Neverstone: A LitRPG Adventure (The Mad Elf Book 1)

by Ned Caratacus

  “But what if she doesn't feel the same way? Liv's my best friend. I don't wanna lose our friendship. It's too precious to me. She even said, just a few days after I met her, she was in this quest for 'fighting and nothing else.' What if I make her uncomfortable? What if I alienate her? Or worse, what if she does feel the same way? Everyone I've ever loved either leaves me or ends up under a Greencoat's jackboot. Dad's the only exception, and even then, just give it a couple months! Look at all the danger he puts himself in—"

  [Titania — Palm of Queens]

  Era stopped in his tracks when Titania placed her small, warm palm on top of his scalp like a skin hat. A wave of calming magic hit him like a brick wall against a water balloon.

  [Era's tension is gone!]

  “Are you still alive?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” said Era. Subjectively.

  The old queen smiled. “Then you're still learning. The only time you have everything figured out is when you're dead. So, here's what you do: whatever comes of your love, let it happen, welcome its presence, watch it pass. That is all there is to know about romance; anything else is useless complication.”

  “All there is?” asked Era. “There's really nothing else to know about love?”

  She chuckled. “Sir Era, I've had over 900 successful marriages, so I think I know what I'm talking about.”

  “Fair enough.” Wait, like, consecutively, or at once? Questions for later.

  A shadow crept by from the side of the Doomwagon, just under the windows. Opening the window a crack, it fired a dart pistol...

  [????? — Sleep Tranq]

  [0 DMG to Titania]

  “Speaking of living in the moment, why can't I feel my—” Titania hit the carpeted floor of the Doomwagon.

  [Titania is unconscious!]

  “Your Majesty!” Era tried to wake her up. Oh Gods. Don't tell me she's having a heart attack or—

  [????? — Sleep Tranq]

  [0 DMG to Era]: Seriously?!

  [Era is unconscious!]

  Chapter 25

  The Fanservicey Beach Party Chapter, Now With 200% More Jiggle Physics

  Era woke up on a metal table. He tried to move his arms, but they were bound with crude and hasty chains. And, I've been captured.

  Okay, take it slow, Era. One step at a time. Breathe.

  He opened his eyes. There was the harsh glare of a light crystal on the ceiling—the Kobalese equivalent of fluorescent lighting. Behind it, a high ceiling with an old, green mosaic, crusted with black mold, depicted a medicinal Kobal saint offering its blessing to trolls and nymphs covered in boils. Rows of seats and desks cluttered the place, and the smell of dust and mold was overwhelming. If I were allergic to either of those things, I'd already be dead.

  Must be a Kobal building. Now, where to find my sword?

  Strapped to a table to his right, Titania groaned. “Either we’ve been kidnapped, or I've hit the flùpya too hard. Might you happen to know where we are, Sir Era?”

  “Looks like...some kinda ancient hospital.”

  Titania extended her neck a little and examined the area. “Well, I'll be stuffed, if it isn't the Northern Ur-Kobalis Shrine of Bloodstained Rebirth! I had my kidneys sequined with gold and rubies on this very table.”

  “Shame to see what's happened to the place,” said Era, praying that Titania wouldn't divulge any other fun facts about Kobalese medicine.

  “Aye. That tends to happen when—"

  Titania's words were cut off when a stun baton was jabbed onto the side of her throat. She stifled a scream.

  Era grimaced.

  Raphael.

  With the sound of flip-flops slapping against the stone floor, Raphael stood over Era, with a glare that could have made a dragon soil itself.

  “Hi,” said Era. “So, if you could do me a solid and tell me why I'm on this—”

  Era was silenced by a flurry of stun baton blows to the face. Raphael's voice cracked as he yelled, “Erasmus, you complete bastard, you've condemned us all!”

  By the time Era was convinced that the last blow had landed, he slowly re-opened his eyes. His face stung with the numb flicker of electricity. Jerkass.

  Hey, you know what? That's worth saying out loud.

  “Jerkass,” said Era.

  “Oh, I'm sorry, would you rather I be nice to you?” Raphael cleared his throat.

  Clearly, he's been rehearsing this.

  “See, Erasmus, the problem with being nice to you is as follows: you wasted my time as a trainer with consistent insubordination and laziness, you coerced me into harboring a dwarven serial killer and a genocidal dictator’s heir apparent, you murdered too many GU thugs to count when there were obvious peaceful options for neutralizing them, you tried to murder me, you destroyed valuable Celsioran military equipment...what else? Oh, that's right! You released Sarastro from imprisonment, potentially sentencing all five billion human beings on this planet to death! My point being: through your incompetence, you have fostered an environment where treating you with respect is not only undeserved, but morally wrong.”

  Silence.

  “Oh, my,” said Titania. “I figured he was jealous of you and Liv, but I wasn't sure as to the extent of his—”

  “I'll deal with you later, Dark Lord,” spat Raphael. “For now, shut your mouth.”

  She grinned. “Oh, I quiver with anticipation. I haven't killed a Koschei in ages—literally! Speaking of which, Princey, I dare say you're the spitting image of Mystic Ilya. However, have you kept your bloodline as similarly disgusting as it was 52 centuries ago? It can't be a coincidence…oh, I get it! Your mum's also your auntie, isn't she?”

  Raphael's face bunched up in rage as he drew his dart pistol and fired.

  [Raphael — Maximum Strength Tranq]

  [0 DMG to Titania]

  As she lost consciousness, she murmured, “I don't...hear you...denying...”

  [Titania was KO'd!]

  “All right, that's just about enough of this bullvog,” said Era. “What do you want, Princey?”

  “Call me that again and I will have you—never mind, you're doomed as it is. For starters, I'd like to know why you thought this would be a good idea. We're only a few minutes away from the Jade Crown, and Sarastro would only need to put it on her head for a second to—”

  “She regrets her crimes and wants to redeem herself. Noah can confirm that.”

  “What Noah can 'confirm' makes no difference. Has it ever occurred to you that Sarastro's ancient, powerful magic could find a workaround to lie to you, even in the presence of a truthseer?”

  “Even if that were the case, who would you trust? The lady actively making an effort to help and understand the culture she originally tried to destroy, or the jerkass that's strapped me to a table?”

  Raphael sighed. This debate was going nowhere. “No matter. As per article 483 of the Codex of Amalgamated Civility Keeping, the aiding and abetting of an apex-tier supernatural threat is grounds for summary soul neutering.”

  Era couldn't help but laugh. “Just say I'm under arrest, less syllables to worry about.”

  Raphael pulled a black, cylindrical instrument from his cape, covered with warning labels and House Koschei paraphernalia on every surface. Pushing a button on the side, a jagged two inch spike extended from one end—somewhere between a syringe and a dentist's drill.

  Era's chest became heavy.

  “You see,” said Raphael, “even after what you've done, I believe you can turn your life around. And thanks to the scientific wonder of soul neutering, you won't have the mental capacity to do anything else. If you're lucky, you'll hold down a menial labor job in some factory, make a friend out of pity, and when you're dead, someone might miss you for a week or—”

  “Get on with it, Princey.” Vog it. It's gonna happen anyway. Vog it. I'm done. Vog it. Get it over with. Goodbye.

  “And there you go again! It's all ‘third paths’ and empty witticisms until you feel slightly uncomfortable, th
en the 'get-on-with-its' come out. Your cowardice is like clockwork. Oh, by the way, thanks to you, the plan has been changed for dealing with Monostatos. My superiors have ordered me to immediately enact Celsioran Military Response Procedure 10.”

  “Which is?” Get on with it. get on with it, losing my cool in ten...nine..

  Raphael breathed a contented sigh through his nose as he watched for Era's reaction.

  Eight...seven...

  “We're going to let the Dark Lord win.”

  Sixfivefourthreetwoone, vog you.

  “WHAT? That doesn't even make sense!” Era struggled against his restraints, and Raphael couldn't have grinned wider if he tried.

  [Era — Blade Recall]

  [But it failed!]

  [Era — Blade Recall]

  [Era — Blade Recall]

  [Era — Blade Recall]

  [Dude, just stop. You don't have your scabbard.]

  “What choice do we have, Erasmus? With you, we have the Jade Crown returning to its master to start another Goblin War. With Monostatos, we have a few mass killings here and there, and that's hardly anything new. I didn't want to have to choose between the destruction of Luminar and a few million dead elves, but you forced my hand. And don't think for a moment that I agree with the GU's politics, but their violent methods will keep the Island running a little longer.”

  “What island?”

  Aggressively ignoring the question, Raphael placed a rusty iron dagger in Era's hand.

  Combat mode. Coward probably gags at the sight of blood.

  “If you remember anything after this procedure, I want you to remember this: your job was to save the world. But you didn't want to save it. You wanted to make it better. That is the difference between a hero and a lunatic. Any last words?”

  “Eat vog and die.”

  Raphael grimaced. “And here I was, expecting something other than immaturity.”

  [Era — Jimmy Rustler]

  “And there I was, eating something other than Monty's boot in a back alley.”

  [Raphael's jimmies were rustled!]

  [Not that it'll do ya much good.]

  The blade on the soul neutering device whirred with a high-pitched squeal.

  “Goodbye, Erasmus.”

  [Raphael — Soul Neuter]

  With a wide swing, Raphael plunged the blade into Era's forehead, through the surface of his skull.

  [9,123 dm —]

  < Oopsies! >

  < ForTheLight has encountered a serious error and has been closed. >

  < Press X to let me iiiii…>

  …

  [Bug Man — Salvation]

  Before he could scream, Era sat at a mahogany kitchen table, with a plate of tea and chicken strips before him. To the left of him, an eternal expanse of empty whiteness. To the right of him, an eternal expanse of empty whiteness. Behind him, presumably, the same thing.

  Before him, a middle-aged, wide-lipped elvish man in a tuxedo sipped from a teacup.

  I have no idea what's going on, but honestly, it's preferable to soul neutering. Who is this guy?

  The elf across from him glanced at him mid-sip. “Ah, there you are,” he said. His voice was soft, almost sing-songy. “Truthfully, I wasn't expecting you until later, but I can't say I'm displeased to see you earlier. Lovely. And I've been waiting quite a while, to say the least. So. Talk to me.”

  “Okay,” was all that Era could manage to say.

  “It is okay,” said the elf, staring off into the distance.

  Silence. The elf took another sip.

  Era's latent social awkwardness could almost be smelled. That, or he hadn't washed his sweater in some time.

  “So,” said Era. “Weirdest thing. I was just about to be soul neutered by Raphael—”

  The cup shattered in the elf's hand.

  “Callous bastard, Raphael. And all of House Koschei. Never forgive. My slaver, my god, my mistress. Astrid. Koschei. Eternal jailer. Years, decades, centuries, millennia. Obedience. Undying, undead obedience, drink their faces, eat their—”

  The elf slapped himself in the face, as if to break from the trance.

  “My apologies, that happens sometimes, unless one gets that checked every so often. I've found that feigning humanity is a difficult business. No one can say what the right way to do it is, can they? Ever!”

  “Yeah!” said Era, raising a fist in agreement with whatever it was he just said. Yeah, look, if you don't start making sense within about ten seconds, I'm going to ask Raphael to keep doing what he was doing.

  A second mouth grew on the elf's forehead.

  “If you don't start making sense within about ten seconds,” said the mouth, “I'm going to ask Raphael to keep doing what he was doing.”

  Oh, vog.

  “Oh, vog.”

  “Stop that!” said Era, aloud.

  The elf giggled, and the mouth disappeared. He reached into his pants pocket and drew another teacup.

  The hell?

  “I can see it all—we're connected. Will, mind, body, soul, heart, maybe even prostate if we're lucky. Isn't it a wondrous thing? Linking together? Loving forever? Consider it as it is. Love. Eternal love. Always and forever. Never to leave. Seldom to vomit. Eternal to die. Yes. Only you and I. Under the old oak tree.”

  “Yeah, look,” said Era, swearing off his internal monologue for the next few minutes. “I have no idea who you are. You haven't even introduced yourself. Also, if by love, you mean lovey-dovey-romance stuff, you're not exactly my type.”

  And then the elf was Liv.

  “Really, I have loved you for a long time,” said Liv, using the elf's original voice.

  WHO ARE YOU?

  “By the Gods, you want to know who I am? Only need to ask. Dispense your mouth words, not your mind words. Yes, it has been so long since someone has used their mouth words towards my ears so that I may hear them.”

  “Who are you?” said Era, about half a Lewis Caroll-esque riddle away from flipping the table and punching this sassy ass hallucination in its gorgeous Mystic face.

  [Name The Unfinished One]

  [W O R M W O O D]

  “Ah, of course! Name. Dearest Era, my name is...” he said, shifting back into his elf body. “Doesn't matter. Ever. Very unimportant. Only me, I am only me. Unknown. Remember, though. You have given me a name already, after I met you. Of course, after I loved you, and you loved me, and we were a happy family, with a great big bug that exists inside of you. Understand? Remember?”

  “And that is?”

  “So, on a related note, aren't you going to let me in anytime soon?”

  “Great, you still haven't—”

  The realization hit Era like a bullet to the head. He froze with fear.

  Taking a long swig from the teacup, the elf looked across from Era and wiped shining black sludge from his mouth. Wingless flies crawled out from the collar of his shirt. His eyes, once human, became dark and sunken—empty black pits.

  Bug Man.

  Era turned and ran.

  “Oh, but has it ever occurred to you,” called the Bug Man after him, “that I'm only trying to help? Understand me, please!”

  Era kept running into the white emptiness. He tripped.

  He closed his eyes. If some horrible, torturous fate at the hands of the Bug Man awaited him, perhaps he could ignore it long enough to come out alive on the other end and have it become another uncomfortable story to tell his friends. Physical pain is temporary. Physical pain is temporary. Physical pain is—

  “Leaving? Why do you leave?”

  Get away from me.

  “Erroneous phrasing, I shall change it. Why are you afraid of me?”

  Because you're literally a thing from my nightmares. Plus, I don't know who you are, what you are, or why you want me to let you in, or what “letting you in” even means.

  “I see. Letting yourself fear what you don't know, because you don't know. Lots of mortals do this. But what if, before you choose fear, y
ou take a moment to look toward my facial face bits and try and understand me? Even now, look at what is happening in the outside world.”

  I can't.

  “Correct. Outside, you're about to be given a chemical lobotomy and be made half-dead for the rest of your life by a man who thinks you're some kind of war criminal for trying to prevent war crimes. Meanwhile, here I sit in the endless void of non-existence, forced by my creators to gag on emptiness for eternity in a state of half-being for crimes I hadn't yet committed, forever made to envy the living and the dead alike, I breathe, I don't breathe, I choke, I laugh, I sob, I hate, I hate, I hate, hate, hate.”

  Please make sense, thanks.

  “Eh, making sense? Order? Nonsense, that is for those who exist. Existence is the thing I lack. Always to pine for. Never to be released from this anguish. Death would be preferable to this fate, but one must exist in order to die.”

  Again, please make sense, thanks.

  “Point being, we're in similar situations, and we're the only ones who can help each other out of the similar situations that we are being in.”

  Era opened his eyes. Though he felt he was still on the ground, he was sitting back at the table with the Bug Man. The chicken strips had become fat, twitching maggots. The tea had become the same black sludge that the Bug Man was drinking earlier.

  “Ugly insects?” said the Bug Man. “Now, then—do you know what the difference is between a hornet and a butterfly?”

  “Reputation, and only reputation,” said Era, almost on instinct. Lutero Gualtieri said that in one of his essays about beauty.