The War (Play to Live: Book #6)

by D. Rus

  The dwarf kept talking while Yaroslav stood with a blank look on his face, trying to blink away the semi-transparent label blocking his view:

  Status alert! Your craftsmanship has increased. Blacksmith's work: +1. Current rank: Apprentice.

  I stood on the shaking, disfigured mountain which had forever become a, monument to our epic battle. The more quick-witted warriors were already taking historical screenshots of each other in front of the huge gray mountain, the soot-covered First Priest and the unconscious god.

  I looked at the Fallen One’s emaciated figure. He seemed to be sleeping.

  The Fallen One turned out to be wise enough to avoid burning himself out completely. He had made a conscious decision to do what Aulë did; upon reaching almost complete exhaustion, he sank into a healing sleep.

  A pre-school girl appeared out of nowhere. She was sobbing quietly, pressing her face into the chopped-off, dirty white ear she had picked up on the ground.

  Some of the boys brought ''permanent'' enamel paint and hurriedly signed the mountain side, commending the warriors and leaving their mark for future generations.

  The mountain top had largely melted away after coming in contact with the high-temperature plasma. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that two gods had fought here.

  The imprints of bodies and hands gave it all away. The drops of blood that had turned into rubies were now barely distinguishable inside the muddy quartz. The cradle of the Unnamed infant, decorated with Olympic silk and mommy’s loot, had left permanent grooves in the stone.

  And I had left my footprints. First the marks of aggressively approaching boots, then the prints made by shaky bare feet sprinkled with scraps of burnt flesh. Then there were obscure crimson puddles; alas, I was no god. Yes, my blood was of a thicker consistency than normal, but I still had a long way to go until I would be bleeding precious rubies of immense power.

  Feathers of different colors, soft fluff and flocks of black fur were gently falling from the sky. The battered armies of Inferno and Seventh Heaven took a break from their eternal struggle.

  Lightfighter was slowly dragging away Asmodeus’ broken, slightly twitching body. The winged figure of the Throne disappeared in the portal majestically.

  Our demon allies took quite a beating. True, Asmodeus and his troops were outnumbered, but I had expected more from a mighty creature with thousands of years of experience.

  Could it be that the Thrones had turned into something substantially more powerful? Maybe they weren’t weak-willed game dummies anymore. Maybe they had finally cast off the behavior algorithms that used to bind them hand and wing.

  After all, a few powerful Asian alliances were farming Seventh Heaven. Surely they had some Gifted ones, with the Spark. Plus, the new sectarians drew parallels between the angels and some aspects of the world’s most prominent religions and had already built a few sanctuaries. Perhaps their prayers landed them a mighty avatar from the first dozen.

  The infant winced in his sleep, distracting me from my thoughts. I held him carefully and rather awkwardly, not having much previous experience. I knew that even a battle axe couldn’t harm this baby, but looking at his fragile limbs sent a pang to my heart and made my fingers shake. Sorry, little one…For it was I who killed your mother...

  The clan staff and the stern-looking green goblins were already restoring order. They pushed back the curious and sent the new arrivals to the fortress walls. They nipped all looting attempts in the bud and carefully documented all artifacts of divine presence.

  As for loot, Macaria had left behind only one precious gift; my baby blood brother. The rest sank into the mountain or disintegrated into magic molecules under the Fallen One’s energy flow.

  Cutting out a divine piece of jewelry from the mountain was not complicated. But my soul protested, begging me not to put anymore weight on its fragile essence.

  I walked over to the spot of the Sun God’s demise and probed the pile of loot with my bare toes. Sadly, it was mostly junk.

  My charred greedy pig screeched like a dying seagull when the divine clothing disintegrated into dust and got carried away by the wind. Fallen One, goddammit! That’s not the way to go! A true barbarian. Boy, oh boy!

  My face grew dark. The losses turned out to be worse than I thought. Among the ashes I found chips of black wood; my staff. As they say, the old gray mare isn't what she used to be.

  Grinding my teeth as I felt pain all over my body, I squatted down, carefully placing the infant in one arm. I held out my bleeding wrist to the healers bustling nearby. They were surprisingly professional and swiftly bandaged me. Were they real-life doctors playing as AlterWorld clerics?

  I nodded my gratitude and memorized the name of the girl who treated my wound. She was a Vet second line cover warrior. There was no way I would tear a girl away from these guys; they had a huge demographic disbalance. The situation had just recently begun improving as female battalions started recruiting NPCs. The soldiers lacked a rich imagination though and ended up with dozens of the same exact copies of a pirated Miss Universe or the most wanton image of Angelina Jolie. How did they even tell them all apart?

  I turned to my staff. "Get all these nosy types outta here. Snowie! I want your bodyguards to form a wall. What do you mean no one survived? What a shame…Hey, don’t be sad, your boys’ll respawn. I remember all their names."

  After all the curious individuals had been escorted off the premises, I started picking up the remains of my staff. The enemies didn’t need to know that the world’s most powerful weapon was in pieces.

  I cluthed the severed bottom part with the unusually large crystal. When the weapon had attached itself to the inexhaustible source of the Sun God’s power, the demon jar leveled up god knows how many times. The precious stone significantly increased in size, obtaining more complex faceting and internal structure.

  But all my greedy hopes were extinguished when I saw the huge crack running right through the middle of the crystal. It completely ruined the artifact’s exterior. The bastard staff had consumed too much.

  I passed a finger over one of its faces; it felt cold and empty. Could it be? Had the Demon Soul really died?

  In reply I heard a quickly receding burst of laughter, almost like a hallucination. So the bastard escaped!

  I smiled to myself. Screw him! To be honest, even I was scared of the staff. It was just that I didn’t have the luxury of showing my fear when I felt it.

  With an effort, I pulled up the staff’s status panel. The letters floated before my eyes, just barely forming crooked lines of words displayed in an unusual font. The artifact parameters were spinning like numbers on the reels of a slot machine.

  AlterWorld was still stormy. Game algorithms were in conflict with the physics of the newborn world.

  Empty Soul Prison. Has known Divine Blood.

  It can no longer contain a Higher Being, but the crystal’s walls are still strong enough to hold captive dozens of beings of a lower rank.

  Effect 1: +409 Intelligence.

  Customization: This is a unique item, the only one of its kind in the world. The artifact can accumulate magic energy and share it with its owner.

  Artifact status: damaged. Mana leakage and captive soul escape attempts can occur. Chances of spontaneous self-destruction are tripled. Instances of erroneous operation of the functional are possible. Taking precautions before operation is highly advised.

  I shrugged. I wasn’t Asmodeus, didn’t need to trap other astral beings. And the ethical side of the question really bothered me. And how would I drive beings into a broken crystal anyway? The instructions didn’t cover that.

  But the staff could still be used as a mana accumulator. Standard artifacts were usually gigantic, outrageously expensive, and, most importantly, could not be utilized by humans. They had to be kept in castles, dragged around in a mobile dome cart, or at least stored inside a golem. But the human owner wouldn’t get any charge from it. A battery is a battery.
>
  I hid the staff in my inventory. Its capacity was still unknown, and I would need to run a series of in-depth experiments to determine it.

  I took a short break from looting and smiled involuntarily as I looked at my soundly sleeping brother. Then I reached into the pile of ashes again.

  I found another piece of the staff; the slightly melted and jammed adamant blade on a short wooden fragment. The metal had lost its pink shine, corroded by acid. The pH of divine blood was outrageous, just like that of the aliens from Alien vs. Predator.

  I passed my fingers over the edge of the blade, feeling sorry for it. I pulled up the interfaces again. It was easier this time and I didn’t have to overstrain myself.

  Personalized sacral dagger: God Slayer.

  A blade of damaged adamant that has tasted the blood of a Higher Being. It can no longer strike down celestial beings, but any mortal killed by it for sacrificial purposes will become randomly devoted to any of the sleeping gods who are temporarily resting in the Great Nothingness. With a little luck and the benevolence of the dagger’s owner, the sacrificed may become a priest.

  Customization: This is a unique item, the only one of its kind in the world. At the moment of sacrifice, it is possible to summon a diety into our world.

  These were pretty serious characteristics. The adamant did not survive the prolonged contact with the Sun God’s blood, and the blade got bent. But the immense amounts of energy that could have resulted in a real miracle had changed the weapon into something odd and frightening.

  Sure it would be a lot of fun to cancel an enemy’s current religious status and redevote them to some long-forgotten unknown gods whose name is Legion. The Lord of an Oasis which dried up ten thousand years ago, or the Master of a Foul Swamp overgrown with a coniferous forest of the same age.

  But taking into account the number of our enemies and the strict laws of the Universal Balance, the tiny chances of summoning a god would come into play sooner or later and bring Cthulhu, Azathoth and other such vile creatures back into existence.

  My officers were giving me fearful looks. I scratched my burnt brow with the tip of the blade, wondering if I should drive this thing into the wall next to Lloth’s dagger. A quick blow from the side would cause it to break near the hilt as practice has already shown.

  My greedy pig reached his burn-covered paws to me and begged me to keep the unique artifact. Life is hard and, given our circumstances, long. Who knows what sorts of unbelievable things it may yet send my way.

  I decided to store the artifact in the far corner of my spatial pocket for now, then reached into the pile of ashes again, sifting it through my fingers.Could it really be that Fall had turned the ownerless items into pure energy?

  Something jingled; my sensitive fingers finally ran across and object of value. It was a ring, very slim but surprisingly heavy, clearly made of the stuff from the lowest cells on the periodic table. I hoped it didn’t hum like some busted reactor.

  I looked at its characteristics. The world was no longer coming apart and revealed the item’s details without lagging or distortions. What I saw drew a rapturous gasp from me.

  Ring of True Flame. Divine artifact. Personal upon pickup.

  Effect 1: +200% plasma resistance.

  Effect 2: +100% fire spell power.

  Customization: This is a unique item, the only one of its kind in the world. Created out of solar wind by the power of a Higher Being, the ring contains 24 cubic miles of the sun’s coronal mass. The artifact’s owner can break magical chains with willpower, releasing the elements they may contain.

  My jaw dropped. I was holding a nuclear grenade! Rip out the pin, throw it at the enemy, and you will have wiped out everyone within a 9-mile radius.

  The logical thing to do would have been to give the artifact to the clan’s top wizard, a School of Fire buff. But I had a better idea.

  Stealthily looking around, I decidedly pocketed the ring. My precious!

  My greedy pig applauded, pleased with his student who just passed the Ninja-looting 101 final exam. But, as the gods were my witnesses, I didn’t do it out of greed. It was just that I couldn’t give an artifact of such caliber to someone else for safekeeping. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

  I once went hunting with this girl back in the real world. Watching her point her gun everywhere so carelessly almost gave me a heart attack. I found myself constantly dodging the barrel aimed right at my belly. Now imagine someone that careless in our castle. They might turn the Super Nova into a mile-wide plasma ball of plasma by simply lifting an eyebrow, Fallen One forbid! It was better for me to keep the artifact. What’s another heavy responsibility for me? I’m used to it.

  I looked around. My officers stood nervously nearby. Pale faces flashed around us. The sounds of battle turned into cries of alarm and sometimes even hysterical shouting.

  The entire world of the game had gone perma. Like an overripe fruit falls off the tree that bore it, so AlterWorld had detached from the reality of Earth and fell into the raging river of the macro-Universe.

  Mom pushed her way through the crowd of anxious guards. She probed me in a hurry, then counted my limbs and heaved a sigh of relief. "In the chat, they said the Sun God burned you."

  I gave her a reassuring smile, feeling relieved myself. A clan is a clan, but a family – a real family – is irreplaceable. Maybe I would even bring Dad back into existence some day. The question is, would it make him happy?

  I shook my head, driving away the absurd thoughts. ''Mom, whoever hurts us won’t live to see another day! The Sun Prick got his ass kicked. Oh, and congrats! I have a baby brother now!"

  That explained to Mom what was in that bundle I was holding on my arm. She raised her brows in astonishment, wide-eyed.

  I handed her the infant. ''Can you look after him? He’s the son of the Fallen One and Macaria. Fall got knocked out and Macaria’s gone. You’ve probably seen the world status alert. I gave him my blood, and we heavily depend on each other now. Seriously. He and I will die on the same day.''

  Mom gently held him to her chest. Her eyes filled with tears. "A foster child is as good as a grandson.''

  Sensing desired food, the infant reached for the breasts hidden underneath the lettuce green priestly tunic.

  I wrinkled my brow pensively. Of course the baby needed to be breast-fed at that age. God knows what he might turn into if he drinks blood. ''Our hounds just pupped. Maybe they can feed him? Like an ancient legendary hero. Plus Bomba’s expecting. She’ll have enough milk for a whole litter.''

  Mom blushed slightly. ''I’ll breast-feed him myself!''

  ''Um…How?!''

  The baby was impatiently squeezing her breasts and whimpering, demanding his rightful food ration.

  ''Well…As soon as he touched me, I felt that I will have milk. And…it’s gonna happen very soon! Max, I have to go!''

  I shook my head in surprise. Divine will was sacred. Once the infant felt hungry, the world chose the path of least resistance and instantly provided a wet-nurse. ''All right then. But don’t leave the Super Nova. I appoint Snowie and his legionaries to protect my brother. It is inevitable that someone will try to kidnap him. I’ll go take care of business, then come check on you.''

  After giving a series of orders, I saw Mom and the others to their portal, then gave a sigh of relief; now I had one less thing to worry about. Hang on, Fall! I already gave the order; a portalist and a mule should arrive any second now. They’ll get you to the divine dorm in the Crypt. All three of you will dream together, frightening each other with your secret nightmares.

  I beckoned to the Analyst and Orcus who had pleading looks on their faces. ''Report! Oh, and…has anyone seen my kitten?''

  The Analyst replied impatiently, ''He’s at the foot of the mountain. Please, Sir, tell us, have we all gone perma?''

  Everyone froze, awaiting my answer and ready to read my lips.

  I listened to the celestial spheres, remembered how omniscience h
ad failed when the two gods clashed, then slowly nodded. ''That’s right. We are on our own now. I don’t know if we have any connections with the real world left. But you can turn off the game servers. AlterWorld no longer needs them.''

  ''No connection, Max! None! We’re cut off from everything like a sunken submarine! Dan would’ve hung himself already if he could. He’s going crazy, smashing the virtual interface to bits. He’s got a wife and kids on Earth.''

  I bit my lip. I had seen his family. They were great people, a legend among the Vets.

  I ground my teeth and said, ''We’ll think of something. Tell the clan to stop panicking. I’ll do everything I can. Once our gods feel better, we’ll demand their help. Another oder; everyone is to attend public prayer twice a day in order to help the Dark Pantheon gods recover. They have given their best. Now two are in a coma, and one is confined to bed. Macaria has sacrificed herself to save her child. Only that crafty bitch Lloth still sits snugly in the shadows.''

  My officers left the conversation to make a list of orders. I looked warily at the sky, regretting having mentioned the Spider goddess. What if she heard, Fallen One forbid? All our top players were off the field at that point. Very few were left standing, including myself. A team of invalids is what we were now.

  But then, I did have quite a reputation with the gods. I had just killed two of them. Perhaps that was enough to scare away the eight-legged Lloth?

  The chaos subsided. Clear orders, promises, and a few punches helped everyone overcome the initial shock. I even saw commandant Medved give a box on the ears to some warrior who had already succumbed to depression.

  Many had this look as if they were plotting something. Some of the boys were unsteady on their feet like drunks. The only ones who didn’t fidget and even carried themselves straight and with assurance were the NPCs. I wondered if they even understood the situation.

  A few dwarves nearby were trying to break the gravestone of some Lightsider with their huge hammers. They must have heard about Yavanna’s heroic feat. Well, go ahead, try to saw through gold…