Janus and The Prince: A LitRPG Saga (The Nightmares of Alamir Book 2)

by Noam Oswin

  Requirements:

  Remitech Knowledge.

  Mystech Knowledge.

  Black Keycard.

  “Well… this is new.”

  I had never tried creating or operating mechanical doors before with [Gatekeeper], which was something I realized. “So… what exactly is Remitech?”

  My nostrils flared and drew me to the smell of an approaching human. Two. Male. Young. One virgin. The other not. Lacking Vitamin C. Muttering quietly under my breath, I phased through the automatic doors, turning to the first room on my right finding myself in what appeared to be a restroom. The odd sight of doors, stalls, and toilets, amused me.

  Toilets.

  When was the last time I saw toilets? I remembered. The toilet at the hotel I used to freshen up. The few hours before my death. The ones before me were somewhat different in shape and configuration, such as being lower on the ground and having no water in the bowls, but there was no mistaking it that they were toilets.

  “I’m telling you, the bastard is just doing it because he wants his cock sucked.”

  I phased through one of the stalls. The first stall. People hardly ever use the first stall.

  Two humans walked in, and my nose alighted with the beautiful scents of roast turkey.

  “You think?”

  “Of course. I mean, what other reason would he do it? He’s hoping Sophia will drop down on her knees, fondle his balls and suck him dry.”

  “Sounds like you’re confusing yourself for him mate,”

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  Both boys, I realized by the pitch of their voices, and the ridiculous amount of testosterone in their systems went in different stalls. The sound of peeing reached my ears as I eavesdropped on their conversation.

  “But, yeah, I mean – come on. You’ve seen the chick. I’m pretty sure every guy in the damn brigade has wet dreams about boning her.”

  “Better not. She’s the daughter of High Eminent Sophos.”

  “Wait, for real?” The boy whistled. “Damn. What the hell is the daughter of the High Eminent of Progress doing in the AAA?”

  “Something about her being disowned. I heard her younger sister was chosen by High Eminent Sophos as his true heir. They say she’s a prodigy.”

  “I don’t give a shit about how smart she is. I wanna know how she compares to her sister in the looks departments – you know, the thing that actually matters?”

  “How am I supposed to know? Being able to see a child of one High Eminent in my life is already a miracle. Two is just asking for the impossible.”

  “Think I’ll find a picture in the Godscripts?”

  My ears perked up. Oh, Godscripts?

  “No, I don’t think you’ll find a picture of the High Eminent of Progress’ daughter in the fucking Godscripts.”

  “Jeez, relax dude.”

  “Whatever. We have to stay alert. Remember there was a breach.”

  “Heard the announcement. What’s the big deal? With the Seven and General Hoplite himself around, I don’t think any nightmare that managed to get lucky and sneak in is going to be able to find their way out.”

  “Do you even pay attention? The nightmare is a Planewalker.”

  “They said probable Planewalker smartass, I was paying attention. And as I said, Amendments are around. So what if the nightmare can manipulate space or create portals or whatever – they’re not beating the fucking Seven, and they’re certainly not beating General Hoplite.”

  The two boys departed from their stalls, the sound of running water echoing in my ears from a faucet, before the doors swung open, and I phased out of my stall, musing at the new information.

  So, I’ve confirmed Hoplite is here and apparently, I’m called a Planewalker.

  The last time I faced Alhamis’s Champion, it ended with a bitter retreat of abandoning Zlosta and fleeing with my tail literally between my legs. Unfortunately as it was, I couldn’t beat a boy who snapped his fingers and summoned black holes. It was simply unfair.

  If I poison him, would I still get the experience?

  I mused it over. Killing Hoplite with poison was a bit far-fetched. Surely he’d have measures against it. Maybe if I used hostages? No, that would only work if the hostage was someone he couldn’t afford to hurt.

  I needed a Champion’s Blood to be able to get the Heart of Sisyphus and right now, Hoplite was the nearest Champion available. But getting his blood would be… difficult.

  “…I just need to check the mirror and I’ll be right ou – “

  I was invisible. I made sure of it. Yet, the boy’s gaze landed directly on me, just as my gaze landed directly on him.

  Neo Saintarelli

  [AAA Recruit]

  [Lance Brigade Member]

  Lv. 14

  He was young. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. Dark-brown hair and burning green eyes, babyish face and tanned skin. He was so young that for a second, I believed he would have a better sense of self-preservation, and understand that his life weighed on what decisions he made next.

  Unfortunately, he was young, and thus, stupid. His mouth opened to sound the alarm and my body moved faster than I had ever willed it to. Invisible to visible. Intangible to tangible. My right hand jerked, claws tearing out his Adam’s apple. His cry became a muffled gurgle.

  The scent of blood was divine. My teeth, against their will latched his bloody throat.

  Bliss shot through me as I ripped his larynx lose. Blood splattered all over the bathroom. The sensation of meat sent wave after wave of ecstasy down me, so much so I almost moaned in delight.

  A nightmare shall be as a nightmare is to be.

  The boy staggered, dropping forward. Blood pooled from the wound in his neck and I knew there was no time. There was no time to hesitate. If this…Neo boy did not emerge from the bathroom in the next few minutes, his friend would walk in. If the blood and evidence was not wiped clean in the next few minutes, there would be suspicion.

  “Bon appetit.”

  A nightmare must do as a nightmare must do.

  I wondered, for a moment, if different humans had different tastes. Did their different physiological and genetic make-up contribute to different palatal flavors? What then, would be the recipe for the most delicious Alamirian?

  Perhaps Erzili will know.

  [You have slayed a Recruit of the Alhamisian Adventurer Army!]

  [50,620 Experience Points Gained]

  The title [Genocidal] has come into effect for the Species: [Human].

  [25 Genocide Points Earned]

  You are no longer afflicted by the negative status [Blood Parched]

  You are no longer afflicted by the negative status [Flesh Famished]

  You will need to feed again in [7] Days.

  Title [Gorger] has come into effect.

  I grabbed the clothes, the uniform, I realized, frowning at the bloodstains. With [Ice Manipulation] I turned on the nearest faucet, seeping the blood-soaked material with water, and then I drew the water out of it, drawing out the blood as well in an improvised wash. I splashed the bathroom with water and drew the water into the sink once more to get rid of any extra evidence.

  Racial Skill: [Form Feaster] is Ready.

  Skill: [Form Feaster] Lv. Max

  Details: A unique skill granted to those of the Ghilan species. Partially eating humans, demi-humans or nightmares will enable you to attain elements of their physical appearance, bits of their knowledge, personality, and abilities. Completely consuming a human, demi-human or a nightmare will enable you to fully take on their physical appearance, and completely gain their memories, knowledge, and abilities.

  “Yo, Saintarelli, are you jacking it or something in there? What’s taking you?”

  “[Form Feaster].”

  The doors opened and Vik emerged, entering into the bathroom. Taller than his friend. Buffer. Dirty blonde hair accompanied a delinquent’s face.

  Vik Vistorel

  [AAA Recruit]

  [Lance Brig
ade Member]

  Lv. 17

  “I’m not you, Vistorel,” the words smoothly came from my mouth. “Sex isn’t the only thing on my mind two-four-seven.”

  Vik glanced at me, narrowing his eyes a bit. He sniffed into the air, brows raising. “What’s with the weird smell?”

  “What smell?”

  “Can’t smell it?”

  “I typically don’t try to smell stuff in public restrooms.”

  Vik’s nose scrunched. “Good idea.” He shook his head. “Come on. Let’s go – that prick Juma’s calling us for a meeting.”

  I could hear his steady heartbeat. No difference. No change. Either he couldn’t tell his friend was an imposter, or perhaps my skills at acting were vastly more superior than I realized. Walking behind him and adopting the walking style of the boy, I did a quick refresher of the new set of memories that came with my meal.

  I was Neo Saintarelli. Third son of the Saintarelli family. Marisian Father and Alhamisian mother. Oh, mother is a surgeon who moved away from Maris, and father is a thriving businessman? What a beautiful family you have Neo.

  The memories didn’t come all at once. I had to actively search through the collection of knowledge of Neo Saintarelli’s memories to find answers. The more I searched, the more knowledge I dredged up, and the more I learned.

  And like all teenage boys… there’s a lot of memories of masturbation. Why am I not surprised?

  Strange as it was, there was little knowledge on Remitech and Mystech or what a Black Keycard was. Instead, I found the most interesting thing about Neo Saintarelli was how he managed to see me even though I was invisible. It was his Flair.

  “…Flair? Interesting.”

  “Hm? Say something?”

  “I said that’s there’s a fly. It’s distressing.”

  Flair.

  The human equivalent of a nightmare’s Epithet Skill. Unlike Epithet Skills, however, Flairs were not based on names. Flairs weren’t based on anything. They could be genetic and transfer across family. They could be random mutations that occurred. They could be a result of personality, conviction or faith. They could be created after undergoing great stress and torture.

  Neo’s Flair was dubbed [Mana Eye]. It wasn’t particularly powerful. It could be obscured easily by objects, which was why he never saw me while I was hiding in the stall. All it did, was create a colored outline that corresponded to an individual or object’s magic capacity.

  So, he hadn’t seen me after all.

  His last memories were of entering the bathroom and encountering a floating, human-like mass of glowing dark red magic. He’d known I was a nightmare by the color. Darker colors indicated darker, more corrupt magic, whereas lighter colors meant the inverse.

  How unfortunate for you, Neo.

  Still, I was amused. What were the odds of encountering a person who just so happened to have a skill that would be capable of circumventing my invisibility?

  If Alamir possessed gods and demons, there was no reason to believe fate, chance, and providence was not equally real. I remembered the words of the [Comicality] user: Thy purpose, from creation till cessation is already determined. A nightmare must be as a nightmare is to be.

  I didn’t like it. The idea of someone else determining my future was irritating.

  “What’s up with you?”

  Vik jabbed me in the ribs with his shoulder.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re making a constipated face. What’s eating you?”

  I tried not to chortle. Poor choice of words there friend. “I’ve been thinking.”

  The boy sniggered. “Since when?”

  “Fuck off Vistorel.”

  Vik let out an obnoxious laugh. I forced myself to roll my eyes. For so long I’d been dealing with ancient beings and nightmares that I’d almost forgotten what it was like to have a conversation with a person that wasn’t several hundred years old.

  Navigating through Sector One-Zero-One, I tried to keep my amazement at the infrastructure in check. I felt as if I was in an entirely different world from the one I had gotten accustomed to. Men and women moved about in uniforms with military judiciousness, paying no heed to the massive manmade marvels of smoothly paved streets, conical and prism-like buildings, towers which resembled mobius strips –

  There were individuals, hovering above the ground, as they moved from place to place, with a digital screen in front of them they activated by touch. There were tiny golem-like creatures with glowing eyes and vacuums for hand, going about vanishing dirt from pathways. There were lights = lights and lampposts which seemed to be tied to tiny rocks that emitted energy.

  Soldiers patrolled Sacrosanct Rifles in their hands, the devices having different variations and settings. Neo’s memories told me that attached to the hips of the soldiers were Sacrosanct Sabers as a secondary weapon and shrunken Saint Shields. Every soldier was equipped with a gun, a sword, and a shield along with their uniform.

  Each of those weapons possessed concentrated Holy Magic. As an Undead creature, those weapons were extremely dangerous. I might as well be a regular civilian in an armed complex filled with trigger-happy soldiers.

  Lucky me.

  “Vik, do you know anything about Remitech?”

  The blond teen rose his brow at me. “You mean other than how we’re too broke to afford it?”

  “Other than that.”

  Neo’s memories on the subject were little to nonexistent. He knew it was a blanket term for something developed by the Eminency of Progress, but beyond that, the boy did not know anything on the topic. The cheapest gadget, a Slate, was over twenty thousand manna, a sum enough to feed a family of five for a full year.

  Vik rubbed the back of his head. “When we move up from Middlings to Prominents, maybe we’ll be able to know what all the hype is about. For now, forget about that shit and just focus on killing monsters and raising your level. You’re what, still like three… four levels behind me?”

  “Three.”

  The taller boy patted me on the back. “You gotta catch up Saintarelli. If you’re going to be dead weight, I’ll cut you off and find someone with more drive to hang with.”

  My lips pressed softly together. Charming. “Like Sophia?”

  “Fuck that bitch.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ve made that intention clear several times.”

  Vik clicked his tongue. “Bitch fucking woke us up by splashing water on us, remember? From day one she’s been acting high-and-fucking mighty. She probably thinks she’s better than us just cause her dad is a High Eminent. I’ll show her.”

  The memory of that day came clear from Neo’s mind along with something else. Bunk beds… roommates? Co-ed showers and living spaces? I almost laughed. Whose wise idea to let a group of hormone-riddled teenagers live, eat and sleep in the same place?

  I could smell all aspects of their physiology. A significant portion of individuals I could perceive were pent up with sexual energy. Vik standing beside me was one such individual.

  Well… now, is there a way I can use this to my advantage?

  Finding a method of escape was important, but not nearly as important as learning more about the enemy, and searching for a way that I would steal Hoplite’s blood.

  Can I use my [Duality] here?

  Splitting timelines to give Vik the slip and search for more information would be the smart thing to do, however, things had changed a bit. As the cowardly me had once pointed out, [Duality] was no longer absolute. I had to be cautious, now. If Giggles was capable of sensing my ability to split timelines, it was no longer in the realm of the impossible for someone else to do so. It was almost guaranteed now, that others could do so.

  I think I’ll wait a bit before using it.

  The other epithet skill in my possession, [Gatekeeper] didn’t allow me to make doors and my [Earth Control] was reduced to such a level at which I could no longer use it to make doors. The only other skill in my arsenal which I could
consider was [Ice Manipulation]. I’d never created a door of ice before, and doors weren’t traditionally made out of something which could melt.

  “Saintarelli, Vistorel – you’re both late.”.

  I hadn’t noticed when we arrived at our destination. There was, gathered before me, a large number of teenagers in uniform. Recruits. Neo’s memories told me they all belonged to the Lance Brigade. His, or now, my brigade. At the front of the group was a boy with dark hair and purple eyes. He was tall. Taller than Neo. Taller than even Vik. There was muscle, clear on his form, yet lean and streamlined. His arms were crossed as he stared us down. My instincts told me that this boy was somehow… different from the rest.

  [Apprentice of the Champion Emeritus]

  [The Sycophant’s Chosen]

  [Child of Destiny]

  Juma Al’ Amir

  Lv. 61

  What…?

  Chapter 20: Destiny

  The boy in front of me, Juma, was different from anyone and anything else I had encountered in my stay in the world. Attempting to get a glimpse of his aura with Neo’s [Mana Eye] brought me the overwhelming color of white. Brightness above and beyond anything I could put into words.

  Seventh Sense – WARNING!

  You have encountered a [Child of Destiny].

  WARNING!

  Meddling in the affairs of a [Child of Destiny] is highly not recommended.

  WARNING!

  Staying within the vicinity of a [Child of Destiny] may have severe consequences.

  I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t want to stick around to find out. Juma’s gaze landed upon me and I felt something sting. For god’s sakes, he’s just a child –

  He didn’t feel like a child. There was a sharp, cunning intelligence behind his purple eyes. The color swirled and gazing into them, I found myself being pulled forward, almost as if wanting to touch them.

  “What are you doing?”

  I realized, I had been going, on my own volition, to touch him.

  “Saintarelli, what the fuck?” Vik cursed.

  Well then, how do I play this?

  “You have the most unusual eyes,” I said.

  Numerous pairs of eyes were on me. Staring at me. I wondered if I’d said something unfamiliar. Purple eyes were unusual, as far as I was concerned.