Chronicles of Ethan Complete Series: A LitRPG / GameLit Fantasy Adventure

by John L. Monk

  “Do wyverns breathe fire?” I said.

  “Not sure,” she said. “But they traditionally have stingers.” She sighed. “More damned poison…”

  “You have that pain skill, though, right?”

  Rita grunted. “Pain Tolerance Two. We’ll see.”

  Frank was shaking his head. “I don’t think it’s a Wyvern. They said it was a deathtrap.”

  He went on to tell me about deathtraps—what they were, their history in gaming, and their existence in Mythian. A deathtrap, he said, was an unbeatable foe or encounter promising guaranteed death.

  “That seems unfair,” I said.

  Frank laughed. “That’s the point. Game designers are natural sadists.”

  “Guys, I’m trying to enjoy the rain,” Rita said testily and started ahead without us.

  Frank and I just looked at each other, shrugged, and followed her.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Over the course of the day, the road west switched from pavers to gravel and then mud that caked to our boots, forcing us to walk along the weedy edges to keep from bogging down. Several times, we saw groups of men and women on horses coming or going from their various adventures. One time we had a terrible fright when a dragon flew low overhead, but it was just a high-level player. Rita had us all spooked with her talk of wyverns.

  None of the land-mounted riders greeted us in their passage. Likely they were itching to get out of the rain. Even more likely, they didn’t consider us worth the time. Snobbery, it seemed, was a popular sport in Mythian. Sure, that lady, Ellen, had seemed nice enough. But she was a businesswoman who rightly realized we’d only be low level and weak for so long.

  By evening, the rain had finally stopped. We’d left the hilly grasslands an hour before and entered a dense wood called “The Forest of Lost Souls” on our map. A spooky sort of name, but we felt we could handle anything we ran into. Our main concern was the road itself. It had become muddy and more treacherous, with exposed roots, frequent potholes, and wide pools of water we had to loop around.

  “We should probably stop before it gets too dark,” Frank said.

  Rita and I agreed.

  We found a clear area between two huge trees just off the road. The ground was wet, but not drenched like everywhere else.

  “At least we’re not being poisoned or burned,” I said. “It’s just water. We should be able to turn off our brains and sleep straight through till morning.”

  “Wish we had a tent,” Frank said wistfully. “I hate walking in damp clothes.”

  “We could always hang them up,” Rita said.

  Frank and I shared a glance, and Rita rolled her eyes in disgust.

  “Don’t be such prudes,” she said and started to strip while Frank and I looked hastily away.

  “I’m not even naked,” she said. “See?”

  I braved a quick look. Sure enough, she’d stopped at her surprisingly modern-looking bra and underwear.

  Frank’s back was still turned. “Um … should we set a watch for the night?”

  Rita clapped excitedly. “I want a campfire! We used to have campfires when I was a little girl.”

  “We should definitely set a watch,” I said, “and no, I’m not sitting around in the woods with a half-naked woman.”

  In a teasing voice, Rita said, “If we have a campfire, I’ll get dressed.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  No, I wasn’t a prude. But the game had given us more than movie theaters, 22nd-century underwear, and bank accounts. It had also given us lust, and mine had kicked in hungrily as soon as I’d looked at her. It didn’t matter that she appeared unnaturally plain in the face. The rest of her looked female and in-shape. Though technically I didn’t mind sitting in my underwear with a couple of mature adults, that option was embarrassingly closed to me now.

  “I said can you start a fire?” Rita said in a loud voice to get my attention.

  “Hmm?” I said. “Oh! Um … I should be able to. But I need wood.”

  Rita covered her mouth and giggled. Frank laughed too.

  Not trusting myself to reply, I flashed a bland smile meant to acknowledge the moment, yet not encourage it, then set off to collect fallen branches. The virtual world had plenty of fallen branches, apparently, because I quickly found enough for a hundred campfires if I wanted.

  “They’re sort of long,” I said, and let go of the two I’d been dragging. “I don’t suppose either of you have a saw?”

  Rita said, “Stand back, Sparky.”

  I did as instructed and watched in astonishment as she karate chopped the branches into logs. She tired as she went, but her smile never wavered. She was loving this.

  “Used up … almost all my … spirit points,” she said between pants.

  “Spirit points?” I said.

  “Yeah … they’re … like your mana.”

  “Priests use zeal,” Frank said. “Warriors use might for their special skills.”

  “I’m never gonna multi-class,” Rita said. “Too long to level up.”

  Frank said, “There’s a perk that lets you draw resources from one class to use in another. Super high level. Ward 4 stuff. Bernard told me.”

  Tired of being wet, I stacked the logs into the semblance of a campfire. Having spent most of my life in a city, I’d never actually started one before. Good thing I had magic.

  Flame Lance!

  A line of flame shot from the end of my staff into the pile of damp logs, which took a moment to catch. The heat coming off it felt great, and the cheery light was a pleasure to watch in the lengthening shadows.

  “Funny thing about Mythian,” Rita said in a troubled voice.

  “What?” I said.

  “After I got directions from Bernard, he mentioned how almost nobody leaves Ward 1 anymore. He was secretly delighted you were so excited about moving to the higher wards, and said he wished he’d given you more encouragement.”

  “The players aren’t playing?” I said.

  Rita shrugged. “He made it sound like nobody’s advancing in the game like they used to. Ward 2 doesn’t sound that bad. You get a thousand lives. And the city there is a sanctuary, just like here. Hardly anyone goes, though.”

  “You know, I heard Heroes’ Reach is smaller,” Frank said. “More of a town than a city.”

  “It grows with the population,” I said, happy to contribute something for once. “Just like in real life. There’s other cities, too. The manual mentions a pirate town on the east side of Ward 1. For seagoing adventures.”

  “We should totally do that!” Rita said.

  Frank left with a canteen to get water from a nearby spring. When he got back, he turned it into wine. This was his perk for exploring Under Town. A particularly rare one, too, and it helped solidify his decision to go with the priest class. Called it “a sign.”

  Provided we didn’t drink the canteen dry, he could fill it up again without re-visiting the spring. A true miracle worker, Frank filled that canteen up at least ten times before we settled off to sleep.

  Hours later, after forgetting to set a watch, we were awakened by a terrifying roar. I could barely make out Rita’s form on the other side of the campfire. Surrounding her were three humanoid shapes with spears.

  They were stabbing her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Two things quickly became clear. One, we’d made a horrible mistake in not setting a watch. Two, we probably shouldn’t have gotten drunk on perk wine in an unfamiliar forest in a world packed with vicious monsters.

  A brute on my left I hadn’t seen roared in from the shadows. Resisting the urge to blast it, I cast Group Shield over the three of us. It immediately soaked 23 points when the thing’s spear slammed into it, shattering the spear.

  I started with a weaker spell so I’d have my big ones handy if it died fast:

  “Ice Bullet!”

  The bullet caught it in the arm, stunning it. Quickly, I applied an unused skill point to Greater Zap, then reac
hed out and grabbed it. Before it died, one of its eyes popped out in a sizzling cloud of steam. Now I knew it had anywhere from 34-50 health points. Fairly low level, but there were a lot of the creatures.

  Off to my right, Frank faced off with two at once, holding them back with his priest’s staff. Ahead of me, the first three were still stabbing at Rita—ineffectually, now, as my shield did its work.

  Flame Lance required a staff or a weapon to trigger, and my staff was a few feet away. I focused on one of Rita’s attackers and concentrated:

  Lightning Bolt!

  The endorphin surge of the spell morphed into grim satisfaction as the game registered the creature’s death.

  At the ensuing thunderclap, the other two leaped backward. I didn’t wait—I snatched up my staff and immolated one of Frank’s attackers. Frank intoned something and a blue beam shot from his hand into Rita’s struggling form, after which she bounced to her feet.

  She launched herself at the closest attacker and landed a terrific blow that caved its face in with a sickening crunch. She followed up with a roundhouse into her remaining assailant, knocking it into the fire where it thrashed, burning and screaming. The light from the fire gave me a good look at it: hairy and bestial, with a face somewhere between a giant monkey and a pig.

  Rita yelled, “Frank, look out!”

  With a mighty roar, the biggest one yet entered the clearing. Heedless of the deaths of its friends, it charged Frank.

  “Come on, pig man!” Frank yelled wildly.

  Just as its spear was coming in for the kill, Frank stepped into his assailant’s reach—and then he stepped into the creature. Like a ghost.

  “Guys!” the creature shouted. “Don’t shoot! It’s me, Frank!”

  Rita said, “Huh? Frank?”

  According to my combat log, the hairy humanoids were bugbears, and they had a points value of 250 each—a bit less than the salamanders of Under Town, but more than the skeletons.

  Bugbear Frank said, “It’s one of my spells. I can temporarily possess humanoids and make them fight for sixty seconds. I can also read its thoughts to some extent. Take it from me: we need to get the hell out of here. There’s a huge band of them moving through the area. From what I can tell, these guys were just scouts. This one thinks your Lightning Bolt is gonna draw the others here.”

  “Which way do we go?” Rita said.

  She had a few cuts and scrapes, but nothing major. Whatever that blue spell was that Frank shot at her, it seemed to have fixed her up.

  “I think … that way.” He pointed off into the trees, south of the path we’d been taking.

  “What about the bugbear?” I said.

  “Don’t kill it yet or I’ll die too. Hold on. Count of three.”

  “One,” Rita said.

  “Two,” I said.

  “Three!” Frank shouted and jumped out of the creature to fall tumbling to the side.

  The bugbear seemed startled and looked like it might flee. Then its gaze fell on Frank and it roared in rage.

  Rita didn’t roar. She leaped through the air using her Cricket Kick—a fast move with a fair damage output. The kick caught the creature in the back, snapping it like those tree branches from earlier.

  Being bigger than the others, it didn’t die. It twisted on the ground in pain, chewing the earth and mewling in agony. When Rita recovered her balance, she raised her leg high and crushed its head into the ground.

  Never in life had I seen such devastating attacks. Not even in the death sports I’d subbed during a free promotion (and had never told Melody about). That never-repeated viewing had lived up to its name as the contenders fought to the death for a chance at early retirement in a world of their choosing.

  Unlike those poor fools, Rita’s moves weren’t as messy or frantic. Hers were more what you’d expect in an over-the-top action movie.

  “We really need to hurry,” Frank said, staring around in fear—then flinched at the sound of savage horns blaring in the distance.

  “Yeah,” I said. “All right. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The nighttime forest was incredibly dark under the trees in their full summer foliage. Mossy rocks and fern-shrouded ditches threatened to trip us as we crashed noisily ahead. I should have picked Light Rune, available at level 3. One of the few utility spells I’d ever get as a sorcerer, it’d let me apply a glowing rune to any object, including my staff.

  A branch whipped hard into my face and I swore.

  “Sorry!” Frank said.

  “Shush!” Rita yelled from farther ahead.

  To calm my jangling nerves, I questioned my fear. Why the heck were we so worried? If we wanted to, we could strip out of our gear, hide it somewhere, then let the bugbears come and kill us. After that, we could hike back and get our stuff. Better yet: we could kill each other and hike back.

  As clever as it sounded, neither option appealed to me. It seemed wrong somehow. Cowardly. The others must have felt the same because we kept going, chased like game by the horns, never far behind.

  “Guys!” I shouted at one point. “I need to … rest. Only have … ten points … vitality!”

  Frank was doing worse than me, sucking in loud gasps of air and stumbling along.

  An opening in the forest canopy let in enough moonlight that I could make out Rita’s exasperated face as she regarded both of us.

  “You two are pathetic,” she said. “Stay here and hide. I’ll lead them off. “

  “What if you get lost?” I said.

  She tapped her head. “It’s all up here, remember? We have a map.” And with that, she took off through the woods without a backward glance.

  “She’s almost heroic,” Frank said.

  I looked at him sharply. “So let’s not waste her time. Come on.”

  There weren’t many places to hide: behind trees, in a tree, or tucked in a ridge of large rocks poking through the forest floor. We chose the rocks. Even if the bugbears had torches or magical light, there was a chance they’d miss us in the shadows.

  “You think she’ll get caught?” Frank whispered.

  I shook my head. “She’s been dumping all her points into agility and vitality. She’s also smart. If she has to, she’ll simply outrun them.”

  I hope.

  Just how realistic was Mythian, anyway? Would it let Rita get captured and tortured? Would Rita let herself be tortured, rather than give up her progress and revert to level 0? In her shoes, I’d give up. Gear, gold, and levels could be re-acquired. One’s sanity? Not so much.

  As if in response to my fears, a bloodcurdling roar shook the forest about a hundred yards out. This was greeted with more roars to the east and west.

  “I think we’re surrounded,” Frank said.

  The forest around us shook under the passage of many feet but nothing wandered into our line of sight. More roaring, and the horns started again—much louder for being so close.

  Rita’s voice carried loud and pure: “What are you looking over there for, you stupid rodents? We went this way!”

  Well that did it. The roars intensified—one of them from behind us. I twisted to look but didn’t see anything. Then something bounded onto a flat rock in front of us. It charged away, only to be replaced by another bugbear. Then it, too, was gone.

  I caught Frank’s terrified gaze—and grinned.

  Frank didn’t grin back, he just shook his head.

  “This way … big idiots!” Rita shouted from even farther away.

  The clearing was now a superhighway for bugbears, growling and roaring and stomping their way through. A minute later, they were gone.

  Rita had stopped yelling, and I started to worry. If they caught her…

  “Should we go look?” Frank said.

  “Yeah,” I said, and crept from the rocks.

  In the distance came a terrified yowl from one of the bugbears. Then more cries, followed by the collective panic of what sounded like dozens of them heading our way.r />
  Frank said, “They’re coming back.”

  “I’m trying to listen,” I said.

  An enormous bugbear burst through the trees. It looked fearfully at me, then turned and looked behind it. Then it dashed by at arm’s length and vanished from sight.

  More bugbears appeared. Some of them looked at us, though not in rage. If anything, they seemed relieved. A minute later, they’d all passed through and we were alone again.

  “What the heck just happened?” Frank said.

  “You’re complaining?”

  “Well no, but … Wow.”

  A few minutes later, Rita stepped into the clearing looking no worse for wear than when she’d left.

  “Are you guys okay?” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Those things ran through here like they were terrified. I mean you’re tough, don’t get me wrong, but…”

  Rita shook her head. “No, I agree. But they may come back. Let’s go.”

  Wordlessly, we followed her.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  We found the road more easily than if we’d been in a real forest because of the map in our heads. It not only pointed out our location and where the road was, but it also marked where we’d camped. Farther away was a little flag noting the rocks we’d hid at reading, “Hiding Spot.”

  The three of us had been traveling quickly without talking for maybe half an hour now. Hard to tell under the trees, but the sky seemed to be lightening ever so slightly in the east. For once, I appreciated the dehumanizing game mechanics that kept me fully awake and rested at all times. Otherwise, this would have been a miserable trek.

  When we agreed to slow down, I said, “What the heck happened back there?”

  Rita said, “I was about to die, that’s what. As soon as I started yelling, they were after me. And they were fast—way quicker than me. About ten of them had me surrounded. I was ready to attack the biggest one—force it to kill me—when this … this glowing purple smoke whooshed in from out of nowhere. It lashed out like a snake, sort of coiling around two of them, and they dropped their spears.”