Neverstone: A LitRPG Adventure (The Mad Elf Book 1)
Page 36
• Mischa, who showed up later once Steve answered his “Give it to me straight, Steve: is there booze in the pyramid?” with a nod, was already on his fifth round of Khadrash fire-water.
• Liv...left, and it took a few hours of chaotic revelry before the others realized she was missing. She was a few floors below the feasting hall in an auditorium.
Liv sat on one of the stone benches, arms wrapped around her knees, as she stared at an empty theater below. A wall of arches behind the stage led to a cold, red glow from behind—the Apocalypse Tree, glowing crimson in total silence in the sanctuary nearby. On the way there, she spotted an old Impish wizard meditating under the tree, and one of the tree's thirteen fruits, only a month or so old, rotting on the floor.
This is probably where they heard religious sermons about the tree, she thought. Probably a restricted area now.
Honestly, I'm not sure why I let myself go along so far. There was only gonna be one result.
I should just tell the truth.
How, though? “Hey guys, I can't fight lord Monty, face him on your own. I swear this isn't me chickening out or anything.” Yeah, right, I can totally lie to a truthseer—famous last words. But it's not even Lord Monty that bothers me. I'm so tense from the anticipation already, if I do join the fight, there's no way I'm not gonna Riastrad and murder my friends. If I don't join, they'll hate me for being a coward...
Third path! I'll fake my death. A hastily-scrawled note: “Sorry guys, one of Monty's goons caught me off guard with an explosion curse spell. I'm gonna explode in a few seconds, avenge me, I love you guys. See you on the other side. —Liv,” then I can blow something up nearby for some ashes for good measure. Escape, change my name, get a new mask, start a new life.
Pros:
Give them something to get revenge on Lord Monty for; Monty dies the cruel and unusual death he deserves.
Minion can't truthsee something unless it's spoken in front of him.
I never have to go into Riastrad and kill an innocent person again—at least, not here.
Cons:
Break Slasher and Minion's hearts, Feely's too, maybe even Branny and Mischa if I'm lucky. And Aunt Phoebe, too, and Mr. Sam. Lose everyone I care about, and be scared and alone again.
Even if I could talk to any of them again, they'd never forgive me.
As much as I hate it, this plan is starting to make sense: three pros, one con. Okay, I'll need to find some paper, maybe I can grab something from my bag and use it as scrap. Gotta make it look like a hasty job out of—
...Earthquake?!
It took Liv a good thirty seconds to deduce that the ground wasn't shaking around her, she was just trembling unconsciously.
She clutched the sides of her head. What the vog am I saying?
Vog you, Liv. How dare you think this was ever in your control. The Battle of Route 49 was less of a trainwreck than you. You deserve to turn into that thing again, you selfish, psychotic, stupid, bloodthirsty—
“Hey, uh, just FYI, Noah just drank a highball of this stuff called flùpya, not knowing it was, like, 200% alcohol by volume.”
She glanced to the side, and Era waved, smiling. “I mean, he's fine. It didn't make the Seraph appear or nothin', he's just...wasted out of his mind and telling everyone they're beautiful. Kinda cute. But also, throwing up lots. Dad's got him under control though, for the most part. He'll be fine in a few hours.”
No response.
Era sighed through his nose. And, she hates me.
Don't be silly, Era—she'd let me know if she did, probably with a few flame skulls. Liv's good at a lot of things, but passive aggression isn't one of them.
This is what I look like in remembering-something-I-don't-wanna mode, ain't it? Maybe give her some space.
“Anyway,” he continued. “Just glad you're safe, we were wondering where you were, so...I'll be on my wa—”
A mumble came from the mouth nestled behind her arms and knees: “Stay.”
Without missing a beat, Era sat down next to her. It's only fair. She helps me out like this.
“All right,” he said, “what's goin' on?”
“I don't wanna talk about it.”
He nodded, though he was now unsure of why he was here. Liv reached a hand out in front of her, and it arced with blue thunder. He caught on. “But you're gonna show me?”
She nodded.
[Liv — Smoke Puppet]
With a bolt from her fingertips, the theater below exploded with a flare of blue and red light, leaving a circle of dust and purple smoke below.
The smoke formed into shapes that vaguely resembled Noah, Era, and herself. They carried on a normal conversation in squeaky, babbling chipmunk voices.
A Smoke Monty stomped in, and with the smoke squeaking equivalent of “wolf mourns not the rabbit,” he kicked Smoke Noah between the legs and laughed. Smoke Noah cried out in pain. Smoke Era drew his sword and began strategizing their next move.
Smoke Liv wasn't interested.
[Smoke Liv — Riastrad]
An explosion. The tiny, purple Smoke Liv became a 20-foot-tall black dragon. Sparks of electricity shot throughout the smoke—dry lightning. It breathed orange smoke from its flaming mouth and roared.
The dragon laughed as it crushed Smoke Monty under the weight of its tail, before biting Smoke Era's head off and tearing out Smoke Noah's smoke organs one by one, flinging them all over the audience stands.
Era glanced at Liv. The hand that controlled the little play was tense and clenched as it moved the puppets' energies below. Her eye fires were black, burning with darkness and emptiness. If this was a puppet show at first, it was now Liv projectile-vomiting the toxins out of her brain.
The dragon turned back to Smoke Liv, who then proceeded to scream and sob in terror at what she'd done, draw a smoke knife, and plunge it into her smoke—
“I get the picture,” said Era, sufficiently horrified.
Silencing all the distorted screams, the smoke dissipated into a thin haze along the ceiling. The wizard at the tree yelled, “
“To be honest,” said Era finally, “I know you're scared and all, but...that was a pretty cool magic trick.”
She laughed through her despair. “Thanks. Slasher. Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“When you were on the fencing team, did you ever worry about killing your teammates by accident?”
He drew the Schiavona, looking it over, if only to jog his memory. “Only for a week or so, at first. We never used training swords, even during training, because we had to accustom ourselves to one sword—like this bad boy—in order to master our psychic control over them.
“For the first few days out of the Sealed Dorm, after getting our mensur scars, 'am I gonna mess up and kill Dario,' was the one thing on my mind. I lost sleep over it. I loved that guy, and sometimes I felt like he was my only real friend at that time in my life. If I hurt him, I could never forgive myself.”
Liv uncurled herself, sitting like the decent human being she was for the first time in hours. “And then, you weren't afraid anymore, right?”
He nodded. “Only sometimes, but not nearly as much as I was.”
“Weeks of practice?”
“Actually, the change took place in only a few minutes.”
She grabbed both sides of his face, yanking his eyesight to her own. Her eyes burned red. “I must know your secret!” Realizing that this might be seen by any sane person as a threat, she let go. “If you don't mind.”
Era chuckled, standing up. “Alright, alright,” he said. “Here's what I did.” Picturing his old friend standing in midair, he thrust his sword out. “I stabbed Dario.”
Liv looked at Era like he just asked her for adult diapers. “You...stabbed your best friend?”
“Yeah. Right through the heart. Like, 1,000 damage, at least. We were sparring, and then, I thrust a little too
hard by mistake. Like that, it was a fight to the death. Then he dropped his longsword down on the space between my left shoulder and my neck. I had this big white mark across my chest for a few seconds, like one of those diagonal-cut sandwiches. We squealed like babies. War molecules all over the place.” He laughed. “Our hit points were both in the single digits. Then, Coach Jordy hit us with a healing spell, and we started over, again and again. Fight, rinse, repeat.
“But after a while, we were getting into it. We realized we trusted each other to take what we could dish out—and that's what separates a game from a war. Gods, I haven't had that much fun in years. From then on, we did it every week or so to blow off steam from all our schoolwork and teen angst.”
“And you were still on speaking terms with each other?”
He smiled. “Liv, I'm not sure how the code duello works in Cape Dartley, or if you guys even have any code duellos. But in Rosencrace, you don't have to want someone dead to cross swords with them.”
She stood up, picking up her staff. It shook in her grasp, and her knuckles whitened around it. She looked at Era with something intense—neither happy nor angry, but whatever it was, there was lots of it.
[Liv — Arcane Overdrive]
“Uh, did I offend you about the Cape Dartley thing?” he blushed. “My bad.”
She looked to the side, thinking for a moment, then grinned. “For argument's sake, let's say you did.”
The cut of her gibe finally came across in Era's brain. He cackled in such a manner that he wondered if he was the Dark Lord all along.
“I thought you'd never ask,” said Era, readying the sword. “En garde!”
[Boss Battle!]
[Liv ~ has had weirder first dates~]
The sword flew out of Era's hand, floating above him, and he reached into his sweater pockets. A few of the pocketknives from Skinny Pete’s farm were in there. Era had spent the past few weeks trying to think into them, and now, they were perfectly imbued with the energy to throw at the nearest—
[Liv — Thunder Stream]
Hold that thought. The schiavona floated in front of him to catch the energy, spinning and scattering sparks across the floor.
The staff half hung from her grasp.
She's holding back.
“Don't tell me you're holding back on me, now,” said Era. “That's against the—”
The energy skull materializing behind him had other ideas.
[Liv — Jumpscare]
It exploded. Era flinched, causing him to lower his sword. The stream rushed for his face. It occurred to Era how noses could work as a lightning rod under the right conditions.
[3,492 DMG to Era]
He stumbled across the stone seats and landed facedown on the stage...
[Fall damage!]
[308 DMG to Era]
...with less than half of his HP left, but his loyalty to the Mt. Colibri Hummingbirds thoroughly resurrected.
How'd that playbook go? Execute Hummingbirds Contingency 43-A-Sigma. His limbs fell limp and stiff on the ground.
A familiar voice came from the seats: “Are you okay, Slasher?”
Era grinned, and with a nonchalant, “Are you?” flicked his wrist.
[Era — Backbiter]
[2,490 DMG to Liv]
The Schiavona flew through her, then back into his hand, leaving a trail of war molecules behind it. Liv's stolen hit points dribbled into Era's hand from the hilt.
[Absorbed 1,200 HP!]
[Liv — Flame Skull Punch]
The absorbed HP was just enough energy for Era to stand up and take a good look at the skull a few inches from his face.
[Missed!]
He leapt to the side, rolling along the marble floor of the stage, kneeling a few feet away. She probably threw that from the—
But she didn't throw or shoot anything. Liv was standing there on the stage, and a single giant skull of fire was sitting around her right hand, with her staff in the left.
“Uncle Redmond would like a word with you,” said Liv.
Era's jaw fell open. “Since when did you know that?!”
The right hand skull aimed toward Era, opening and closing, as Liv murmured an, “Aw vog, Slasher's gonna get it!” from the corner of her mouth.
Era would have laughed, if the next thing Uncle Redmond the Right-Hand Man did wasn't to spit several miniature tornainbows at him from his flaming jaws.
[Liv — Tornainbow Cannon]
Era batted the vortexes away, only to have them circle around and rush back toward him. How many of these things are there? 27, Era. She shot 27 electric tornadoes at you, and you're about to die.
Damn right, I am!
As narrator, I can't help but question your life decisions.
[Era — Gyro Storm]
With his off-hand, he snatched a fistful of the pocketknives from his sweater. Turning green, they opened, spun, and slashed each of Liv's missiles in half.
Liv charged through the storm so Uncle Redmond could get a good bite out of him.
[Liv — Flame Skull Punch]
[Era — Trap Strike]
The Schiavona came to fist-level with Liv's hand, and Era winced as his friend's arm was subjected to the cruel fate that Rimsky's arm was in Chapter 1.
Already regretting this. Liv, if you could do me a solid and not actually die, here...
But she kept moving forward, grinding her teeth and shoving her flashing white arm all the way down the sword...
Until Uncle Redmond's teeth were around Era's wrist.
Liv smirked through the pain.
Chomp.
[Liv — Trap Strike2]
?!?!!
[2,950 DMG to Liv]
[4,203 DMG to Era]
They both fell back on the stage, out of breath, out of their minds, a few blows away from death, and laughing their asses off. The Bug Man said something in the back of Era's mind to the effect of letting him in, but Era couldn't hear him over his own giggling.
“Hey, Slasher?” asked Liv.
“What?” said Era.
“After we tear Monty's head off, can we do this again?”
“Is King Gregor's suit yellow?” He sighed, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Vog it, we can do this whenever you like...I mean, if you wanna stick around after this?”
She cackled. “Bold of you to assume you can ever get rid of me, Slasher.”
“Oh noooo,” he said. “Anything but thaaaat.”
Seriously, though...this is the first time I've felt this kind of inner peace in five years—vog it, since my sister left. Add a gentle rainfall, and I can die without regrets. This is what I've always wanted, isn't it? Chilling post-battle, still hurting from all the blows, but in a warm, refreshing way, with the girl I—
…
Oh, no.
Anything but that.
With the engine off, the Doomwagon was dark and quiet for the first time in weeks. Era sat on the central couch, his nose pressed into the window, staring into the rust red sand and orange prairie grass of the Great Central Plateau.
A wasteland dragon, far off in the distance, slept in the decaying hull of a Kobal sky boat. The holes in the side and bottom, where monsters would have served as the ship's wings and engine, had become habitats for colorful marsupials and winged lizards—new species, unknown to Kobalheim before Titania's kingdom was destroyed.
Era jumped when he heard the door to the bus open. Oh Gods. It's Liv. I creeped her out. She doesn't wanna be friends anymore. Stay calm. Stay calm. STAY CALM, YOU ELVISH PIECE OF—
“You know,” said Titania, “back in my grandfather's reign, leaving a feast was punishable by fine.”
Thank Gods, it's just my omnicidal quest grandma. “In my defense, there's enough noise in my head for six parties.”
Titania chuckled. “You really were born in the wrong time, Sir Era. You'd have fit right in with the Kobals. Probably as a Garuda from the Northeastern mountains.”
“Did they like birds?”
It was Era's turn to chuckle at that. “Something tells me that's not why you came here, Your Majesty.”
“Aye.” The queen sat on the couch with him, staring out at the same prairie. “I sensed a profound misery in your heart as you came here, and, well, from a strictly tactical standpoint, I need you to be at optimal fighting efficiency to destroy Lord Monty, end the Jade Crown's curse, and restore peace to both our worlds. But even beside that, you're my friend, and I want to help.”
Era looked back into the distance. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Titania sighed. “Seems to be a touchy subject. Did something here remind you of the Fall of Rosencrace? Trigger any bad memories about your sister? Perhaps it's food poisoning; maybe the Imps have lost their touch with fine cuisine after—”
“Your Majesty?”
“Yes, Sir Era?”
“I'm in love.”
With the engine off, the Doomwagon was dark and quiet for the first time in about five minutes.
That is, until Titania let out a mighty, triumphant laugh, slapping Era on the back. “And here I was thinking there was a problem. I had my suspicions of you two! Once this quest is over, you and the Mystic have my blessing, and the blessings of all—”
Era grabbed Titania by her shirt. “No! It is a problem. Outside of Monty winning, or me losing another leg, or Prince Raphael showing up and sending us to prison, or a mass extinction or something, it is literally the worst possible problem. I cannot be in love with Liv. Must not. It's going to ruin my life and hers! Love would stick a steering wheel in my brain and drive it off a voggin' cliff!”
“Sir Era, I think you've had a little too much flùpya—”
“Okay, look, Tita—Your Majesty, sorry—" Era loosened his grip and tried to take deep breaths. It came out more as hyperventilation. “I get what you're saying. Love is good, how can it be a bad thing, right? It can't make sense that I'm this terrified about it, right? I must be out of my voggin' mind, right?! I don't disagree.