Aether Gate Online:
The
Blade Guardian
A LITRPG Saga
By Darren Hultberg Jr
Copyright 2018 Darren Hultberg Jr
All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are completely fictitious.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or redistributed without proper permission from the author, Darren Hultberg Jr.
Edited by Celestian Rince
The story so far...
Adam Osiris couldn’t wait to dive into the hot, new VRMMORPG Aether Gate Online. Taking the class of Slayer and the name Zander Darkblade, Adam looked to forge a name for himself in the game... that is, until he found himself trapped with no way out.
After surviving a few near-death experiences, Zander stumbled upon Wesley, a game designer also stuck in the world of Aetheria. With his guidance and a few weapons to add to his repertoire, Zander set out on a mission to vanquish the game’s creator Lord Vazryn, an act that would likely set he and the other players free.
Zander met several companions during his trek across Aetheria and forged bonds with a pair of powerful familiars. He escaped a hive of mind flayers, survived a dragon raid and competed in a grand tournament (which he nearly won). Eventually, the Slayer came face to face with the Highlord himself, but found he was outmatched by the man and his ancient familiar.
Nearly succumbing to defeat, Zander bonded with a third sprite... a dragon familiar, giving him the edge that he needed to put Vazryn down for good. Zander grew very quickly in strength and brought honor to his guild, Ravenflight... Unfortunately, it was not enough to free him from this strange, new realm.
Meanwhile, Adam’s father David found himself unable to bare his son’s absence from earth any longer and chose to dive in to Aetheria after him.
The Party
Zander Darkblade: Human Slayer.
Sprites: Razyr, Kord, Salence
Hilda: Human Guardian
Sprite: Ivanellios
Helena: Human Warlock
Sprite: Doomswell
Brenton: Human Runecaster
Sprite: Rhegar
Taryn: Human Rogue
PART 1
JOURNEY TO RAVENHOLD
1
The Temple of Fangs
Year of Rebirth: 0072
A shower of sparks pelted my armored chest as my enemy’s blade smashed into my own. “Form up on me!” I shouted, before giving my opponent a forceful charge. Hilda rushed to my left, hoisting her aegis shield Corvus as she blocked an oncoming barrage of blades. To my right, Taryn rolled into position, fully concealed in black shinobi armor that he’d picked up on one of our recent outings. He drew a pair of blades from his belt as he rolled, then launched himself at a group of attackers approaching our flank.
We were trapped, surrounded on all sides by a group of elvish zealots with wild grey hair and a bestial look in their eyes. Each of them brandished a silvery curved scimitar that they appeared hell-bent on shoving through our chests. Damnit, these guys sure had a way of welcoming guests.
“Leave our sacred land!” one of them howled, before taking aim at me with a wild, foolhardy strike. His sword came in hard, but a quick deflection from my rapier, the familiar blade dragonedge, left the zealot exposed. I shifted my weight, then lunged forward with an attack of my own, plunging my other sword nevermore into the mad elf’s chest and depleting the remainder of his HP.
“I thought you said this was going to be easy,” Taryn growled as he dodged one of the elf’s errant blade attacks. Without giving his attacker time to respond, he drew another knife from his belt and flung it at the zealot. The words “critical hit” appeared in his vision as the knife found a home in the elf’s right eye.
“C’mon, this isn’t that bad,” I responded, landing a slick double strike on another zealot. The quest was a simple one... or, at least it was supposed to be. Follow the path along the river into the wiltwood forest until we come across a sunken temple. Bust in, locate the artifact and bring it back to town. Simple. Or so I thought...
“Damnit, Zan, how many of these guys are there?” Hilda spat as she shrugged off an attack with her shield, then battered the elf with crushing blow. Her mace slammed into the zealot’s shoulder, cracking bone and leaving the elf’s arm dangling there useless and deformed. The elf shrieked and began to flee, his health bar heavily depleted.
“Too many,” I grunted, clashing with another curved blade. “Brenton! How’re you coming with that damn door?!” Just a few feet away, our resident runecaster, Brenton, crouched at the base of the partially submerged temple. His hands worked furiously as he tried to break the magickal seals on the temple door that barred us entry.
“I assure you I’m moving as fast as I can,” he replied as his familiar, a white-haired lion-like creature named Rhegar, adjusted the spectacles on his face for him. “Though this might go a bit smoother if Helena didn’t keep stepping on my hands.”
“Oh, shove it,” the warlock growled, dancing around the runecaster as she flung a shadowblast at an approaching zealot.
I should’ve known this was a trap. Things had gone so smoothly locating the temple, especially for a supposed high-level quest. We found the structure resting at the swampy center of the forest, half-submerged in its moss-covered glory... seemingly unguarded. Of course, when Brenton went to work on breaking the runic seals, this strange group of elves showed up and, well… now here we were, desperately defending Brenton from a horde of white-haired elvish maniacs as he tried to break open the door.
Frustration was evident in the eyes of the zealots as they repeatedly failed to break through our defenses. Despite their advantage in numbers, the zealots couldn’t match our superior power level nor our battle coordination. Instead, they were left to charge recklessly into our defenses, only to meet a blade to the chest or a mace to the skull.
“Brothers!” one of the elves cried. “These heretics are going to desecrate our temple! We must summon.... the great fang!”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Hilda said as she smashed a zealot into the ground with her shield. “Ivan, you have any idea what they’re talking about?”
Hilda’s familiar, Ivanellios, soared over the group, circling us before diving into the fray and unleashing a vicious assault on one of the elves with his talons. “If I recall, my lady guardian, the great fang is some sort of ceremonial title given to the strongest warrior of the White Fang Clan.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Brenton, you almost got that thing cracked?”
“Just a few more seconds,” he replied before etching another rune into the stone door.
“Uh, guys,” Taryn said with a tremor in his voice. “I think it’s here.”
I turned my gaze to Taryn’s direction, where the elves had mostly backed off. The group began to split, making a passage directly towards the five of us… It was then that I saw it.
Making its way towards us was an elf larger than I’d ever seen. He towered over the others, his body wrapped in layers of muscle that appeared chiseled from stone. His legs were thick like tree trunks. Battle scars adorned his naked body, old wounds that he’d earned at the hands of his fallen enemies.
Rhynos the Great Fang
Elite Boss
Lvl 35 Lycanthrope
Dammit all, this one was far stronger than the others. I glanced over to the drake who sat perched atop my shoulder, a creature whose battlebond had saved me more times than I could count. Razyr, my first familiar. “Get ready, buddy,” I said, briefly meeting his gaze. Razyr gave me a growl of assurance, and I turned to meet Great Fang head on.
The massive elf met my hard stare with one of his own. Then, in an a
ct of defiance, he let out a piercing, otherworldly howl. Suddenly, the white hair atop his head began to sprout from his forearms and chest. His fingers began to morph, taking the form of sharp points and his face elongated, forming into a snout filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. No longer was this creature just some muscle-bound elf. No, approaching now was a massive half-wolf behemoth!
Now things were getting interesting.
I threw my slayer mark on Great Fang as he charged in, giving my attacks a slight edge over the creature. The beast descended on me, slashing away with his mighty claws. It was a powerful strike, an attack that likely would’ve shaved away a good portion of my health bar... if it landed.
Using the power of my frog familiar, Kord, I activated empowered leap and sprung into the air above the mighty Great Fang. As I descended, I used lunging strike to propel myself downward and drove nevermore directly into the creature’s shoulder. -62 HP
The beast lurched forward in pain, doing his damnedest to buck me off. Instead, I used the creature’s forward momentum against him, grasping onto the hilt of my impaled blade as I swung my body over his shoulder and drove a knee into his ugly snout.
Great Fang roared in anger as he staggered back in pain, taking my obsidian sword with it. Behind I could hear footsteps fast approaching, so I reflexively dropped to a knee. Suddenly Taryn leapt onto my back, using it as a springboard to launch himself at the burly werewolf. I watched in awe as the nimble rogue began to rotate as he soared through the air.
Spiraling Strike
The rogue performs a spinning aerial attack, using his blades to slice through his opponent continuously until his rotation ends.
Taryn carved up Great Fang’s chest as he spun his blades into the beast, sending chunks of bloody fur in either direction.
-24 HP
-17 HP
-28 HP
Once the rogue’s rotation slowed he dropped to his feet, sizing the creature up for a follow-up strike.
Great Fang wasn’t having any of that.
The werewolf lashed out, slashing Taryn across his chest and sending the rogue crashing to the ground in pain. The rogue’s health reticle began to blink a sickly yellow as he was overcome by some sort of strange new affliction.
“I’m coming, Taryn!” I yelled, charging in behind the rogue. The on-looking zealots began to intercept, but a shieldmaster’s challenge from Hilda grabbed their attention.
Razyr leapt into the air before forming into a ball of light, sending raw, powerful Aether coursing through my veins. I hoisted dragonedge into the air with both hands as the blade began to glow with bright azure energy.
With a mighty swing, I cleaved Great Fang’s neck, separating his head from his shoulders. Seconds later, experience points showered the group like rainfall.
><><
The sun was beginning its descent through the orange-colored sky by the time we finally exited the sunken temple. Brenton wore a wide grin on his face as he hoisted our prize on his shoulder, a large ceramic urn molded into the shape of a strange pot-bellied lycan. At our feet were the scattered bodies of at least a dozen white fang zealots. Thankfully, the rest had fled after I had slain their oh so mighty leader.
This life of adventure had become the norm as of late… dungeon diving and monster hunting. Things weren’t supposed to be this way… I knew they weren’t. After I defeated Vazryn, we were supposed to be set free, to be given our lives back on Earth. But apparently, things were not that simple. It would take some time for Wesley to crack the code… or so we were told, time for him to undo the lock that held our souls trapped in Aether Gate Online (AGO), time to find us a way back home.
And so, we went on living, losing just a tiny bit of our old selves with each passing day. Memories fleeting… thoughts that seemed to slide through our cerebral fingertips the harder we tried to grasp on… Sure, we could’ve settled down in Karrihdan and waited this thing out, maybe even scribed some of our memories, so we wouldn’t forget... but something was compelling us to do otherwise, an unnatural, insatiable thirst for adventure that we just couldn’t seem to quench.
We arrived back in Riverwood the following afternoon, a small riverside village southeast of Karrihdan. There, the reward for our quest awaited.
“You’ve returned! a burly red-bearded dwarf shouted as he spotted us approaching on the horizon. “Thank the gods!” He began waving us in his direction, unable to hide the excitement in his movements. “Hurry now, come in!” the burly little man said, leading us into his humble abode. His name was Brunely, the owner of the local tavern “Sea Hag’s Haven”. He was also a quest giver and had offered a pretty penny to anyone willing to retrieve this ugly urn from the Temple of the Fang. His eyes went wide as we handed him over the artifact, ogling it as if he’d just laid eyes on his first child.
Brunely guided us into his quaint little tavern, leading us past the rustic-looking bar and into the kitchen… which happened to double as a storage room. He was in such a rush that he nearly knocked over one of the stocky dwarvish barmaids carrying a platter full of drinks.
After reaching the backroom, he immediately trudged over to a large chest and began fiddling with a series of locks attached to the outside. Eventually, he opened it and handed over a rather hefty leather sack.
Quest Completed
“Fangs in the Forest”
+1000 exp.
100 gold pieces obtained
I nodded my head in satisfaction… not a bad haul at all. Another notification popped up in my vision.
Congratulations!
You have reached level 30
+1 Skill point acquired
+2 Attribute points acquired
The others seemed pleased with the reward as well, though Brenton wore a quizzical expression on his face. “If I may ask…” he said, adjusting his spectacles, “what exactly do you plan on doing with that urn?”
The dwarf gave Brenton a toothy grin before setting the urn on a nearby table. Then, to everyone’s utter surprise, he picked up a mallet and smashed the top of the artifact.
“What the hell are you doing, you hairy little bastard?!” Helena screeched. “We nearly died getting that thing for you!”
Brunely let out a hearty laugh. “And yer appreciated greatly,” he replied. “But what I really want is inside the urn.” The dwarf hoisted the artifact into the air and carried it over to a large bubbling cauldron. There, he tipped the urn over and poured out its contents into the concoction, revealing a dark, aromatic liquid. “Fangbane,” he said, grinning as the cauldron began to bubble. “Best seasoning in Aetheria! I reckon this one’s been fermenting in that temple fer a hundred years, at least.”
“A… seasoning…” Helena muttered, completely dumbfounded. Her familiar, Doomswell, began to laugh so hard that he nearly fell off her shoulder.
“I’d really like to try a bit of that… what is it? Soup?” Brenton said, taking a whiff of the massive pot.
The dwarf nodded with a smile as he gave the runecaster a stiff pat on the shoulder. “Of, course lad.”
As we began to gather ourselves the door to the kitchen swung open. Standing there was the dwarvish barmaid, a perplexed look on her face. “Zander Darkblade?” she said in a surprisingly soft voice, her eyes scanning the group for a reaction.
“That’s me,” I said, stepping forward. “What is it?”
“You have a visitor,” she replied. “A man in black… he said his name was Morose.”
2
Dark Visitor
My communication with the other ravens had been sparse since I turned Vazryn’s body over to the Highraven. In fact, it had been at least a week since I reported back with my whereabouts to the shadowy guild. And yet, sitting there at one of the tavern’s round wooden tables was Morose, lieutenant of the ravenflight guild.
The man appeared to have been just as busy as I was these past few weeks, with an apparent growth in strength that just didn’t seem fathomable. He still sported that same massiv
e bastard sword strapped to his back and that crimson sash lined with rows of daggers, but his armor had clearly seen some upgrades. Jet-black plate mail fashioned with dozens of sharp spikes, many of them painted red at the tip, covered his limbs and torso. Adorned on his helm was a pair of twisted horns as well. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve surely guessed that the man was demonic!
Morose rose from his seat as I approached, carefully removing his helm and placing it at the center of the table. Long black hair fell to his shoulders, clinging to the sides of his angular face. I tensed as his gaze fell upon me... no matter what the situation, the assassin’s expression always seemed to rest in a state of perpetual anger.
“Darkblade,” he said, giving me a quick nod. “It looks like you’ve grown since I last saw you.”
“As have you,” I replied. The assassin had already topped level 40 and likely wasn’t planning on slowing down. He was truly one of the most sophisticated NPCs that I’d encountered since the launch of AGO.
No... I told myself. Not NPCs... these were living beings... creatures born of a planet whose life had been renewed through the Aether...
“The Highraven would like you to report back to Ravenhold,” Morose said, drawing me from my thoughts.
Hilda immediately perked up at the Highraven’s mention. “He’s found a way back home?”
Morose turned to her and gave the slightest of nods. Suddenly, she turned and wrapped me in a warm embrace. “Zan! We’re going to go home!”
I reciprocated her affection, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, though my eyes remained locked on the assassin. The man’s cold, dark eyes met my own once more with a look devoid of emotion. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something off-putting about Morose... something I just couldn’t quite describe. Still, if Wesley held the man in such high regard, then I at least owed him a bit of trust.
The Blade Guardian Page 1
