Aeon Chronicles Online_Book 1_Devil's Deal

by Dante Sakurai

  Though most importantly, they seemed to be holding thanks to the miniature Shield Generators and Batteries—artifacts found in a raid a while back. And the king's group portal should be hitting within six or seven minutes. As long as the spawn point holds.

  Jonathan closed the chat and blasted off into the lair at top-speed, every ounce of mana in his body feeding his Light-Shard.

  Sparse rubies decorated the cave system, glinting with mana. The mouth funneled into a chamber and the second passed through a shield-like threshold barrier, a Red Dragon roared from the right and took flight.

  Jonathan swerved left and dodged a stream of fire that clipped the edge of his shoulder.

  You have taken 2350 fire damage

  Hot damn. He bit down the pain as another dragon by a stream of magma took notice, joining the chase. Even at the sonic speed of his Light Shard and the chamber passing around him in a brownish-gray blur, the dragons kept up with every maneuver and singed the back of his armor every two seconds. His heart banged against his armor, adrenaline pumping, flames licking him as he aggro’d the whole room.

  Five Red Dragons took chase, deafening shrieks rattling his full-helm. What the hell did he get himself into?

  His health-bar hit 50% and second to third-degree burns spread across his back under his red-hot armor. He was going to be turned into a cooked boy.

  The funnel into the next room of the dungeon took the form of the lava stream falling down a wide hole.

  Jonathan whipped his mount and took a perpendicular dive while rapidly casting Lesser Holy Light on himself. His stinging burns cooled and new skin regrew like magic. It was magic! Man, he loved this game so much.

  A tidal wave of heat tailed him, the dragons spewing their fire down the lavafall.

  The gaping maw and fearsome teeth of an enormous, spiked Red Dragon greeted him in the low light of magma pools. Blue-white flames erupted from behind that serpentine tongue.

  Jonathan hurled the two words for Divine Mark and coated his skin with a flowery mana pattern. Just in time—as a cone of dragonfire engulfed him. His health bar blinked to 1.

  A scream tore up his throat in the burning torture.

  But he had to move!

  Speeding over the dragon’s spiked head and spamming heals like a novice healer, Jonathan zigzagged left, right, up, and down to avoid the unending flamethrower.

  Then doubled back under its exposed belly.

  And back over its head while absorbing the sight of the chamber and searching for a corridor or adjoining room. Or was this the dungeon boss? He flicked an examine at its snout, avoiding those eyes at all cost.

  Elder Red Dragon Brute: Level 347

  Health: 2,300,150

  Mana: 155,100

  Stamina: 900,050

  Nope—not the boss. Bosses usually didn’t attack on sight anyway. They were calmer and more collected ever since alpha. Neutral bosses or bosses with similar mana to yourself could be negotiated with, like Zaine and LeMort. They’d somehow worked out an agreement.

  Jonathan kept circling the dragon, ducking under lightning-quick swipes and tackles.

  Its wings unfurled and it took off under a current of fiery, windy mana. Its maw glowed red. A special attack.

  Banking right in a tumble, Jonathan dodged a several-meter wide molten bolt steaming with white miasma.

  Divine damage. A light-aligned damage modifier that paralyzed on-hit and ignored personal shields. The light-leaning dragons were said to be of divine origin. Guess this proved it. Jonathan patted himself on his seared back for the world-first achievement.

  And thank the AI gods that he’d been smart enough to roll, then dart into a glowing opening at the far-left. He’d pulled the second dragon brute at the opposite side of the mile-wide chamber but it’d noticed far too slowly. The brutes weren’t too smart.

  And then he was soaring above a sea of magma that stretched on for four or five miles. An island dotted with glowing, crystal-like orbs floated at the center of the lake.

  A humongous dragon larger than three brutes nested, curled at the center of hundreds of those orbs. Jonathan neared, slowing to a crawl, preparing to turn if it took flight. He dared to Examine. Most bosses could detect when they were being examined.

  [T7 World Boss] Red Dragon Matriarch: Level 379

  Health: 5,100,020

  Mana: 3,00,100

  Stamina: 3,760,010

  Only slightly stronger than the Elite Black Dragon that had attacked the Elves’ city back in alpha. Understandably so. The various dragon species weren’t equal in power. The dark-leaning dragons were fewer in numbers but stronger. Red Dragons were on the weaker end of the scale, though their character levels were wildly inflated as usual.

  The Matriarch’s head turned to him and her blazing eyes dug into his skull. Her mind brushed against his and checked his intent, his identity, his greatest shame. Images of his life flashed across his vision like a hyper-speed, blurred montage. He caught a few memories which she stopped on for a fraction of a second each. Her ancient mind was far superior to his own. The invasion was gentle and kind, unlike the elder that had mind-raped him.

  Let the dragon judge. He nothing left to hide anymore. He bared his shame on his sleeve for it to judge. The hyper-intelligent AI controller will decide if he’s worthy of redemption or not.

  Her forced-interrogation ended without a communication of feelings. Jonathan found himself back on his Light Shard, floating toward the island.

  Her jaw parted and the air broiled as she breathed.

  Then a beam of red light froze Jonathan. His body and mount wouldn’t respond to his mental commands, stuck in place, floating down to the island. A tractor beam like those from science fiction.

  The rocky, lava-ridden island rose to his feet. He studied the nearest crystal sphere—which wasn’t a sphere but an egg-shaped crystal. No, not a crystal… A real egg. An unhatched Red Dragon slumbered in a tight curl within the semi-opaque crystal. There were hundreds of them, varying in size and shape. The biggest was the size of a single-bedroom house, holding a baby brute.

  At the corner of his eye, he noticed more entrances to the Matriarch’s island. This was the center of a web of chambers. There had to be more lairs dotted throughout Greenwood Spine further north.

  His Light Shard scraped onto the volcanic rock in front of the Matriarch’s folded front-legs. Her head lowered, those eyes larger than his body studies Jonathan without a blink.

  Without moving that scaled, spiked jaw, the Matriarch spoke like any other World Boss, her voice surprisingly young, layered with a slight echo and sounded from all directions. “Congratulations, little one, you have made it… why have you come here?” Her tone wasn’t judgmental or cruel or snide.

  But the question was odd. Jonathan’s brow rose behind his helmet. “Didn’t you just search my mind?”

  “Yes…” Her giant head tilted. A human expression. “But why did you come here?”

  Jonathan’s lips puckered as he understood. She was testing him to see if he knew himself as well as she did—and he guessed she knew better than he.

  So why did he come here?

  The answer was clear. “To face the judgment of my failures and redeem myself by securing an alliance with the Red Dragons.” This was kind of like a job interview. He’d been through hundreds since last year’s graduation.

  Her mouth parted and she let out a low growl, heat buffering Jonathan’s armor. Her nose sniffed. “You already know the answer to the former.” Her tone was snappier.

  Jonathan did know—and for a decade too. “I am not. I failed my duty and those around me paid the price for it.”

  “And yet you think I shall reward you for it.” Her jaws snapped shut with a crack. “How naive.”

  He straightened his back. “Which is why I’m here. To redeem myself at any cost so I can help my friends and the people of this world. I seek an alliance with the Red Dragons as a representative of the Draconian Kingdom. I ask for a dial
og of negotiation.” All true. Every word. He laid it all bare, hoping his darnedest that this was the correct way to complete the quest. He saw no other route.

  The Matriarch nodded, signaling the start of the negotiation. Jonathan thought she would’ve been more difficult.

  Seconds ticked away at the top-right of Jonathan’s interface. He swallowed a gulp, not finding anything he could negotiate with. What did the Red Dragons want from him? The Matriarch was listening to every thought. He could feel her presence growing a tiny bit impatient.

  Jonathan had nothing to offer and the two quests—

  Idiot!

  Two quests. “You wish the return of the lost whelp LeMort kidnapped? You know it’s still alive?” And he hadn’t even come with it. Maybe that was the key to this quest’s success. Separate quests were often-times linked with each other.

  “Yes, little one. We would like him returned.”

  Now, that was interesting. As Lance and Dorian had said, the dragons never cared when random whelps got themselves killed by leaving the mountains. Not even the light-biased yellow and white dragons. They never searched for lost whelps.

  He had to ask, “Why do you care about that one whelp so much? Is it special?” Plus, he had two quests giving two separate rewards. “And why do you care about happened to Dorian’s brother?” The AI controller had to have generated a logical reason. It couldn’t just be as simple as a dragon boss offering him a path to redemption because it felt sorry for him.

  Maybe she was impressed that he survived the gauntlet through the lair? But any high-level player with a flying mount could fly through.

  The Matriarch sighed a long, hot breath after continued eye contact. “I will make this easy for you, little one.” Her front-leg unfurled, crimson scales scratching rock, and her hand-like paw wrapped around one of the eggs. She gently set it in front of Jonathan. It was as tall as him. “What do you see here?”

  “A dragon egg.”

  “Is it an egg?” Her tone was musical like she was playing a game with him. A riddle.

  But it was indeed an egg. “Yes. I see the baby whelp inside.” Like the one LeMort had kidnapped.

  “You are wrong, little one.”

  “What is it?” he asked like reading off a bad movie script.

  “It is a form of what your kind calls a resurrection stone. When my sons and daughters die, their souls return to this eternal roost and they are reborn with young bodies. This eternal cycle is the price we pay for our divine destinies.” She huffed a short puff of fire through those slit nostrils. “ I am not so uncaring of my children as you believe, little one.”

  Oh. Jonathan felt a drop of sweat slide down his cheek. “And the whelp LeMort took hasn’t returned?”

  “No.” The Matriarch sniffed and her folded wings shifted. “Though its corpse was found, I sense its soul out there, suffering in pitch darkness in a crippled form. Suffering in the hands of a warped soul you call LeMort.”

  Damn. He and the guild had failed the neutral Red Dragons too, letting LeMort get away with one of their souls. Though they hadn’t known of this, it still counted as a failure. They vowed to protect the kingdom’s inhabitants from all crime and evil when they started the guild and registered with the king’s court. The vow was a requirement to secure land and resources and other aid to build their city of player housing. It would’ve taken decades otherwise.

  Jonathan breathed and balled a fist. “Then I vow to return him to you. I promise.”

  If a dragon could make a sad expression, the Matriarch just did. She said in a sad tone, “The future is set, little one, my divine power unveiled glimpses what is to come before my eyes. My lost child shall not be returned to me. He has and will fall deeper into darkness.”

  “What?” Jonathan staggered back a step. His book clinked on a stone. “How will I complete my quest then? Does this mean I failed both?”

  “You can’t. It’s too late.” The Matriarch’s head further sank, her eyelids drooping. “Perhaps if your kind was quicker by a month or two.”

  The familiar sound-effect of a failed quests rang in his ears. Cold shame washed through his flesh as the horrid dialog decorated with cracks appeared at the center of his view.

  Quest Failed: Baby Red Whelp

  You were simply too late to notice and act. Unfortunate, really.

  Holy hell. What did this mean? A thousand thoughts churned in his skull. A dragon falling into darkness? LeMort with a dragon familiar? Could the dragon whelp raise young? How much more powerful was she going to become? He just fucking failed everyone again!

  Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

  A panic attack encroached on Jonathan’s body as his chatbox vibrated with personal messages.

  Lance Rider: Just got the alert for the whelp quest. That sucks. Any updates on your special quest?

  Dorian Ambersworn: Damn. Thanks for trying though. How’s the other one coming along?

  Gregorovitch Raynare: That’s sad. So are you with the dragons’ leader? I don’t see your status as dead.

  “But,” the Matriarch said, pulling on the mental connection, “You only failed your first mission.”

  That’s right! He only received one quest failed dialog. Jonathan ate a tremendous breath of hot air. There was still hope. “What do I have to do? Why do you care about Max’s brother?”

  She suddenly stood, faster than possible, and brought her front talons together, a few meters apart. She flared with fiery mana and a flame burst into life between her claws. “The scales of light and dark are shifting and it is in my duty to offer you this. Step into the flame and face your judgment. If your heart is righteous and your intent unselfish, you shall find a path to redemption.”

  “And if I’m not?” he dared to ask.

  “You will find out.” She placed the flame in front of him, its blazing heat roasting his armor.

  Lance Rider: Are you alright? What’s happening?

  Pulse thumping up his neck, Jonathan let many drops of sweat fall down his chin as he made his decision: he was no coward. He will risk baring any sacrifice or curse in his duty to protect the innocent on this content. In his quest to correct his past wrong. If the flame judged him unworthy, then so be it. He already failed two years ago anyway.

  He flicked Lance a message and jumped head-first into the fire.

  Jon Bladestrider: I don’t know but we will see.

  Lance Rider: What?

  The white-hot flame consumed his body in a storm of agony, every nerve screaming for him to jump out. His health bar emptied, his flesh and bones disintegrating to ash. His vision faded to white, not black.

  Then the thousand-tonne force of judgment pulled a single memory out of the depths of his mind. His greatest shame replayed in front of him, Max’s murder repeating over and over and over till Jonathan was numb and sick. Again, the last and only thing he saw was Rowan’s crazed face mocking him with an unending laugh.

  This was now his eternal in-game prison. He'd been judged unworthy of redemption. He should've stopped years of bullying and a murder but didn't. There was no redemption. Simple as that.

  Chapter 39

  Sound Effects

  The number of projectiles flying to and from the four-hundred-meter square was a farcical sight. Glowing arrows and magical spells of all colors and shapes traded back and forth while Rowan’s blizzard and trebuchet mortars broke through another shield. The individual shards of tainted ice dealt little damage, but tanking the assault of thousands added up—over half a million damage-per-second. Eight generators remained, both batteries depleted.

  The noise was excruciating, like a music concert that went crazy on the volume and was trying to deafen the audience. And yet Dorian the piggy-brother, if that was his real name, still yelled in Rowan’s direction between every other skill cast. Could he not hear all this noise?

  Four mortars crashed into their shields at the same time and amped up the decibels to a head-splitting volume.

  Rowan glance
d at Gabrielle and Ambiguous’ shimmers—both fine. Ambiguous fired a cascade of low or mid-level arcane and dark bolts. Gabrielle was a symphony conductor of spells, her wand twirling in an incredible tempo. Zaine didn’t seem to be affected either—but he was an AI character.

  Those pillars of light—Consecration—hammered down among packs of Imps with ridiculous gong-like sound effects. The noise reached his tolerance limit. Rowan’s wand dropped as he cupped his ears. He focused on the chatbox.

  Rowan Black (Raid Chat): Sound too loud!