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

by John L. Monk

  Whirling with a spell on my lips, I gasped in surprise at the sight of Jaddow standing near the dead bard’s charred corpse. Like the first time we’d met, Jaddow wore rugged leathers vaguely reminiscent of Daniel Boone and carried no weapons.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I said hotly, throwing it back at him. “I finished the trial hours ago. These idiots were torturing me!”

  “If you’d taken the Curse of Power,” Jaddow said, “you’d already be with your wife. But here you stand.” He gazed at me intently and a faint tickle coursed through my body. “Forty-six levels—barely a dent.”

  Bitterly, I said, “So I made the wrong choice.”

  Jaddow’s reply surprised me. “Not necessarily. But divination…” He shook his head. “A curse if there ever was one. Am I lying?”

  Lying? What the hell was he talking about?

  He pointed over his head. “The golden orb? Floating right here?”

  I’d almost forgotten those things. The adventurers had them over their heads, too.

  “What is that?” I said. “Some sort of swamp effect?”

  When Jaddow next spoke, his manner switched from haughty and condescending to something almost confessional.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “At the end of Ward 4,” Jaddow said, “lies the most powerful guardian in all of Mythian. We know it as the Domination. It guards the way out of here and into those skin frames Everlife promises winners. I’d traded fifty of my hundred lives to reach level five hundred. After that, I ground out the next five hundred levels to enter Ward 3.”

  “Why not level-up normally?” I said, genuinely curious.

  “Easier said than done,” he said. “The points-to-level after your first hundred is ridiculously high, even on Hard Mode. There’s a section in the manual with XP charts, have you looked at it?”

  Near the back of the manual was a thick section stuffed with all manner of charts, none of which I’d more than glanced at.

  Feeling like a fool, I said, “No.”

  Jaddow sighed. “Reaching level three hundred—generally considered the safest to attempt Ward 2—takes around five years for hard modes who really push it.” He shook his head. “After five hundred, the points multiplier doubles. It took twenty years to go from five hundred to a thousand—the recommended minimum to enter Ward 3. Then another seventy years to reach Ward 4, which I attempted at level twelve fifty and not the recommended thirteen hundred.”

  Jaddow’s expression turned bleak.

  “Ninety years is a long time gaming. Miserable work. A grind. Mind-numbing stuff that teases you with the certainty that life is meaningless. And for what? Better spells? Sturdier armor? Some new monster to kill? Ward 4 … Everything there is dangerous. Even the air is poisonous. Just getting to the Domination dropped me to ten lives. And when we fought, I lost. Nine lives left, but I’d learned from our fight, or so I thought. It killed me. Now eight lives. I tried again and died again. Seven. Then six. Then five. Each time we fought, the Domination barely won. I should have accepted that I couldn’t beat it and left, but I didn’t. Whether from pride or desperation or both, I kept attacking. Eventually, with one life left, I marched from the binding stone to face it and die, and that’s when I met Cipher.”

  I discovered I’d been holding my breath.

  “What did he want?” I said.

  “He said there was no way I could beat the Domination fairly—that I’d need an edge to win. One that didn’t involve pure power. In short, I needed knowledge.”

  “Divination,” I said. “The Curse of Knowledge. Right? To learn its weaknesses?”

  Jaddow said, “There’s more to the curse than your Reveal Weakness spell. Anyway, I’d already chosen the Curse of Power. The way back to Bite’s lair was closed to me. There are no other known providers of the diviner class in any of the wards or faraway places.”

  I saw where he was going. “But Cipher knew of another one. Didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Jaddow said. “I’ll say no more about that, except that the price I paid cut more deeply than I could have imagined. I never fought the Domination again, nor will I. The game has beaten me, and I accept that.”

  This was the longest we’d ever talked, and the closest he’d come to seeming human to me. Which is why I felt awkward and rude when I said, “Um … if you don’t mind … what is that ball over your head? It keeps showing up.”

  Jaddow smiled and glanced overhead. “Kenning Man. You really should experiment more, Ethan. It shines gold when I tell the truth. If I lie, it changes. My hair is blue!”

  I blinked in surprise. He was right! The ball changed from gold to black.

  For the second time, I read the description:

  Sort fact from false like the kenners of eld! Ah, but will the truth set you free? Stumble not, for the path of the wise is fraught with mysteries you can never un-solve!

  “So how is that a curse?” I said.

  “I suppose it depends on the person.” He looked around and frowned. “You sure made a mess here. Nice job with the monkey.”

  “You were here? Hiding somewhere?”

  He nodded. “The giant had a coin purse, by the way. Good gold, if you can find which body part has it. I suggest you loot quickly so we can leave. That wizard can fly the whole group here unseen. That’s how they followed you so easily.”

  He waved a hand and a black doorway rose from the ground.

  “You have two minutes,” he said, then entered it.

  After finding the purse—a ghoulish experience, lots of blood—I hurried through after him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I’d expected to arrive in Jaddow’s secret universe. But we were standing outside the gates of Heroes’ Landing.

  “What are we doing here?” I said.

  “I’m dropping you off,” Jaddow said. “Make sure you rebind in town. If you die, you don’t wanna pop up under the swamp.” In a surprise move, he grabbed my hand and shook it. “I’ve helped you as much as I can for now. The rest is up to you.”

  I pulled my hand away. “What do you mean you’ve helped me enough? You haven’t helped me at all! I’m supposed to be in Ward 2 and I’m … now you’re saying I won’t get there for five years?”

  What civility he’d shown evaporated. “It would’ve taken ten on Normal Mode, or a few days with the Curse of Power. At level five hundred, a single spell would kill the Ward 2 guardian instantly.”

  “I didn’t know it took three hundred levels!” I said. “I trusted you. You should have told me!”

  Jaddow shrugged. “It’s not a complete disaster. Your journey to Ward 2 will just take longer, that’s all. Best of luck, Ethan.”

  “Hey!” I shouted as he stepped backward into the portal. “Hey, come back!”

  I leaped for the doorway and fell to the ground when it winked out of existence.

  The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the blue candle in the window of The Slaughtered Noob blazed eerily in the fading light.

  A realization: this was the same color blue as that torch on the shore of the Trial of Pain. It gave me chills just looking at it.

  Though I’d only been away a month and a half, returning to The Slaughtered Noob felt like a homecoming of many years. After walking through the double front doors, I flinched at the sound of twenty people yelling “Surprise!” at the same time.

  “Forty-six levels!” Bernard boomed from behind the grinning crowd of noobs. “Well done, indeed! How did you do it? What’s your secret? Tell us everything, and leave nothing out.”

  I almost asked how he knew of my arrival far enough in advance to set this up, but stopped. Just like Under Town and the Trial of Pain, The Slaughtered Noob was an instance—a carved out slice of time and space. A trillion game years could pass here in the span of a heartbeat outside. Plenty of time to set up a surprise party.

  Despite how tired I was, I nonetheless spent the next hour telling the various low-level players—all under 10—about my adv
entures in The Festering Swamp. I left quite a bit out—everything about Jaddow, Hard Mode, and the special rewards for beating the Trial. Mainly I described it in terms of the poison, tripwires, and other traps.

  “Yeah, but how do you beat the Trial?” someone said.

  “It changes every few weeks,” Bernard said. “Only a foolish band of adventurers would copy another’s approach. Otherwise where’s the challenge, hmm? But the rewards don’t change. It’s always the same six prizes.”

  Someone named Ken said, “I thought he said there were four.”

  I’d only told them about diabolist, swordmaster, evoker, and shapeshifter.

  Bernard’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Oh, did I say six? How foolish of me. I definitely meant four. Must have been thinking of some other Trial…”

  A while later, after everyone was thoroughly drunk and not paying attention, I cornered him at the bar.

  “You know about Hard Mode,” I said.

  “Naturally.”

  “And the Curse of Power and Curse of Knowledge?”

  Bernard nodded and poured me an ale.

  “I think you made the wise choice,” he said, handing it to me. “None of this lot seems very driven—not the way you are. You’re an odd duck, Ethan. You seem better suited to a barstool or dusty library, or puttering around in a garden. Not slinging spells at bards, monks, archers, warriors, wizards, priests, and warrior/monk/thieves…”

  Unbelievable.

  “Is that one of your perks? Knowing stuff?”

  Bernard grinned. “More a reflection of my place in the order of things. I’m supposed to be mysterious, so I say mysterious things as they come to me. I know you fought a group of adventurers and slew them most impressively. Twice, no less. A word of caution: you can only slay them once more for points. After that, they’ll be immune for one level, and you’ll never get points again, regardless.”

  I already knew that.

  “Good to know,” I said anyway.

  “Oh, ho,” Bernard said, “look who’s here.”

  “Heya, stranger,” a woman said from about ten feet away.

  At first, I didn’t recognize her, hidden as she was in the recesses of a dark cloak.

  “Rita…?”

  “Don’t act so happy,” she said and grabbed me in a quick hug.

  “Listen,” I said, “about what happened—”

  “Not here. Come on.”

  Rita led me to a dimly-lit corner far from the revelers, then sat with her back to the wall like a gunfighter in the Old West.

  “So what do you think?” she said, smiling and batting her pretty eyes.

  “You’re pretty now,” I said. “Why?”

  Rita snorted. “I’m a girl, that’s why. Only ten points. Nothing too ridiculous. I see you got rid of that nasty troll ring.”

  That and my resistance ring were the only two original items the monkeys hadn’t stolen. The troll ring was in the bag along with the gear I’d stolen. While wearing it, my face looked puckered and scabby.

  “Found something better,” I said, fingering the telekinesis ring.

  “I heard you’re forty-six.”

  I nodded.

  When last I’d seen her, Rita was 25. I squinted her and saw she was 30 now.

  Knowing we had a lot to talk about, I was about to call for ales, but Bernard arrived without asking.

  In a stage whisper to Rita, he said, “Ask him about Hard Mode.” Then he left.

  Rita cocked her head, a puzzled look on her face. “What’s Hard Mode, Ethan?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I would have told her anyway. This was Rita, after all. My closest friend in all of Mythian. She knew about Melody, about Cipher, and like me, she’d been killed by Jaddow. Still, it would have been nice if our affable innkeeper was less blabby.

  I started to tell her about Hard Mode, but she stopped me.

  “What happened after the Swaze Pit?” she said.

  “Jaddow summoned a portal. After I walked through it, I found myself in a pine forest with a red sky…”

  Rita oohed and aahed during the description of Jaddow’s other-worldly castle, the metal man with the light-sucking armor, and the fantasy and science fiction library. When I got to the swamp, she giggled at the coconut monkeys and swamp octopuses. I tried glossing over Bite’s disgusting lair, but she seemed fascinated and kept asking for details: the faces in the walls, the throne with the molars and gums, the red carpet tongue…

  Though I fully explained the Curse of Power, I held off revealing my lie-detector perk. I worried she’d feel uncomfortable and weigh every word she uttered, spoiling the mood.

  “I don’t think I’d like Hard Mode,” she said finally. “Why level five times faster if we’re all immortal? I’ll get there eventually. And I like being able to change my mind and be some other class if I want.”

  A weight I didn’t know was there lifted at her words. Rita would stay immortal, and safe.

  “What happened to Frank?” I said.

  “That guy…”

  The way she said it, I couldn’t help but smile.

  “What’d he do?”

  “Turned into a jerk, that’s what. After we rezzed—after your friend smashed us on the ground—Frank decides to loot the place. He figured with all the goblins dead, why not empty the vaults? Never mind the deal we’d made, or that Kradich was a great guy.” She shook her head. “Naturally, Frank didn’t tell me his plans. He snuck away and did it while I was exploring. When I got back to our hut, there was a note saying he’d split the loot with me back in the city. The coward…”

  “So did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  I smiled. “Meet him here and split the ill-gotten booty.”

  Rita slumped down and sipped her ale.

  “I couldn’t stay in the Swaze Pit,” she said almost apologetically. “Not alone with a bunch of angry goblins. I left a note of my own to Kradich apologizing for everything. One day, when I’m big and strong, I’ll go back and protect them like we said. It’s not right for people to victimize them every month like that.”

  Of the three of us, Rita had been the most bothered by the goblins’ perpetually doomed situation. I didn’t like it much either. Being killed once a month—only to be reborn for more of the same—didn’t seem like much of an existence.

  Delicately, I said, “You know, I think you dodged my question.”

  Rita sighed. “I’m not gonna say no to free money, okay? Sure, we met. I told him I wanted your cut, too, but he said no, not after what you did. His words. I still have plenty left if you want some. Mostly gold and jewels. Bought some really great stuff. The rest is in the bank.”

  “Keep it. I’m actually doing fine.”

  I told her about the Crimson Sigil—how they’d called me a twink and tried to torture me.

  Rita giggled. “Wow, Ethan. Saved by monkeys. You really are a twink.”

  We talked and drank a while more, then agreed to meet in the morning. I needed to visit Magical Matters to sell my stolen wares and upgrade my gear.

  By the time I got to my room, I was dangerously tired. There was a new entry next to my vitality. It appeared after I’d slipped past twenty hours of wake time—the number 22 in parentheses next to my 25. That number had been steadily decreasing every hour. If it hit 0, I’d die.

  Now that I was lying in a soft bed, safe in the city and not sweltering in a swamp with biting insects, gongs, giants, and vengeful players, sleep came easily.

  Upon waking, I felt groggier than ever. And I had a headache. And I was sick, too.

  “Oh god, no. Please … not that.”

  To my utter dismay, I had a hangover. Of all the downsides of Hard Mode, this was the most disappointing. No longer could I drink without consequences. And I had to pee something fierce. Not a consideration in the swamp. But I was in a city without a sewage system, and …

  There was a second door in the room opposite the one leading to the hall and stair
s. On previous stays, there had never been two doors. Last night, I’d been too drunk to notice.

  When I got up and checked, sure enough, it was a fully functional bathroom with a porcelain toilet. Some effort had been made to render it sufficiently gothic-looking to match the fantasy motif.

  Morning ritual completed, I half-staggered down the stairs to the common room. There, I found Rita bright and shiny and obnoxiously happy.

  “What?” I said when she kept staring at me with a curious expression.

  “You look like shit,” she said. “Why?”

  I told her why—and not too kindly.

  “Mmm,” she said. “If you ask me, Hard Mode sort of blows.”

  I nodded—then winced. “What, uh … were we supposed to do again? Today, I mean?”

  “Shopping. But first, maybe a stiff one for you. Hair of the dog.”

  I thought about that, then reluctantly followed her to an establishment down the street that served more than just ale. Rita ordered champagne with juice in it, and I had a bourbon. It worked, sort of. My headache was gone, but my stomach felt as if it were filled with cardboard.

  A while later, she led me to one of the many towers dotting the city. A massive structure, it was about a hundred feet wide, and I couldn’t see the top when I stared straight up. In an odd twist on towers and buildings in general, it didn’t have a door or any windows.

  “What are we doing here?” I said. “Where’s the door?”

  “Up there. Challenge me to a duel.”

  “Huh? No.”

  The last time I did that, she’d hit me with one of her monk attacks.

  Rita sighed. “I’m not going to hurt you, ya big baby. We’re in the city, and I need permission for this next part. Just let me have my fun, okay?”

  “Fine,” I said. “I challenge you to a duel. Happy?”

  “I accept your challenge!”

  DUEL WITH “Rita” SET FOR 5 MINUTES. GOOD LUCK!