. Some players were whining and complaining and begging to leave. In this world, they were looked at uncomfortably.

Overhead, hanging lanterns swayed gently and casted a warm glow in the night’s shade. The low murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses drew Dasha in to listen.

Listen.

Listen, listen, listen.

[ Welcome to the Endless Bar! Here is but a taste of our menu! ]

[ Medieval Meadery

Mead of the Monarchs (9th Century) — 10 PP

An ancient honeyed brew enjoyed by kings and knights, offering a taste of medieval indulgence.

Spiced Wassail (12th Century) — 13 PP

A warm, spiced cider concoction served during festive banquets and Yuletide celebrations.

Herbal Elixir (14th Century) — 45 PP

A blend of botanicals and spirits crafted by alchemists, believed to hold mystical properties. ]

There were several additional menus for him to screen. The Age of Exploration, the Renaissance, there were drinks tailored to each era. The costs from those brewed by alchemists went higher on the list. He noted that tidbit into the back of his mind and chose to get a Herbal Elixir.

A wine cup appeared on the counter, filled with a yellow substance. Dasha tried to get a whiff of it but there was no odour. He went for a tiny sip. Minty and refreshing, that was his initial impression.

Beside him, two men yapped on and on.

“This new generation… they’reh, like, bett’r than us. Who do they think they are—the Golden Generation? Because screw them too!”

“Yeah! The 1800s were the real deal. WE w’re the real deal!”

“No, no, listen, mate! Theseh kids, they’ve got all the tech stuff, the fancy gadgets…they say they’ve already PLAYED the Heavenly Games!”

“Whaaat?”

“Yeah, mate! And they’reh like, like, like…they always say it’s because of poking moms and the quests of dragons! They act like they know it! Like…what da hell does poking my mom have to do with anything!?”

“I remembe’ having to go to my grandma to look up things. Now? Read it in the library!”

A disgusting burp erupted from the first man. There was a snort from the second.

“They grinding hard though! I respect it a little! I mean…imagine if they surpass the Golden Generation! Like…level fifty comes and they beat the hell out of them!”

Dasha perked up. Okay, maybe those bozos weren’t completely useless.

“Maaan, seriously! I can’t wait for level fifty and show everyone my new shit!”

“Hell yeah! Put em bozoos in the dirt!”

The first man stood up and announced, “To us, to them, and to whatever’s next! Cheers, ya bunch of legends! Cheers, ya oldies and newbies!”

Level fifty. Gate fifty. That was when the Heavenly Tower would be accessible to everyone, not just current players. The implications immediately hit him. The power of the guilds settled.

‘There are some players that have been here for centuries. I am curious as to how strong they are.’

The bearded man he remembered as Rehan flashed in his mind. Dasha had been correct—he was no ordinary man. The question remained now was just how unordinary he was.

Still, his questions on the Game System weren’t answered.

“Vhy, hallo zere!”

Boots thudded with each step and a hand slipped next to him, waving forward a glass of wine. The lithe fingers were adorned with a collection of mismatched rings.

“Drinking all alone? I hope you don’t mind if me und my friends accompany you!”

He glanced at the arrival of the woman. Light, chirpy, and grinning at him with bright enthusiasm, she was the type with loose lips.

Her followers, a squad of ten, eight of them women, took seats surrounding him. One’s hood was pulled low. Another, one of the two men, sported brawny arms covered in multi-coloured tattoos.

All of them were members of the Sapphire Order. That blue tint and the sapphire gem emblem—there was no mistaking it.

However, they couldn’t be here for him…right? No, this had to be a coincidence.

Dasha’s lips were flat, his voice neither welcoming or unwelcoming. “No, it’s okay. Your name?”

“Ah, you must be new. Most people, zey tend to know me. I am Saint Hildegard of Bingen. If you know your history, maaaaybe you know me.”

Some of her ten cohorts laughed. The drunk men to his left fell totally silent, wide eyed. Idiots. They couldn’t muster a sliver of dignity, even when a saintess was in their presence.

Saint Hildegard and the Sibyl of the Rhine. An early scholar of natural history. A woman whose contributions to society went beyond religion. Dasha figured she was something special given her attire. The stool she sat on was cascaded by a flowing robe of pure black that was seemingly imbued with an iridescent glow. Somehow, despite the darkness, she was light. Pure light. A goddess almost.

Her smile seemed to turn heads. Her hair was tucked into her hood yet her pleasant face could be seen. Dasha could feel many gazes on her.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I wrote an assignment on your books once. I spent many nights studying it and mulling over it.”

“Really?” Her annoyingly bright blue eyes sparkled and she leaned close.

Dasha confirmed with a soft nod, “Really.”

Saint Hildegard held her hands together and beamed up at the sky. “Praise be to ze Lord. To zink my vorks vould move across centuries…”

And to think the Sapphire Order had someone like her in their midst. He didn’t fail to notice the tattoo on her ring finger: the number two.

‘There are two possibilities: the numbers either go by seniority or strength.’

Either would make sense. Because, like with Rehan, the look in her eyes was not ordinary. She was no school dean. She was not some doctor or lawyer or scholar. Saint Hildegard was somebody special. He could feel it. If he was a lesser man, he would have done anything to be on her good side.

Instead, he nodded respectfully and decided to coax the necessary information out of her.

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