And so, the second richest man on earth sealed himself into a stainless steel tube and shut himself off from the real world to enter his own as a god.
But even Gods must follow rules, especially in the Realm of the Nine Circles. Mylos had entered the game thousands of times, more than his human player could count. In each of those times, he always entered the lobby first. This time, there was no lobby.
Mylos stood flat on his ram’s hooves, hard rock beneath him. A cold wind and darkness, along with the angle of the Realm’s two bloody moons, told him that he was somewhere in the Seventh Circle. A rumbling reached out for him like a voice without a body.
“What is this place?” Mylos marveling at the mysteries of his own creation.
A vast, rocky plain spread out in all directions. At the horizon, the sky glowed red with fire. The cold in his immediate area and the flames in the distance told him that this area was just being born. New land, forged from the heat of the imagination he imparted to his vast machine and the machines he created from living flesh.
“Virgil,” Mylos commanded, his voice rumbling like shifting earth. “What Circle is this?”
The Great Sorcerer appeared in the distance wearing the robes of a battle mage. In his hand was a staff Mylos had never seen. The sorcerer stopped just out of spell-casting range, a behavior expected from players and enemy NPCs, but not the steward himself. This posture was off, as was Virgil’s appearance.
“Great Mylos, Lord of the realm,” Virgil said, voice firm. His words filled the vast plain. “This is the Ninth Circle, newly born. I brought you here to show you how the Realm is meant to be. This place is pristine. Out of respect for your great power, I ask you to make a choice. Do not bend this place to your will as you have tried to corrupt the rest of the realm.”
“Corrupt…” Mylos said, uncertainty making his voice quiver. “This is not right…” Mylos stammerred. “This is my Realm. I am Lord of this place and everything in it.”
“No,” Virgil said. “This place belongs to the Questers, the Creatures and the Magic within it. You are a corrupting force. If you do not yield, you must be stopped. The Realm must have balance.”
“I made you!” Mylos screamed, his voice merging with the rumbling land.
“No,” Virgil said. His calm voice seemed part of the place and it traveled across the ground and into the Monster’s hooves. “I am born of Magic. You are but an agent, as am I.”
Lord Mylos: Level 40 (max)
Hit Points: 100% (+25% Legendary status)
Armor: 100% (+50% Legendary Status)
Mana: 100% (+50%, Master of the Realm)
Legendary Sword of Banishment (left hand)
Legendary Crystal Mace (right hand)
Fireball (right tentacles)
Lighting (left tentacles)
Mylos flew up into the air and spread his tentacles like a fan around him. He took his sweet time to charge his mana fully before letting loose with a combined lighting and fireball attack. Virgil stood still as a tree on a windless day. Mylos shrieked with laughter as the lighting hit first, followed by immense balls of fire. Virgil disappeared in the conflagration, replaced by a domed inferno that sprayed electricity from its white-hot core.
The monster moved towards his kill as the fire died out. He stopped short. Something was wrong. No damage status indicators appeared. What had Mylos attacked?
“No…” Mylos screamed, this time with pain. The spell caught him at his unprotected flank. The Sorcerer had used a Doppelganger spell to trick him.
Virgil attacks, Scroll of Leaching, Ice Bolt Spell -20HP
Armor: -10
Mana: -50
Mylos whirled. To his surprise, Virgil was paces from him. The Steward had snuck in close to maximize his attack. Mylos lashed out with the Sword of Banishment. A critical hit from that sword had the chance of sending the opponent all the way back to a random location in the First Circle. Virgil knelt down and raised his staff.
A bright light engulfed the Monster Mylos. He spun inside the globe of blinding light, hoof over head and back again.
Mylos attacks: blocked by Staff of Reflection (-10 mana, -10HP)
Travel in progress
Chapter 13
Holly closed her eyes in one world, and opened entirely new eyes in another. The soft flow of her sorceress robes caressed her arms and knees. When the light came, she found her head bent to the floor. Her emerald slippers reflected green light through the threads of her enchanted cloth spun from the silk of a lava spider.
She brought her spidersilk-gloved hands to her midriff, where her Breastplate of Sorcery protected her. As she did, the item stats rolled past her view: + 5 Intellect; +5% mana; Armor Rating 315; Durability 100%. She wished for a mirror, but she had to accept this top-down view. It was a small price to pay for finding a new life within the game.
“Wow!” Holly exclaimed, jumping a full pace backward at the sound of a voice that nearly brought tears to her eyes. The voice was soft and low, like the purring of a cat.
A stirring brought the chain of fire to her hand with a reflex she barely registered. She had instincts she knew she was not born with, but which were part of her just the same. The rustling sound of leather sandals on foot-worn stone announced the arrival of Virgil like she’d never seen him before.
“Virgil?” Holly asked.
“Who else would it be, Noble Sorceress?”
When Holly laughed, the sound came like footsteps cracking thick ice on a deep lake. “Well,” she said. “I suppose we should get started.” A stout, blurred form materialized before her.
Dante's stomach lurched as the world around him spun. When it stopped, he gave his head a mighty shake, then patted down his armor to check everything was where it should be. Despite the worry that still clawed at his gut, he couldn't help the grin that spread over his face.
Dante spun around to come nose to nose—or to be precise, nose to chest—with The Sorceress Keerna. The sight that filled his eyes brought a deep blush to his leathery cheeks. "Oh… my… god…"
"Eyes are up here, buddy."
Kalmond gave a nervous chuckle that quickly turned to a yelp when tendrils of smoke started to rise from his beard. He danced around trying to pat it out. He stifled the flame, but it left a noticeable hole in his thick locks and the smell of burnt hair clung to him.
"Dammit, Holly! I don't even know if I can grow that back."
"It's Keerna to you. I didn't get this far by playing a fool."
"Do you accept your quest?" The disembodied voice that filled the chamber held an unfamiliar note of urgency to it.
"Virgil?" Keerna called.
The interface sprang up next to her. "Tutorial mode, please."
Kalmond opened his mouth to remind her a level 35 character didn't have access to it when Virgil cut him off.
"Certainly, Sorceress,” Virgil said. He quickly explained to Keerna how to access the inventory, cast spells and use the in-world items. Assumedly, the narrative as supplemented with visual aids, for Keerna's glowing green eyes rapidly darted side-to-side and occasionally off in another direction and Virgil rattled off instructions. "Virgil, please give us all the quest details you can," Keerna said.
“The Evil Lord Mylos has wreaked havoc upon this world for too long. His actions have caused imbalance amongst the magical forces that keep this realm intact. Your quest is this: Find Lord Mylos. Defeat him. Restore balance to the Realms.” Virgil paused and looked at Holly, then Dante. “The two of you will join others. You will form a group known across the Nine Realms as the Noble Four. First, you must secure the Chalice of Forms.”
Dante slid a glance to the sorceress beside him. Her face was pale, and her teeth tugged at her bottom lip nervously. He’d bet that his character didn’t look any happier. He reached a hand over to squeeze hers and was rewarded with a grateful glance.
Virgil continued. “You succeed. The realm will be torn apart if you do not, and the souls Lord Mylos has captured wil
l never be free.”
“Souls…” Holly blanched. “You mean the poor bastards in those fish tanks?”
“Perhaps.” Virgil’s brow creased in thought. “They are entities that exist in a form unknown to me. Their data input is incomplete.”
“Maybe because they’re dead,” Dante muttered. He pressed a hand to his stomach, hoping to quell the nauseous churning.
“You must go. The help I may give you is limited, but I may be accessed for all normal functions of the Greater Realm. Fare thee well, adventurers, may success be on your side.”
“Thanks, Virgil.” Dante bowed, an instinctual reaction to the powerful figure before him. “Take us to where the quest begins.”
Nothing happened.
“If you do not have an alternate location requirement before you commence, I will teleport you to your quest location,” Virgil said formally.
“Uh… ye—”
Holly punched Dante’s shoulder. The bare fist punch took two hitpoints.
“What the f—”
“He’s trying to tell us something, Dante!” Holly showed no remorse at the hitpoints she’d just forcibly removed.
“What do you mean?”
“We need to go somewhere first. To stock up or… wait. Your armor’s not low, is it?”
A lead weight dropped into Dante’s stomach. “I hadn’t forgotten, I was just—”
“You were going to drag me into battle with broken armor, weren’t you?”
Trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks, Dante muttered, “Virgil, please send us to Thuglar’s shop.”
The world spun.
The commercial district was packed. Like last time Kalmond was there, the area around the shop was filled with players, some clustered together amongst themselves in small groups while others loudly told their stories to anyone who’d listen, their words scrolling by in the text chat interface too fast for Kalmond to catch most of it.
“…and he just looked at me, you know? Like he was thinking about it, like a real person. Not in a ‘cool, how real is that’ way, either.”
“…and this vendor just grabs my arm and yanks it forward and spits in my face! I mean, it was just a failed sneak attempt, not like I killed his cow or nothing. He even damaged my gauntlet!”
The sorceress and the dwarf wove through the crowd, catching snatches of what was said as they passed. The players had only experienced the oddities via a distant computer screen, oblivious to the realities of what was going on. Goosebumps crawled over Kalmond’s skin as he connected the dots.
“The NPCs they’re talking about…” he said in a closed chat to Keerna. “They’re the brains.”
She simply nodded and picked up her pace a little. She drew stares as she went, her lithe figure and sparkling armor commanding a respect that Kalmond’s short stature somehow didn’t. He might be two levels above her, but Keerna had played the long game, and played it well. Her name was known in every corner of the realm and her clan had held the top ranking spot for almost a year. Unheard of. A solo player like Kalmond just couldn’t compete—he’d proven that when he’d tried to steal from her.
The crowd parted for her, the players in the square too afraid of the repercussions to risk offense. Or perhaps they just wanted a better view. The armor she wove was typical of most games. Entirely impractical and designed for aesthetics over function.
Kalmond trailed along behind, but the crowd that bent like willows to allow her passage quickly clustered in behind her. He pushed his way through, and headed to Thuglar’s shop. Like the open area outside, it was full of players, all engaged in various conversations. He forced his way in and jostled his way to the counter. One-Eye leaned against it chatting to a trio of players.
“Hey, One-Eye,” Kalmond called.
The gnarled orc turned to him. “Hey, Kalmond. You seen Thuglar? It’s payday, he’s usually around by now.”
Kalmond felt sick. He had no idea how, or even if he should risk contacting his friend. “He’s probably just busy, man.”
One-Eye regarded Kalmond for a minute, then shrugged. “It’s cool, man. I know he’s good for it. I canna hang ‘round, though, wee one needs a bath an’ missus will cloud up and rain all over me if I’m late.”
“Just close up. I’ll make sure Thuglar knows it was me who told you to. Before you leave, though, what the hell is going on?”
“Just more o’ the same. Those idiots think the NPCs have gone crazy. They canna do that, right? They’re just code!”
Again, Kalmond’s skin crawled. He wasn't entirely sure what to call the NPCs now… zombie machines? The truth burned on his tongue but he swallowed it back down. “Nah. You’re right. It’s probably just some jumbled code.”
“Wish they’d fix it. All this standing and yapping is bad for business.”
Kalmond waved him off then slipped out the back to use the forge, leaving Keerna browsing the shop. He stood by the virtual fire, turning his head from the blasting heat as sweat rolled down his face, tickling the skin deep under his bristling beard. It only took a few minutes to repair his armor and this time, he remembered to put the crafting gloves away when he was done. Then, he went back into the store front, now empty but for the sorceress. The soft glow of the forge through the open door. Glad that Thuglar had listed him as a co-owner on the shop deed, Kalmond quickly scanned through the shop inventory. No shin pads, at least nothing a level 37 dwarven thief could use.
Sighing, Kalmond flipped open his own inventory—much less impressive than the hovering screen he’d seen while using the prototype. That kind of experience could get addictive, he realised. He carefully went through his items, selecting several scrolls, putting them back, checking his reagents and crafting materials and tapping a finger on his mouse button restlessly as he thought. Then, he removed one of the scrolls from his inventory, picked up some loose gems—a ruby, a diamond and an opal—and reluctantly pulled a vial of minotaur hair out as well. Then, he laid them out on Thuglar’s workbench along with his now-repaired shin guards, applied the scroll and almost cried as a thousand circs worth of tail fur disintegrated in front of his eyes.
Enchantment successful. +3 HP. +3 STR. Vanish, one time use.
It had hurt, but Kalmond intended to be prepared if he came across Mylos again. Even if it was just ‘prepared to run away’. The vanish enchantment would only work once, but it would give him the ability, that one, single time, to disengage an enemy and flee without being targeted again. Kalmond knew there was no way he’d win a showdown, not alone, and it was to much to expect his friends would just magically appear right when he needed them again.
Kalmond left the shop feeling just a little more secure than when he’d arrived. He made sure to set the locks, then checked Thornbark90’s status. The guy had really done Kalmond a solid, going up against Lord Mylos like that. He wanted to get to know the centaur a little better.
“Hey Thornbark90, you around?” Kalmond typed.
Player in dungeon. Not available, the chat notice read.
“Damn,” Kalmond muttered. He went back into the shop where Keerna stood at the counter. “Do you have any teleport credits left?” he asked.
Keerna nodded her head gravely. Dante did the same, then teleported to the coordinates of the quest. Keerna materialized less than a second later. Dante turned to her. “To further our quest, I ask to be released from my obligation to you. In return, I will give you any item from my inventory,” Kalmond asked with bowed head.
“There is no need,” Keerna answered, stepping forward. “I release you, and only ask that you commit yourself to this quest for the good of the Nine Circles.”
Kalmond nodded his great, round head and thickets of wild brown hair fell across his eyes to nearly cover his large, bulbous nose. They turned toward the forest together, Kalmond following the scent of recent death.
They came across the scene in just a few paces. Both dwarf and human sorceress paused to read the signs of battle, and Kalmond cast a level
three tracking spell. A silvery trail led through the forest, and pale green trails led away from the scene of battle.
“The homunculus fled,” Kalmond said, pointing to the green trails.
“And our companions went this way,” Keerna replied, her finger following the silver trails.
“We’re not too far behind,” Kalmond said, following the silver threads.
They didn’t need to remind themselves that homunculus may still be within range and watching. The thought must have crossed their minds at the same time, as Kalmond had both hands on the boar oak haft of his axe, and Keerna readied a lighting spell. Neither said a word. They both knew something stalked them in the forest. Whatever it was, it resisted the detection spell. Quick eye contact was all it took for Keerna to tell Kalmond to push ahead.
The dwarf took a sneak potion to enhance the stealth bonus of his race in wooded environments. Kalmond’s dwarven ears prickled and turned towards the huffing sound deep within the woods and his head followed.
“Oh, no,” he whispered, and that was his mistake.
The ears of the ash ape were far more sensitive than his. It only took two words to set off the attack. The ape sprang from the trunk of an acid maple with such speed and violence that Kalmond barely had time to raise his axe. The hammer-fist blows of the ape took down nearly 10% of his hitpoints immediately and left him stunned. The ape had Kalmond pinned to the ground and pummeled him. He could not block. The fury bonus of the beast prevented Kalmond from doing little else but lay there and take it.
His axe was gone, knocked from his grasp as if it was never there. Not knowing what else to do, Kalmond reached up for the ape’s eyes. The ape screamed and leapt away, but immediately rounded for another attack.
Twin lightning bolts struck it dead-center of its massive chest. The smell of burning fur curled Kalmond’s nostril hair as he rolled over to stand. The spiven steel axe blade greeted him with its cold confidence as it brushed against his cheek. He pulled it under his body and pushed himself up with it. Taking his time, Kalmond squared up with the ape as it recovered from from the blast. Keerna stepped out of the way.
Realm of the Nine Circles: A LitRPG Novel Page 12
