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

by John L. Monk

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Fast as he was, Trapzich was faster. And nastier looking—all tentacles and suckers, and it tentacled and suckered Greenie and his horse so completely they were both immobilized. I’d learned from my experiences with Greenie and that bard in the swamp. Like them, this demon also blocked mana usage.

  I had a huge mana pool now. Nearly 40,000, thanks to my level and the acorn’s 100% intelligence bonus. And thank goodness. At 3000 mana a minute, Trapzich would have quickly wiped me out.

  “Who put the hit out on me?” I said.

  “The Crimson Sigil,” he said. “I already told you that.”

  “Who in the Crimson Sigil? Tell me or I’ll use your pocket watch on you.”

  “No need for that. Her name’s Ilsha. The big cheese in the Sigil. Be honest: how many times did you level?”

  “Zillions,” I said. “Never mind that. This woman, Ilsha—tell me all about her.”

  With a smirk, Greenie said, “Not really a woman. Word is she was a he in real life, then switched.”

  “Don’t care. What level is she? What classes?”

  “Last I checked, wizard and rogue. Pretty high. Runs the Sigil with an iron fist. Everything they get, she gets half. Has a bunch of tough bodyguards, too. Come on, how’d you level so fast? What are you now, three fifty?”

  “Shush,” I said in my best Jaddow. I needed time to think.

  In response, Trapzich wrapped a suckered tentacle over Greenie’s mouth.

  Neat.

  I had a lot of mana, but it wouldn’t last forever. Greenie seemed the type to stick with a job to the end, no matter what. What I needed to do was convince him to be a different type.

  To Trapzich, I said, “Let him talk.”

  The demon retracted its tentacular gag, and Greenie spit.

  “That’s just gross,” he said.

  “How much to go after Ilsha and not me?”

  “Getting right to it, are we?” Greenie laughed. “Those things sure use a lot of mana…”

  “They sure do. Now, how much?”

  “The price to kill you,” he said, “and a little more for my pride.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Seriously? You’d actually do it?”

  Greenie nodded. “Sure. She paid me a hundred thousand to do it. But she didn’t pay my million-gold loyalty fee. Anyone pays me a million gold can buy my loyalty.”

  “Uh … what?”

  “Pay me a million gold if you want me to grief her. She ain’t Hard Mode though. Just so you know.”

  Grief her? Oh. Kill her over and over again. Is that what I wanted? No. I wanted to be left alone.

  “What if I just kill you,” I said, “and whoever else she sends?”

  “You could do that. But you’re a busy sort of person. You don’t want to think about this kind of stuff. You’re on your way to Ward 2. High adventure—the game. Now that I know what a badass you are, I gotta up my game. That’s fun for me. And lemme tell ya: when I’m serious about it, I’m really good. Mythian’s gonna be around for a long time. Ilsha’ll understand if I hold off a few years before coming after you again. That or she’ll send me and a bunch of people to run you through a death machine.”

  “What the hell’s that?” I said.

  “Nasty stuff,” he said. “Way it works is we gather at least a hundred people—one for however many lives you’ve got. Then we take you to your last binding stone and kill you repeatedly, one after another, so the penalty doesn’t kick in. Avoids the anti-griefing protection. Won’t take long. Number of lives times three minutes and you’re dead.”

  Despite my mana draining away, I stared helplessly at the golden orb over his head.

  “Why hasn’t she done that already?”

  Greenie chuckled. “Because it’d cost a fortune! Sorcerer cooldowns are overpowered, and we’d need the right mix of players to protect against them. Lots of up-front work so you don’t get away. Also—and more importantly—death machines are terrible on karma. It’s a straight-up exploit. Anyone who does it’ll spend the next five years hiding in Heroes’ Landing until they’re right with the game again.” He chuckled darkly. “Only an idiot goes adventuring with bad karma.”

  This was ridiculous. I’d robbed those idiots in the swamp, sure, but that was it. Wasn’t like I’d killed their pets.

  For the second time, I cast Discern on him. Like last time, he still had 71 lives.

  “How much mana is this thing sucking?” Greenie said.

  “Plenty,” I said. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ll let you live. One life’s gotta be worth a million gold.”

  “Not even close,” he said. “Haven’t died in years, and won’t again for years to come. But the lesson does teach me to be more careful next time. I should have discerned you first, but I chose to sneak up all sneakily because I’m hot shit, right? Now I know I’m not. And that little lesson, my twink friend, is practically priceless.”

  “Uh … Well, priceless is more than a million.”

  “Technically.”

  “So, you won’t keep coming after me?”

  “Right. But I also won’t go after Ilsha without the double-cross money or it’ll look bad. See?”

  I nodded slowly, following his logic. “Sure. I see that now. Okay—deal. Trapzich, begone!”

  The demon slithered from around Greenie and his horse back into the ground, where it vanished. The horse was spooked but didn’t bolt. Greenie sat astride it looking wet and miserable under a thin layer of glistening slime.

  “This’ll take ages to clean,” he said bitterly. “So, you’re really going after Ilsha? She’s tough. Probably tougher than you. Certainly has more resources.”

  “I’m not going after anyone.”

  He smiled knowingly. “Shoulda’ guessed. Working your way out, eh? Making for Ward 4? Skin frame body? You’ll die trying, like all the others.”

  “I think we’re done here,” I said and nudged my horse around him.

  I felt a sudden tickle from his Discern.

  “Dammit, Greenie!” I said, whirling to face him.

  “Keep your shirt on,” he said. “Wow, would you look at that … You could make a fortune off what you know. A second power-up like that could take someone straight to Ward 3. How’d you do it?”

  “None of your business,” I said.

  “And what the heck’s that title? Hard To Get? Didn’t have that last time.”

  I considered telling him but held off. With Myrialla dead and gone, the knowledge was of no use to anyone. Being a diviner, he’d know I wasn’t lying.

  Still, I hesitated. Something about Greenie Red was off. Frightening, even. I’d gotten the drop on him, but instead of begging for mercy, he’d brought up death machines. His way of saying, I know far more about this game than you. I have the power here.

  By that logic, so long as there was something I knew that he didn’t—a second power-up, as he called it—I was safe from whatever the Crimson Sigil sent against me.

  “My secrets are my own,” I said. “Tell Ilsha I said hi.”

  I spurred Bingo into a trot, leaving him behind.

  To my retreating back, Greenie yelled, “If you tell me now, it’ll go easier!”

  At that, I had to laugh. Nothing ever went easier for me.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The smell of saltwater carried to me long before I saw it. Here was the “Mythian Sea.”

  With an almost childlike sense of excitement, I found myself hurrying toward it, only to stop at a cliff looming a hundred feet above a rocky shoreline. The area below was crawling with humanoid crab creatures. They ignored me, going about their business, so I ignored them back. My focus was on the bridge: a flat span of diminishing darkness. No guard rails, arches, or suspension cables. Absolutely massive for this pre-industrial world, as if built for the tread of giants. The way it vanished over the horizon, I wondered if Mythian had curvature, or if the game was compensating for my expectations by layering-in realistic detail
s, like the salty air and steady wind.

  A sudden whooshing sound overhead caused me to look up. A man was flying through the air parallel to the bridge and moving fast. A wizard, I figured, because of the robes, and because wizards had a flying spell. Granted, I didn’t know much about the other classes. Especially the rare classes.

  When the wizard was about the size of my thumb, a gargantuan snake thing launched from the water and chomped him down in a single bite. It then crashed back into the sea, sending up a terrific wave that swept over the bridge.

  Down on the shore, the crab people raised their claws and chittered their approval.

  “Glad I don’t have a flying spell,” I said.

  A few minutes later, after navigating Bingo down a switchback to the bridge, I received the following notification:

  WARNING:

  You are entering a single-player instance. Companions other than summoned minions and mounts must remain outside. Zone resets in 24 hours.

  “Ah,” I said.

  Thirty miles back was a binding stone, and I’d used it. Presumably, I’d have a full day to retrieve the things from my corpse before it disappeared.

  From everything I’d heard, upon reaching the halfway point on the bridge, a big monster would attack me. All I had to do was kill it. No blue torches, false realities, or debilitating battles against my own desires. A simple “tank and spank” encounter, as Rita would have said.

  Hoping my information was correct, I spurred Bingo down the middle of the bridge and tried to stay calm.

  “It’s okay, Bingo,” I said to the horse, even though he didn’t seem frightened. He never spooked. All he really cared about were my magic apples.

  A few minutes later, I looked up and my jaw dropped.

  “Unbelievable,” I said.

  That crazy wizard was trying again. There must have been a binding stone nearby, though I hadn’t seen a path to it from the road.

  This time he flew on the opposite side of the bridge. It didn’t help. Once again, the big sea monster surged into the air and chomped him down, then crashed back into the water.

  Bingo snorted and pranced nervously when the resultant wave rolled over the bridge.

  We started walking again. An hour into it and the shore behind me had grown very small. I could just make out the shadow of the shore ahead. This confirmed the accuracy of my map, which placed me at the halfway point between the two wards. If something were going to happen, it’d be here.

  I dismounted Bingo.

  “You stay here,” I said, and gave him an apple to seal the deal. Then I strode forward with my Mighty Shield, which would block 8,000 points of damage.

  I’d split my class points evenly among diviner, sorcerer, and diabolist. Diviner, sadly, didn’t offer any free spell choices, even after applying all those class points. Now I wished I hadn’t, but it was too late now. I did have an amazing 2nd Order sorcerer spell I thought would do the job, and I looked forward to testing it out.

  My nervous stroll lasted about a minute. Then an enormous monster straight from mythology oozed onto the bridge. Easily fifty feet tall, it matched that wizard-eating monster in size, if not form. That one had been more like an eel. This thing was a cross between a dragon and one of those strange fish that live on the bottom of the ocean, with slick rocky skin covered in jagged barnacles.

  “Discern!”

  NAME: The Terrible Kraken

  CLASS: Minor Champion

  LEVEL: 300

  BASE DAMAGE: 4100

  HEALTH POINTS: 200,000

  “Wow,” I said, and fell back a step. This thing was tough.

  I probed again with my only other good diviner spell.

  Reveal Weaknesses!

  PRIMARY WEAKNESS: Not your puny ass…

  I had no time to appreciate Everlife’s juvenile humor because the creature attacked with a wickedly fast smash. At 4100 points, it sheared off half my shield’s protective power. The next hit would rip the rest away, and more. Sure, I could toss up a Major Shield after that, but 1000 points wouldn’t save me.

  “Shray!” I shouted.

  A beam of orange light stabbed from the end of my staff, hitting it in the chest.

  Having never cast Shrink Ray before, I was curious what would happen. Per the spell description, the kraken immediately shrank half its size to twenty feet tall. In theory, it would stay that way for two minutes.

  Now for my big one—a spell acquired at 101 called Word of Death. For whatever the reason, this spell didn’t have an aliasing option. Which was fine. Speed wasn’t an issue here.

  I opened my mouth with the intent of casting, but the sound that issued forth resembled nothing human. A jagged mix of consonants, vowels, and groans clawed from my throat. Unlike every other spell I’d cast, this one didn’t feel at all like a morphine drip. This spell felt as if I’d gargled with razor blades and washed them down with acid.

  The effect on the kraken, however, was worse by far, staggering it for a massive 85,000 points of damage. The thing’s rocky hide cracked down the middle, spraying the area in a geyser of frothy red blood. It howled so loudly, that if not for the shrink spell, it might have burst my eardrums.

  But it didn’t die. No, it still had 115,000 health points, and Word of Death had a real head-scratcher of a cooldown: once per level, or once per death. Meaning I’d either have to die to cast it again or raise an entire level.

  I tried summoning a crystalline demon named “Sharadra” for 4,500 mana. It also needed a diamond, an amethyst, and two aquamarines—which I had—but my tortured throat wouldn’t make the words. When I tried silent-casting, this resulted in a terrific headache, but no demon.

  Desperately I ran, mouthing spells that wouldn’t cast, and not the profanity the moment called for. Word of Death … The spell description hadn’t said anything about me losing my voice, dammit.

  The kraken followed, slamming the ground behind me and roaring. If not for the shrink ray, it would have caught up in a single step.

  A minute later, my voice returned.

  “Fwip!”

  Mighty Fire Whip snapped a lash of fire through the air that sizzled against the kraken’s wetness, sending up a cloud of oily black smoke.

  “MBS!” I yelled.

  Mighty Bane Strike was another new spell. This one warped the intervening space with a series of detonations, rocking the creature for a 1000 points a pop.

  “Sprint!” I shouted, then shot between its three legs.

  Sure, the thing hit like a falling mountain, but it was slow and I was fast. I could have run away, but my newfound power felt surprisingly good. Also, I was showing off a little.

  To myself, I supposed.

  Surprised by my sudden proximity, the kraken roared again. In response, the countless barnacles clinging to it popped open, spewing a swarm of creepy crawlies straight out of a night terror. They plastered my invisible shield wetly in a coat of suckered mouths lined with razor-sharp teeth.

  Just like that, I couldn’t see where I was going. The kraken didn’t need to see. It stomped and smashed around, bursting the remnants of my 8,000 point shield and crushing me for a residual 200 points of damage. The sucker creatures were on me now. Didn’t matter that my amulet nullified the pain. The nasty things were eating me alive as I thrashed in primitive, uncontrollable terror.

  An unlucky whomp from the kraken’s tail caught me a blow to the side. Not a lot of damage, but it flung me through the air and out over the water. Even the things clinging to me seemed surprised because they paused in their chewing. Then, just before I hit the water, the enormous wizard-eating snake monster’s head broke the surface and swallowed me in a single chomp.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Jaddow’s right,” I said bitterly, standing on my last bind point thirty miles away. “You’re the worst player ever.”

  Everything I owned, including my summoning gems, was gone for good in the belly of that thing in the water. Well, almost everything. After ste
pping off the stone, I noticed Myrialla’s magical acorn gleaming on my chest next to my noob pouch. Proof, if any were needed, that the No Loot flag meant I’d never lose it.

  Thoughtlessly, I grabbed it with my bare hand…

  When I finally mustered the strength to let go, it was dark outside. A check of my internal clock showed over six hours had passed in pure and utter bliss.

  Clearly, the narcotic effect here—versus Heroes’ Landing—was dangerously addictive. Maybe because there was no sanctuary flag. Or maybe the effect got worse with each touch. Whatever the reason, I needed to be more careful with the thing.

  For now, I put it in my noob pouch, then looped the pouch around my neck.

  “Dammit,” I said, feeling hungry. Also, at some point, I’d urinated on myself.

  I summoned an apple and started walking back.

  Supposedly there was a city a few miles beyond the bridge. A Ward 2 version of Heroes’ Landing called Heroes’ Reach. If I pushed through the day into the night and beat the kraken, there’d be good food waiting for me, and stores to buy clothes. I’d use whatever loot the kraken gave to pay for it.

  It was nighttime when I reached the bridge. My poor horse, Bingo, wasn’t anywhere in sight. Probably eaten. Oddly, this saddened me. As lucid horses went, he’d been a good one.

  “This one’s for you, Bingo,” I said quietly.

  My next fight with the Kraken went differently. This time, rather than stare at the thing in awe while it slammed my shield to hell, I zapped it with Shrink Ray, then followed up with a non-series spell called Deep Freeze. The monster had sloshed so much water onto the bridge that the spell turned a thirty-foot patch of it into a Mythian ice-skating rink.

  Krakens, it turned out, weren’t the most graceful of creatures. Down it went in a bridge-shaking crump, scattering a swarm of clinging beasties. The nasty things skittered around helplessly on the ice, and I fried them with a Greater Rain of Fire. This melted the ice, but I was already moving under the power of Greater Sprint—this time backward.

  I settled into a rotating pattern where I’d hit the kraken with a high-damage spell followed by something to slow it: