Table of Contents
Join Us for More Fun! Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
The Wraith of Valenastrious
-World of Samar: Book I-
A “LitRPG Freaks” work by Jared Mandani
The Wraith of Valenastrious
Copyright © 2017 LitRPG Freaks
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
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Chapter 1
L.A. 2052
Lights flashed in the darkened room from the screen at the front covering it from edge to edge, corner to corner. Men yelled at the monitor, cheering on their team or jeering at the others.
Tonight was the final event for the MMORPG team PVP tournament, and the air was thick with the hungry prayers of those who had bet their hard-earned money on the competitors. Beer and liquor were on everyone’s breath. Most were there with friends to watch the outcome live in a warehouse out by the water.
Not him.
He was always alone these days, always alone.
Harrison Harper sat hunched in a corner booth, glaring furiously at the back of their heads. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the whiskey bottle, and he sneered at the screen and the player’s orc tank he had put his cash on. Tonight he was all in and, from the way the tournament headed, he was going to be all out and screwed by the end of the night… and not in a good way.
He slammed the bottle down when his player, supposedly the best in the city, lost half his health in one fatal blow. Another would kill him and knock him out of the game if he kept messing up.
“Come on, you rotten bastard!” Harrison screamed as he leapt to his feet.
The game was the same one Harrison played so many years before. He used to be good enough he was paid by sponsors to play, paid enough he didn’t have to keep down a real job. He traveled, competed, and reveled in the fans he created. He used to be a happily married man.
Absently he rubbed at his empty left ring finger as he continued to watch his player attempt to recover on the screen.
Used to be were his favorite words lately.
“Looks like your boy might be losing tonight,” another guy said, cackling as he shouldered up to Harrison. “Keep telling you to ask me before you place your bets, man.”
“What are you doing here, Rodney?” Harrison shifted his grip on his bottle, just in case he needed to use it for something other than drinking.
“Just checking on you is all, you know how it is with the boss,” Rodney said casually.
“Yeah and I still have time.”
The crowd erupted in yells and curses when Harrison’s player took another devastating blow. The PVP tournament was supposed to be where this guy’s skills shown through, but his tank was getting his butt kicked by a freaking druid. Harrison would’ve wiped the arena with the guy by now.
“You have until tonight you mean,” Rodney said. “He’s not going to let you slide again, man.”
“I’m not sliding. I paid what I could from the winnings,” Harrison argued.
“Not even close to being enough. He’s tired of waiting. Sent me to ensure that you don’t disappear on us again. And maybe to drive the point home that no one makes Paris Benson wait for his money.”
Harrison ground his teeth and turned his lanky body to glare at Rodney full on—not that he personally was very intimidating. Rodney was over six feet tall with at least a hundred pounds of muscle beneath his leather jacket and jeans. Harrison rose to his full height. He gulped from the whiskey bottle, smacking his lips loudly when he lowered it again, and he wiped his mouth on his arm.
“I’ll get him the money,” he swore.
“You said that before. He’s not buying it anymore. Hope you didn’t put it all on this man.”
Harrison opened his mouth to reply that he did in fact do just that. That this man was supposed to be the best in the underground gaming world, where people made millions if they played it right. Because that had been his goal all along: make a decent chunk of change, pay off his debt from the last year and move on with his life. Maybe even find his wife and attempt to see his five-year-old son again.
“And Anthrax has been obliterated!” the man announcing the tournament yelled into his mic. “I’ve never seen such a hit! Anthrax is dead and his team has been eliminated!”
Harrison shot a glance to Rodney. “Well, looks like I’ll be—”
Harrison swung the bottle around and clocked Rodney in the face cutting off his words.
The man grunted and staggered backwards.
Harrison didn’t wait around to see if the goon went down before sprinting through the crowd gathered in the huge warehouse. He had no more money, not after losing this ultimate bet, but it didn’t matter. He’d get out of the city and the bastards would never find him again.
Fear consumed him as he reached the doors and burst out, only to be surrounded by ten more of the loan shark’s men. Harrison cursed, skidding to a stop, eyes searching frantically for a way out.
The door slammed open behind him and Rodney appeared, face bloody, and spitting in rage. “Grab him!”
Harrison didn’t even fight when two guys bigger than Rodney grabbed his upper arms and held him fast. This was how it was going to end. Here, in the dirty parking lot of some warehouse in the middle of the darkest part of the city.
How he wished he could see stars like those he used to see when he was younger out in the country, but the light pollution always blocked them out. If only he was drunker, then maybe he wouldn’t feel the pain of whatever was going to happen next.
“Just get it over with,” he sputtered, voice shaking with terror he no longer cared about hiding.
Rodney smirked as he drew out a knife from his back. “Not going to kill you, Harrison. Then we’d never get our money. Just need to remind you of the cost of doing business with Paris.”
Harrison gulped and attempted to pull away, but the two men held him in iron like grips. One kicked his right leg and he sank to his knees on the asphalt, wincing in pain. Rodney ran his thumb along the blade of the knife drawing small droplets of blood. He leered at Harrison as he licked them off. How had Harrison landed his ass in this situation? By morning, he would be unrecognizable. He knew what Rodney did to people who couldn’t pay, and yet he’d gone to Paris anyway to borrow money. What a moron he had been!
“Think we’ll take it nice and slow,” Rodney muttered as he stepped closer. “You know how we do things, Harrison. You’ve always known and still you refused to pay him back.”
“I tried,” he argued weakly, yanking on his arms as his pounding pulse drowned out all other sound around him. He leaned back, but the blade pressed suddenly against his cheek, the metal cold as ice on his skin.
“Not hard enough. Ho
ld him still, boys, this is going to get messy.”
“Enough, Rodney,” another voice rose, and Rodney stilled with the blade resting on his victim’s cheekbone. Harrison sagged in relief, fighting back the tears that wanted to escape his drunken self. The sharp steel drew back, and Harrison fell limp in the hold of the two men keeping him up. “Is that any way to treat our best client?”
“Best client? He lost all the money again,” Rodney snapped. “He owes us!”
“I know, after all I run this tournament, remember?”
Harrison’s brows drew together, and anger joined his fear. “Wait, you…you’re the one who runs this place?”
“I run the underground in this city, Harrison. You should know that by now. That includes these gaming tournaments the city would love to shut down.” Booted steps sounded behind him and Harrison spotted the man’s long, black trench coat out of the corner of his eye before he walked in front of him. “Oh Harrison, down on your luck yet again.”
Sniffing hard, Harrison looked up and met the piercing blue eyes of Paris Benson. He flinched away from the man’s curling lips as he motioned for the men to let Harrison go and even offered him a hand.
“Why are you doing this?” Harrison asked, not moving.
Paris’ hand fell as he sighed. “Harrison, walk with me would you?” When Harrison still didn’t move, the smile turned into a sneer. “Unless you’d like to remain in Rodney’s company for the remainder of the night.”
Harrison was on his feet without the aid of Paris and backed away from the knife that came so close to spilling his blood. “I don’t understand. What exactly do you want to talk about?”
Paris motioned for them to walk, and he waved for the others to stay behind. “I realize you’ve been down lately, struggling to make enough money to simply buy your booze, let alone pay me back. So I’ve decided out of the goodness of my heart to help you and, at the same time, you’ll be doing more than just paying me back what you owe.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You owe me over two hundred thousand dollars, Harrison,” Paris said casually as they came to a stop out by the water’s edge. “That is a tidy sum of money.”
“I know and I tried tonight, but—”
“But you failed yet again, I know,” Paris said, and he rested a hand on Harrison’s shoulder as if to comfort him. The glint in his blue eyes was more of a shark circling his prey in the water than of a friend. Harrison fought the urge to pull back.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want my money back and I want it back in thirty days.”
Harrison’s stomach sank to his feet as he struggled to breathe. “Thirty…thirty days? Where the hell am I going to find that much money? I ain’t about to rob anybody for it!”
“I never said you had to rob someone,” Paris said, his laughter sharp like the edge of the knife that had just vacated Harrison’s cheek. “Oh no, my friend, I have a much better way for you to earn your keep.” He leaned in close and whispered, “How would you like to be a gamer again?”
Harrison stared at him in wide-eyed confusion. Was he that drunk he wasn’t hearing right? Going back to his old life was the only thing Harrison wanted, but he could never get there again. He knew that after a year spent finding what was at the bottom of the bottle every night. He was too far gone to save himself, but for Paris to offer such a chance to him…
No, his mind warned. He’s up to something, and whatever the hell it is your chances are better with the damn knife!
“Yes,” he replied quickly, shutting up his inner nagging voice.
Paris’ smile widened, and the man reached into his trench coat. “That is what I was hoping to hear. This game you will be playing however is not like the ones you’re used to.”
“What’s so different about it?”
“This one is a full dive virtual reality MMO,” he explained slowly. “First of its kind to be tested.”
“Tested? You mean it’s still in beta?”
Paris nodded and handed over the envelope he drew from his pocket. “This is the information on the game. Later today, there will be a car sent to pick you up from that dreadful apartment of yours which I believe you’re behind three months on your rent?’
Cheeks reddening, Harrison hung his head and took the envelope.
“You will get in the car and you will be my player for this beta testing. They are offering decent sums of money for successful players based on performances. There is every chance you will earn back what you owe me in thirty days.”
Harrison frowned as he pulled the papers free. “This says they’re putting me up for a full month at their facility,” he murmured. “And there was an entry fee of one thousand to be paid?”
“Paid in full just for you and to be included in the money you’ll be paying me back of course.”
The whiskey wearing off, Harrison racked his brain for any reason why Paris would do this for him. Nothing made sense and he shoved the envelope back. “I’m assuming there’s a catch and I’m not sure I want to do it.”
“I’m sorry, did I say you had a choice?”
Like a magician making doves or flowers appear out of thin air, Paris produced a pistol which he stuck under his debtor’s jaw. Harrison froze, his whole body trembling as he faced death for the second time tonight and feared he wouldn’t get so lucky this time.
“You will do this beta test for me and, at the end of each week, you will send me information on how it works. You may also have to do some…integrating of your own, some updates as you would call them.”
“I won’t have access to the servers,” Harrison whispered, almost too scared to open his mouth. “There’s no way they’ll let any beta testers get that close.”
“You’ll just have to figure something out. Get into the game and I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
“Why do you care so much? It’s just a damn game,” Harrison argued.
Paris patted him on the head then lowered the gun. “No, it’s more than just a game, my dear friend, always more than just a game. I suggest you get some sleep and enjoy whatever last drink you want. The next part of your great life starts tomorrow,” he mocked with a deep-throated laugh. “Don’t disappoint me again or a pistol or a knife will be the least of your worries.”
Harrison backed away with the envelope in hand. “How will you contact me?”
“Don’t worry about that. Get your ass there tomorrow, that’s the first step. Now, go away before I change my mind and have you repay me in blood.”
Harrison turned around and bolted through the warehouses. He didn’t stop running until he reached the rundown building he occupied and trudged down to the basement apartment he rented.
The single light flickered overhead as he pulled out the papers and read them with bleary eyes. They gave very little detail on the game itself, not even what it was called, but explained about the rest of the beta testing program. A full month of being fed three times a day, a bed to sleep in, a shower that actually worked, and no cockroaches for company. Despite being given this opportunity by a man who wanted to kill him, Harrison grinned. He followed the gaming world as much as he could these days and what they were doing with VR worlds was incredible. He knew they were testing full dive games, but never did he think he’d win the chance to be in one, let alone on the ground floor of the final stages of development.
Maybe, at the end of it all, he would earn enough money to pay off Paris and get back on his feet, find Anna and their son, William. To have them back in his arms was all he dreamt about every night. It usually ended with a nightmare of them leaving him forever. This time would be different, he would show her he could change, that he had changed.
And what about the catch, you idiot, he reminded himself. You’re going to get arrested. The second you insert a drive into that system, you know they’ll be on you. The security is going to be top notch and you my friend are no James Bond.
“No, but I won�
��t get arrested,” he answered the whispering doubts in his mind. “No this time, I’m going to come out on top.”
No booze for a month? You sure you’re ready for this?
Harrison glanced around his threadbare apartment and spotted the stash of whiskey on the counter. Hands shaking, he forced his feet to take him to the counter and dumped each one down the drain, tossing the empty bottles into the trashcan.
Each smashed bottle was just one more step in the right direction. He gripped the sink hard as regret filled him, but he shoved it back down. Gaming was his vice long before the booze. He’d be fine, he didn’t have a choice. Tomorrow was a new day and the first step in righting the wrongs he made. He only had to make it through a month. One month and then he’d be free of Paris and the damn chain around his neck.
***
“Why are you doing this?” Rodney asked.
Paris swirled the vodka in his glass before he shot it back and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Because I need someone on the inside of that game besides a bruiser like you. I need a man who knows these games and can advance quickly, show what he’s made of, and impress the creators. Once upon a time, Harrison was that man, and I feel he will be again, given the chance.”
“Unless he hits the booze the whole time. How do you know he’s even going to do what you ask?”
“Because, my dear man, to be in my position you have to be able to read people. Find who’s vulnerable, find who’s weak.” His lip lifted in disgust as he stared into his empty glass. “Harrison is both. And you are going to follow him into the game of course to ensure he does what he’s told.”
Rodney clapped his hands together and cackled. “Now that’s more like it.”
“You are not to let him see you unless he steps out of line,” Paris warned. “And be certain by the end of the month, he loses whatever money he’s earned. Harrison may come in handy later.”
“Benton, sir?”
He turned around and smiled brightly. “Ah, Anthrax, there you are.”
The Wraith of Valenastrious: A LitRPG Epic (World of Samar Book 1) Page 1
