Paladin Yaropolk". I automatically pressed the word in the parenthesis without thinking of whether it was allowed or not. I wanted to see what “undefined” meant. What would the choices be anyway? The System decided that I my actions were within the game logic, so additional text appeared before me:
Allegiance options: Light; Darkness. To select allegiance initiation is required.
The number of questions grew in geometric progression: what does that mean: Paladin of Light or Darkness? What advantages are conferred by allegiance of one type or another? What does allegiance mean anyway? To whom or to what is it? To gods? Did it not become clear that gods were just high level players? Or was I mistaken? The questions appeared one after another, sometimes unrelated to each other, but there were no answers to them. I would have to find everything out for myself. Following a habit I had acquired back in the days of the computer games, I opened my small virtual shelf and placed the artifact on it. What else‒ drag it around in my hands all the time?
“Remember for the future, brother Yaropolk, you should not hide the Book of Knowledge in your personal inventory,” Sharda addressed me. “The specific feature of the object you chose is that in needs to gather knowledge continuously. In inventory it will gather only dust. Don’t forget that.”
“You know how to us-s-se the inventory?” Sartal asked with interest; he had already put on his armor. Miraculously it fit the player, adjusting itself for the unusual reptilian body. “I was-s-s told that before the Academy it’s-s-s imposs-s-s-ible.”
“Why?” I frowned. “Can you not see the status bar?”
“Everyone can see it,” Dietrich said as he approached us. “It’s such an eyesore: useless and covers up some space.”
“Strange… then how did you choose your names?” I remembered my first experience of interacting with the game interface, but the frowning faces of the reptilian and the old guy told me that my question was inappropriate.
“Recruits choose the names, but they are granted by their mentor,” Sharda clarified, coming over to us. “The option of choice is provided only to those recruits who became a player via a kill. Enough talking – it’s time to go! The ceremony for welcoming the Paladins will start in just a few minutes.”
“Welcoming?” I was unable to refrain from asking.
“The Academy is located outside of time,” Dietrich answered because Sharda started towards the door out of the gym without bothering to respond to me. “We were told at the first lesson that one can stay in the Academy even for all of eternity. For everyone else we will either instantly turn into Paladins, or no one will ever remember us again. The Academy will completely wipe the losers from memory.”
“What is the Academy altogether?” I asked the old guy, finding a good topic for conversation.”
“We weren’t told much about it. It seems to be sort of huge obstacle course. Everywhere there it has teachers and training sites so the player chooses on his own how to level up. The number of teachers with whom you can study is unlimited‒ the important part is how to reach them. Because they are scattered throughout the site and as you can guess it’s bloody hard to figure out where the most useful ones are. In order to graduate from the Academy you need to complete ten mandatory lessons. There we will learn to use the main functions. It does not look complicated, but those ten are not located in the same place either. First you have to find them, and then survive trying to get to each one of them.”
“Thank you!” I thanked the old man sincerely. Now I had at least some idea about the Academy. "Dietrich, where are you from?"
“From Germany.”
“But we still understand each other,” I noted with surprise
“There is only one language within the game, and all players speak it,” Sharda who was walking ahead of us deigned to answer. “That was in lesson number one.”
“I missed the lessons,” I reminded the gnome.
“Preparation for the Academy starts three days before departure; the fact that you were clinging to your former life and were unwilling to become a player is your own problem. You cannot burden others with it.” Sharda was not hesitating to hit the soft spot, reminding me how he felt about me. Neither he nor Archibald believed that I would return. Another wave of rage washed over me, but I did not let it take over. I should not succumb to emotions. Instead of getting mad at the gnome I started looking at the Citadel around. We were walking on a blue-green carpet covering the floor of a long and wide corridor. Every twenty steps we passed two doors set in front of each other. On both sides of each door statues of lions stood about a meter and a half tall. I was completely certain that in case of an unforeseen attack the statues would turn into formidable fighters. But on the whole there was nothing unusual or outstanding about the corridor. Nothing that would tell a random visitor who happened to find himself in the Citadel that he was in a fantasy game world and not, for example, in a hallway at Versailles.
Our goal was the twenty-first door. Sharda fiddled with the lock for some time, grumbling a few choice words about some Volson who had not oiled the lock in time. Finally, the obstacle was surmounted and we entered a small dim room lit up by blue light of a portal. There was no way THAT could be anything else.
“Put that on,” Sharda ordered and only then did I see five suits of steel armor, practically identical to the one the gnome was wearing. “Keep your artifacts on. They will combine with the outfit.”
The portal looked so incongruent to the customary world that I had a hard time tearing my gaze from it; then I went to the nearest heap of metal. I picked up the helmet glumly and looked at the gnome sideways: there was no way I could put on all of that by myself. The ancient knights spent hours wriggling into their armor with the help of their squires, while we were allocated just a couple of minutes for the whole thing.
“Just start putting something on,” Dietrich suggested to me; he was turning into a steel monster as I looked. “The elements will fit themselves in place.”
Class suit of armor received
“Amazing,” I whispered as soon as the last element of the armor fit in place. The moment I put my head through the opening of the breastplate it fit into the right location, adjusting itself to my anatomy. Turning into a steel colossus did not feel uncomfortable: the armor felt weightless and did not restrain movement. Had it not jingled when you knocked on it, you could think that you had put on a comfortable track suit. But the most amazing feature was a special holder for my book on the right thigh. Just as I touched it to the holder it attached to it as if it were part of the armor. And again, no constraint or discomfort. I was starting to like being a player.
“If you put on the helmet and lower the visor, you can go under water,” Sharda said, noticing the stunned expressions of the five faces. New players were taught how to dress, but no one had mentioned that we would be given our own sets before going to the Academy.
“Before the irrepressible Yaropolk asks," Sharda added, looking at me with a grin, “only players can see the armor. As for NPCs, instead of the steel they will see whatever clothes are most appropriate for a given situation: formal dinner clothes, track suit, shorts, or even underwear. The System takes care of that. Remember situations when some celebrity constantly appears in public, wearing a different outfit every time? You think it’s because they have vast wardrobes? Yea, right! It’s just a common player who likes to be fawned over by NPCs. Newbies frequently go bonkers once they realize all the perks of the game. So a few words about the armor. The most important thing you must remember for the future: you may take it off only in the Sanctuaries. If you want to have sex, either do it wearing the armor‒it will allow you to do that‒ or go to a Sanctuary. There are no other ways. Any player will be happy to send you for respawn as soon as he sees you without the class armor. Now put on the helmets and lift the visors, everyone. In the Academy you will learn how to make them invisible, but you are supposed to show up in full regalia for the ceremony.”
“But where are the wea
pons?” Monstrichello asked. Packed into a steel suit of armor with his shield at the ready he was a frightening sight; however, the confused expression of a little child who did not receive the promised candy told it all.
“All you are allowed to bring to the Academy is your artifacts,” Sharda explained. “No other weapons. “You will receive your sword after you return. This is true for the others, too, except for Nartalim. Enough talking. They are waiting for us!”
Passing through the portal was memorable. Despite my past game experience it’s one thing when you place your character into the brilliant circle of light while you are sitting in a comfortable cozy armchair and it’s an entirely different matter when you personally have to step into the lightnings and feel all the “pleasures” of the transition yourself. Sharda had never said anything about the operating principle of the portal, so it was unpleasant to feel a short stab of pain, as if someone had quickly pulled me in all directions and immediately compressed me back into my original shape. The pain was so intense that dark circles danced in front of my eyes for several moments. As soon as my vision returned back to normal I looked around and…
“What the hell…!” Monstrichello and Dietrich whispered at the same time, practically taking the words off the tip of my tongue. Nartalim scornfully snorted, as if he saw nothing unusual in the fact that we were transported to the stands of an enormous amphitheater. Having settled in a free seat the elf was looking with a bored expression at one of the several hovering screens broadcasting to the players in the upper rows what was going on in the arena. Even though it would be a stretch calling our places top rows: there were about fifty rows filled with players above us. On the other hand, there were a lot more rows below us and they were also filled with players. There were those who had tails, horns, wings, who were tall or short; the variety of game races was stunning. The only common feature among the players was that they were all humanoid: two legs, two arms, one head and walking upright. At least in the area of the stands visible to me.
A barely audible pop sounded from the right causing me to turn to look. In the few seats still available some red monsters in Paladins’ armor had just appeared and I was barely able to keep my jaw from dropping once my brain compared the appearance of our new neighbors with the image stored in my memory. Orcs! They looked exactly like the orcs from “The Lord of the Rings” movie, only their skin was red!
“Shardaganbat, your recruit wants to tell us something?” one of the Paladin orcs growled. It dawned on me only then that I was staring at the orcs like a sheep staring at a new gate, and they did not like it.
“Grygz, friend, good to see you!” Sharda exclaimed gladly, standing between the orcs and myself seemingly inadvertently. — “Oh, I see you have two candidates this month? How did you get them?”
“Wiped out one long-eared monster, so we got a chance to turn a minion into a player,” Grygz replied, looking at Nartalim with obvious meanness. “And you are still teaching people and elves?”
“Someone’s got to do it,” Sharda grinned. — “Why not me?”
“Oh here you are!” we heard a pleased male voice. “Sharda, you are bloody had to find!”
Gnome suddenly deflated, turned around and looked glumly at something behind my back. The change in the appearance of my mentor was so different from his normal cheerful appearance that I could not resist the urge to look at the new guest. If someone can intimidate Sharda that much, I should treat him with caution as well. Then later I will be able to …. Damn that!
A rather attractive smiling player wearing the loose robe of a mage was standing next to us. Grey streaks at the temples suited amazingly well to the deep black eyes making the mage potentially extremely attractive to any woman. The man’s smile was so sincere that it would have made me feel that I liked that person, even though I didn't intend to, but for one thing. Those black eyes were the last thing I remembered from my previous life. The owner of these eyes calmly and without unneeded emotions had killed a squad of special force troopers; then his own death turned me into a player. And now Devir, who appeared in front of us accompanied by two other mages the same as himself, wanted to accomplish one of his quests: kill the insolent pest.
“Just try to attack him!” The gnome said glumly, but made no attempt to stand between Devir and myself. If the mage had decided to destroy me nothing would have stopped him.
“Sharda, I am not going to do anything with him myself!" laughed the mage. “Just think: would I be able to get any experience points from him? Why would I bother? I transferred the quest.”
“WHAT?” the gnome exclaimed in amazement, but the mage was not listening to him any more. Turning to his companions Devir started describing the task:
“Target number one is Yaropolk, he is a priority. The one who manages to destroy him in the Academy will receive my personal favor. The main task is to prevent him from coming back. If Yaropolk graduates from the Academy, you would be all better off not coming back at all — I’ll wipe you out myself. Target number two is that bear over there. You ought to be careful with him: he’s immune to magic. He has already passed initiation, so my gratitude will be proportionate to the number of times he dies. If he returns from the Academy as a level one player, that would be excellent. Any questions?
“You don’t dare sick your recruits on Paladins!” Grygz roared coming up to stand next to Sharda.
I have already dared, you atavism of the past,” Devir smiled murderously. “I need to train and develop my recruits, and why should Paladins be treated better than other classes? Besides, all my actions are justified: as a mentor I have the right to share my quests with recruits. It’s all within the rules of the Game. Or are you going to challenge my right to revenge?”
“Fight like a player!” Grygz continued, while Sharda stayed silent. “Give him time!” If you want to help your newbies develop, allow Yari to reach at least level three; then you can start your bullying. There is little honor in a first level player. If you are training new headhunters, prepare them for the fact that your prey can fight back.”
There was a pause. Devir looked at Grygz in contemplation with eloquently raised eyebrows. Sharda kept looking at the mage glumly, without the slightest attempt to come to my defense, while the surrounding players watched with interest the free drama with a potential bloody outcome. Paladins against mages, and the mages were within their rights. Somehow I didn’t like being the main character of this drama.
“Mentor, are those the weaklings someone is going to try and turn into headhunters?” A female voice asked, and another participant joined the drama. The Paladin orc at whom I had stared insolently for a long time turned out to be a female. I would have never guessed: the armor concealed all the sexual attributes, provided that race had them altogether. The femorc contemptuously looked Devir’s companions over and snorted. The young mages returned the look but did not even move a muscle. Devir had trained his recruits even better than Sharda.
“Target number three — femorc Logir,” Devir recovered and continued with the task description. “It’s hard to admit it, but that relic is correct: you need to be tested in battle. You have been coddled for too long. You are allowed to attack all three after they complete training with five teachers. Until then do not interfere with them; moreover, you ought to help them. I will not be very pleased if they croak before the specified time.”
“You have no right to attack Logir,” Grygz grinned bloodthirstily. Now I failed to understand anything at all, because Grygz seemed pleased. There is a hunt announced against his student, and his mentor does not move an eyebrow; moreover, he radiates extreme pleasure and joy! Is he actually crazy?
“Why would Zagransh need good-for-nothings, who are unable to overcome hardships?” Devir smiled no less murderously. “It will be a pleasure to prove that she is not worthy the name of ‘player’”.
I will wipe you out, mage!” Logir shouted out defiantly, but to me it had too much flourish. Too elaborate. “But fir
st I will wipe out those puppies of yours! Two mages… Phhh!”
“Two?” Devir frowned, then smiled. “Red-skinned wonder, from what kind of hole did you crawl out? “All the six hundred and three mage recruits will be hunting you, not just this pair. If you return from the Academy with bonus levels — good, you will have demonstrated that you have prospects as players. If you return at level one … better not to. As for you:” Devir gave me a head-to-toe look — “aren’t you an unlucky lad! If you had chosen mages, it could have all played out differently.”
Devir turned around and quickly strode off.
“I’ll be right back,” the femorc dropped, rushing after the mages.
“You shouldn’t've gotten into this,” Sharda said, looking at Logir’s retreating back. Devir is dangerous.
“I know,” Grygz replied. “Logir wants to become a headhunter; Devir is the only mentor who agreed to train her. We have been discussing that with him for a while and he finally agreed. Logir will watch over Yaropolk so that he will not do something stupid and then would die when the mages need it. These are our arrangements. In addition I will be able to see how well she learned.
“So you are in cahoots with him?” Sharda frowned. “That’s why; I thought it looked odd, because where would the old orc find the guts for that? I thought you were looking for an official excuse for a battle.”
“Sharda, it’s no secret to anyone that Yari is already a goner. If he's not wiped out in the Academy, after the ceremony Devir will not let him leave the Sanctuary. I have a chance to pull my daughter out of Zagransh and I am definitely going to use it. If this requires sacrificing a Paladin... oh well, that’s his destiny.
“So this show with the five teachers…” Sharda started to say, but Grygz interrupted him:
“That was Devir’s wish. He needs fighters, not baby-killers. They will help Yari to get to level 3 or 4 and then will start killing him.”
The Beginning (Dark Paladin Book #1) LitRPG Series Page 7
