Chapter 14

Two seconds later, his entire body was engulfed in burning pain while it felt as if his heart had exploded outwards. Harry took two steps away from the tree, dropped down onto his knees and let loose a scream of pure agony as the pain intensified until it felt like his entire body was being ripped apart from the inside out. The seven members of the Guild he'd been assisting came rushing to his aide just a few minutes later only to stumble to a stop as they watched him burst into a shower of red crystal shards with the sound of breaking glass.

And still he felt pain.

Instead of vanishing like the other Avatars and Players that died though, Harry's body was reconstructed piece by piece while the pain continued to tear him apart inside and out. His clients continued to stare at him, their expressions now filled with a mixture of disbelief and horror as he reached out to them in supplication. The leader of the Guild stepped forward on shaky feet to offer him a hand but before he could touch Harry's hand, the nine year old's Avatar shattered yet again. Over and over again his body would explode in a crash of breaking glass only to be painstakingly rebuilt back out of the pieces before the cycle began again.

After the fourth time, his clients ran away in terror and Harry was left alone with the agony that had engulfed him.

In the real world, Harry's body convulsed inside of his hidden sanctuary as his magic forcefully pushed his soul from his body and integrated it into the game, using the NERDLES as a bridge, in order to prevent him from dying as his body began failing due to six weeks of neglect (his magic no longer able to keep him alive without food, water, or proper rest). While Harry's internal magic worked to protect his soul, the protective magic in the blood wards began locking his body into stasis inch by inch (starting at his feet) in order to prevent his body from decaying once his soul had been removed.

Locked behind a bubble of dark magic buried beneath the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the sliver of Voldemort's soul that had latched onto him the night his parents were murdered cursed and screamed as the combined magics that were trying to save the boy slowly killed the soul piece at the same time.

It took six long hours for magic to preserve Harry's nine year old body and integrate his soul into the virtual reality world he'd been trapped inside; six agonizing hours in which Harry physically, mentally, and spiritually suffered through an endless loop of pain. The accidental horcrux never stood a chance against the protection of the combined magics and the moment Harry's brain was preserved (which coincided with the completion of his integration into the system) the remains of that sliver of Voldemort's soul was forcibly shoved out of Harry's scar and into his cupboard where it was promptly shredded by the blood wards.

Inside of the game, Harry's Avatar had continued to shatter and reconstruct itself throughout the entire integration and preservation process that his body and soul had undergone. Each time his body was reassembled, his digital body became just a little more lifelike and grew just a little more accurate when it came to his physical appearance until there was no difference between his Avatar and his current physical self. When the torture finally ended, Harry lay curled up in a fetal position with his face buried into the frozen snow that covered the ground as he sobbed hoarsely (his throat raw from screaming) in response to the sudden lessoning of pain.

It took another hour before he found the strength to push himself up off the floor and the moment his body was upright he was forced to roll forward as he vomited up blood. He stared at the red liquid that had poured from his mouth in confusion as the game had never before given visualization of actual blood; it was always a scattering of glowing red shards that shattered like glass before vanishing. Unable to help himself, Harry reached out and ran his fingers through the red mess and rubbed the substance between his fingers with detached fascination as his nose was filled with the scent of copper and he felt the sticky warmth coating his fingers.

It was at that point that Harry realized that he was no longer wearing the twenty-something year old Avatar he'd created for the game; his body had been forcefully reverted to his actual physical appearance. Before he could figure out how that had happened, since he vaguely recalled that he'd destroyed the mirror thing early on in the game, the eager howls of a pack of wolves filled the forest surrounding him and he knew that the creatures were hunting him (his earlier screams would have drawn their attention). Wearily climbing up onto his feet despite the deep seated ache he still felt all the way down in his bones, Harry began searching for a place to hole up for the evening.

He never noticed that the blood he'd vomited up shattered the moment he stepped away from it.

As he moved deeper into the forest, Harry hoped that his clients had made it back to the village safely and that they would send help because he wasn't certain if he was up to finding his way back on his own right now. A glance down at his runty little nine year old body had him grimacing and thinking that maybe it was better if no one found him because he was no longer the strong adult he'd portrayed himself as for the last six weeks. Either no one would believe him when he told them who he was, they would curse him for lying to them all of this time, or they'd think he'd found a cheat code and refused to share it.

The only one that had ever suspected that he wasn't old as he appeared was Agil and Harry had always brushed off the man's subtle inquiries by saying he'd always been told he was mature for his age (which was true enough). But he doubted that even Agil suspected that he'd been less than half of the age he'd made himself out to be. Tears began filling Harry's eyes as he thought about Agil turning cold and striking him from his Friend List; just the mere thought of losing his first and only friend cut him to the quick.

Near midnight, the troubled and tormented nine year old stumbled upon the partially hollowed out stump of an old fir tree and he robotically started to set up a perimeter of traps to protect himself from the wolves he knew were hunting him. As he set up the first trap, he was confused when there was a fifteen second delay before the trap actually formed. Harry grew increasingly frightened when the next three traps he set up were affected by the same delay despite the fact that he had attempted to use a different trap each time.

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