Drake's LitRPG Megabundle (7 Books)

by Adam Drake

  “Damn,” he said. It felt odd reading about your own death. At least the messages didn't say it was Anika that had killed him.

  The Island Guardian. The quest he'd been given said he needed to kill it to gain access to the mainland.

  The thought of facing that thing again chilled him to the bone. How could he? Its strength was insane and the whole deal with sucking that smoke out of his mouth was wrong on so many levels. He refused to face it. He just couldn't.

  He stood and brushed the sand off his pants. Then he noticed his shoulder.

  It was healed! No cut or scar or anything to indicate he'd been sliced up. In fact, the shirt was fixed, too. No blood stain or rip. It was like he'd been given a new set of identical clothes.

  I feel like new, he thought.

  A bird cried out somewhere deep within the trees. He gave the forest a fretful look. That Guardian thing was still out there and he had absolutely no intentions of encountering it again.

  He had to get off this island.

  Turning to face the sea, he scanned the horizon. Clouds and waves as far as the eye could see. He could swim, but to where? Maybe he could build a boat from logs and branches. He'd never done that before, but he sure as hell had the motivation to try.

  But first he needed a destination. If he walked around the island maybe he could find something useful, or hopefully spot another island to escape to.

  He headed up the beach. As he walked he saw the corpse of the crab, flies buzzing around it, the club still buried in its head.

  If that Guardian attacked him again, or if he ran into something else nasty, he'd need a weapon.

  Grabbing the end of the club he pulled it out of the crab's deep wound with a sickening noise. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. It definitely smelled real enough!

  He wiped off the crab brains from the club in the sand. Then he continued walking, keeping one eye on the distant horizon past the waves and the other on the trees.

  As he walked he mulled over every detail of his experience since his arrival hoping to find a hint that could get him out of this predicament and back home. But he could think of nothing beyond doing as the quest said, defeat the Island Guardian.

  After about a half an hour he spotted a set of prints in the sand up ahead. Someone was here! He rushed over to inspect them. But he realized this was the exact spot he'd started his walk. They were his footprints.

  He'd circled the entire island and never saw anything different or any other land mass to escape to. Just trees, sand, waves and clouds. There was little to differentiate this part of the island from any other.

  “Damnit!” he said. This was hopeless. He needed to get home. He needed to see Anika again. The real Anika. She'd be worried about him by now. Was she even aware something had happened to him? Did anyone?

  Had he been replaced by one of these things? If they could mimic Anika they certainly could do the same with him.

  Was a doppelganger cleaning the floors back at the office right now, wearing his janitor's uniform and dealing with Mr. Oswald's snide comments?

  Rob snorted at the thought. Let him!

  But the moment of humor evaporated, and he was left contemplating his hopeless situation. What could he do? The only thing was for him to do as the quest said.

  As he sulked, he noticed there was something different about the beach. The crab was gone!

  Alarmed, he whirled about looking for the creature. Nothing.

  Cautiously, he walked over to the exact spot where he'd killed it. The corpse was missing. Did someone take it away? There weren't any drag marks in the sand, just the prints he and the crab made during their fight. It must have been carried.

  He shivered at the thought. The crab had been big. Maybe as heavy as he was. Yet, there were no other prints that he could discern.

  What the hell?

  Then he noticed something poking out of the sand at the bottom of the depression the crab's body had created. Something white.

  He dropped to his knees and pushed the sand away from the object, careful not to touch it. It was a white stone, oval in shape and the size of a chicken's egg.

  Hands on his hips he stared down at the little stone. It looked odd. Not a natural formation or any kind of rock he'd seen. Had this been here before or did the crab drop it?

  To be safe, he gently tapped at it with the end of his club. Nothing happened.

  Well, he thought. May as well see what this is about.

  He picked it up. Its texture was rough like sandpaper and it was heavy as if made of lead. When he turned it around, he noticed a tiny mark on one side. An elaborate swirling pattern filled an elongated circle. Hieroglyphs?

  You have taken an item: Minor Stone of Paralysis

  Uses 1/1

  Striking an opponent with this stone will cause full paralysis for 30 seconds. Effect cannot be broken by any means until time expires.

  Value: 2 Gold Pieces.

  Well, he thought. Now this could be useful.

  If this was a game, then this stone was Rob's reward for killing the crab.

  Loot.

  He checked the sandy depression again, digging deeper in case there were any more items to be found. There wasn't.

  He got to his feet, a new sense of purpose lifting his spirits. If the only way to get off this damned island was killing the Guardian, then that was exactly what he would do. Fear or not.

  Since he was right-handed, he held the stone in that hand and the club in the other. If it came down to swinging he'd have to switch hands in a hurry. But if this stone did as advertised, and wasn't a trick, then he had exactly what he needed to finish this.

  He marched into the forest, with the stone ready to be thrown, wary of an ambush. It wasn't until he arrived at the clearing again that he saw her.

  Anika. Or the thing that cruelly mimicked her. It stood at the other side of the clearing, its back to him.

  Rob's heart hammered in his chest. Should he get closer or try to throw the stone now? What if he missed?

  He shook his head. Don't think about that, you'll only screw up your aim.

  “Do you hate me, dad?” the thing hissed.

  Rob felt his anger flare up. “You are not my daughter!” he shouted. “You're a thing. A... a simulation!”

  It laughed and Rob's heart sank at the sound. It was exactly like Anika's laugh.

  Without moving its legs the Anika-demon turned around like it was on a spinning platform. It looked at him with red pitted eyes.

  “I know christmas is your favorite time of year, dad,” it said.

  “Shut up!” Rob shouted.

  “I didn't want to disappoint you.”

  It wanted him to attack now. It knows about the stone!

  “Dad!” it screamed. “Dad! Dad! Dad!”

  What was he waiting for? He hopped from foot to foot, ready to move, but he hesitated. Why?

  It kept shouting over and over at him. His anger grew into rage.

  He took a step forward as if to charge.

  The Anika-thing launched forward shrieking with an unholy wail that pierced the air. The space between them was cut in half in an instant.

  Wide eyed with anger he pitched his hand forward.

  The Anika-thing dodge to one side.

  But Rob didn't throw the stone, he'd only faked the movement. Now the thing was even closer.

  With a backhanded swing, he threw the stone and it flew through the air.

  The creature tried to dodge again, but the stone thumped against its hip and the little object vanished.

  Instantly the Anika-thing froze in mid-motion, like a video clip being paused.

  Rob blinked in amazement. It was paralyzed!

  As he moved closer to it the thing suddenly changed, causing him to stop. It morphed from Anika to something else entirely.

  A hooded figure took Anika's place. Ragged robes hung from a bony frame. From beneath its hood was a skeletal face, dessicated with rot. Deep pitted eyes glowed red from
within. Long-fingered hands reached forward to attack, frozen in place.

  Rob scowled at this monster. It had hurt him. Not just by killing him, but by taking Anika's form. His anger was now in full bloom.

  “You son of a bitch!” he roared, raising the club over his head with both hands. He brought it down on the thing's head.

  Its skull imploded in a cloud of dust. But the thing still stood upright, rooted to the spot.

  He smashed it again, and again and again. By the tenth or twelfth strike it tipped over onto the ground. Still, Rob kept bashing at it. Over and over until all that was left was a robe filled with mulched flesh and shattered bone fragments.

  Panting heavily he stepped back and looked down at his handiwork.

  “Okay,” he said. “That felt good.”

  As he wiped sweat from his brow, the Guardian's corpse faded from existence. Not a hint of it remained.

  A prompt appeared.

  You have completed the Quest: Defeat the Island Guardian.

  You have earned 250 experience points toward your next level.

  Then another prompt.

  Congratulations! You have received the Achievement: The First Time Is The Hardest.

  This achievement is earned for completing your very first quest.

  Reward: One additional Attribute Point upon reaching next level.

  So he's leveling? Where did he find this information? Before he could investigate he noticed something on the ground and swiped the prompts aside.

  Sitting in the grass where the Guardian had fallen were two objects resting side by side.

  Still wary of a trick, Rob cautiously leaned in for a closer look.

  One appeared to be a draw string pouch made of leather, the other was a small conch shell.

  As with the crab, Rob assumed this was his loot reward. Carefully, he picked up the pouch.

  You have taken an item: Minor Bag of Limited Holding

  Durability 30/30

  This bag can hold any number of objects up to a total of 50 kilograms. The owner will not be encumbered by the additional weight. Cannot hold anything living.

  Value: 15 Gold Pieces.

  “Whoa,” Rob said with a grin. This was an incredible find if it did as described.

  He opened the pouch up and peeked inside. Black nothingness peeked back. Avoiding the temptation to stick his hand in, he looked around for something to put in it. He picked up a large rock the size a baseball and dropped it in.

  Nothing happened. Or at least, it didn't feel like it. The pouch didn't bulge with the rock. In fact, there was no indication at all that the rock was inside. When he looked into the pouch's opening a screen appeared.

  Minor Bag of Limited Holding. Weight limit: 1.0 of 50 kgs.

  Floating in the upper left corner of the screen was the rock.

  Uncertain what to do, Rob reached for the floating rock. Suddenly, the rock appeared in his hand!

  “Sweet!” he said. He tossed the rock and swiped the Bag's screen out of view. Then he tied the pouch to a belt loop on his pant waist.

  Happy with his reward he examined the conch. It was pink and resembled a miniature version of those sea shells you blew in to make a sound.

  He picked it up.

  You have taken an item: A Medium Shell of Calling

  Expendable, Uses 1 of 1

  Blowing into this Shell will summon a denizen of the seas to come to your aid. Can only be used at the shoreline of a large body of water.

  Value: 75 Gold Pieces

  Rob blinked in surprise. “Double whoa,” he said.

  But was this what was needed to get off the island? A denizen of the sea that will come to his aid?

  He looked around the clearing. Nothing else here indicated another task needed to be done. With a shrug he decided to head back to the beach again, club and shell in hand.

  The wind had picked up and the waves were more choppy by the time he made it to the beach.

  He looked at the shell in his hand. So this is how it had to be done. Do the stupid tasks assigned to him and follow the stupid quests and he would progress. But progress to what? It didn't matter. If this shell worked, and he made it to the mainland, his entire purpose in life would be to find a way out of this god-forsaken nightmare.

  He just hoped it would be easy.

  Placing the tiny end of the conch to his mouth, he blew.

  A bleating wail thundered from the shell, a sound long and resonant. When he ran out of air the shell vanished from his hand leaving him spitting into the wind.

  Within moments he saw something in the frothing surf in front of him. Large, green and dome shaped. A turtle!

  But as it hoisted itself up onto the beach, Rob took several apprehensive steps back. The thing was gigantic!

  The turtle was as big as a truck, the top of its shell higher than Rob's head. Massive flippers heaved its bulk forward, kicking up huge amounts of sand. Sea water glinted off its wet leathery skin. The thing stopped and turned its beaked head to look at him with saucer sized eyes.

  Rob stared at the turtle, mouth hanging open.

  For several moments, turtle and man regarded each other.

  As if sensing this little human might be of a lower brain capacity, the turtle nodded its head back in a gesture that suggested he hop on.

  Rob blinked out of his trance and looked at the turtle's shell. At the top, near the front, was a small saddle embedded within its contours, pommel and all.

  “Oh,” Rob said. “Okay.”

  Tucking the club under one arm, he went to the turtle's side with trepidation. Finally working up the courage to climb he tried to find anything to grab along its slick surface. Then he noticed a series of deep indents leading up to the saddle.

  “Cool!” he said, carefully sticking his foot inside the first indent and pushed himself up. He climbed the shell and wrangled himself onto the saddle which appeared to be a natural part of the shell. Slight depressions on either side of the saddle kept him from doing the complete splits, but it was still uncomfortable. He would have taken up yoga if he knew he'd be straddling a truck sized turtle.

  Once he was settled, the turtle pushed off the beach with one giant flipper and slowly turned.

  Rob stared in wonder at the back of the creature's head. This is happening. This is really happening!

  As the turtle finally lurched itself off the beach and into the waters, Rob found himself laughing with childlike wonder.

  For a few moments all his worries about his strange situation evaporated and he simply let himself enjoy this experience.

  Turtle and rider sailed out to sea.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It did not take long before Rob's tutorial island of hell vanished behind the waves in their wake.

  Although he had no idea what time it was he guessed the turtle had been carrying him along for about half an hour. The waves were nasty, rising up around them and washing over the turtle's shell.

  Rob was soaked, and on more than one occasion had to spit up sea water after a particularly big wave. But despite the menacing sea and the terrifying rocking of the turtle beneath him, he was content.

  At least a little. He was no longer on that damned island. And since they'd left shore he hadn't encountered one of those annoying prompts telling him what to do.

  And despite not having any influence on the turtle's direction at all, he didn't feel like he'd lost control of his situation. He was here because he did what needed to be done. No sulking or pouting. Just action.

  Or he might be telling himself that to keep from freaking out. He was on a monster sized turtle in the middle of an angry ocean within a simulation that apparently wanted to kill him at every opportunity.

  At least he still had his club which he kept stashed in a natural groove of the shell. Hanging onto the saddle's pommel for dear life as they pitched and rolled took both hands.

  And he had his pouch. He fingered its texture and marveled at the craftsmanship. Either this game create
d it for him or someone had lovingly stitched it by hand. He pretended it was the latter.

  He scanned the horizon, but the sight of land was elusive. All that he could see were clouds. Eventually he noticed that the clouds extended down to the sea itself, forming a wall of fog. The turtle took them straight toward it.

  As they entered the fog Rob felt a sense of unease. The water was still treacherous and the turtle still pitched to and fro, but now his visibility dropped to zero.