Realm of the Nine Circles: A LitRPG Novel

by P. Joseph Cherubino

  “Oh, man. I’ll take it, how much? There has to be a vendor here so I can unload some things, right?” Keerna craned her head, looking around.

  “Free.” Thuglar laughed as she punched him in the shoulder. “I mean it! If you don’t take it, I’ll give it to…. That guy.” He picked out a level 15 mage who sat nearby, conjuring pink rabbits out of boredom.

  Keerna squealed. “Don’t you dare! What kind of idiot wastes time on casting pet spells right before a battle?”

  Thuglar chuckled again and helped Keerna fasten the necklace. “You can repay me by finding the best archer, warrior and paladin you can. I have a few more of these trinkets. It’d be a shame for them to go to waste.”

  Keerna hesitated, a look of concern wrinkling her brow. “Thuglar, most people only collect those if they’re planning to sell them. That’s a lot of money you’re giving away.”

  He shrugged. “This isn’t a battle we can afford to lose. As long as the Realms are still standing, I can get more, right?” Keerna lifted an eyebrow in response. “Ok, it’ll take me another three years, but there’s a chance!” Thuglar said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  “Good,” Keerna said. “I won’t. Let’s get this camp organized.” Determination hardened her gaze as she studied the crowd.

  ***

  They spent the next half hour finding the most experienced players, those who would take the world quest seriously—gamers who knew how to cooperate for a common goal. They were hard to find. Without knowing the true story behind the world event, nobody was as motivated as the Noble Four. The biggest challenge turned out to be getting players to fight as an army.

  “There you are!” Kalmond spotted Keerna and ran over. “There’s only twenty minutes left on the timer. Is everything ready?”

  Keerna ran her eyes over the now-packed dome, spying at least a dozen more bodies materialising. “There’s nothing we can do. We put the word out, and all we can do now is hope. We have a solid core, but there’s just not enough time for anything else. I don’t think I could even get their attention.”

  “Woah.” Keerna and Kalmond turned to Thuglar. “You don’t see that? A loudspeaker command option just jumped up.” He reached out a finger and pressed it. “I wond—” His voice boomed out, drawing startled looks from his friends. Across the battlefield, heads turned up inquiringly as Thuglar scrambled to deactivate the loudspeaker function. “I guess we know what it does. What do we want to do with it?”

  Keerna chewed her lip while Kalmond tugged at his whiskers with his teeth.

  “Buddy system?” Keerna asked.

  “Block, Damage, Heal,” Kalmond said with a curt nod. The system was often used in large raiding groups—player would split into smaller groups formed of a core with a damage dealer, a damage taker and a healer. Once the triad was set, other players would fill in gaps, making the total group size anywhere from four to eight players.

  “You want to do the honours, Kal?” Thuglar asked.

  Kalmond grimaced, but took a deep breath. “Attention players! No, that’s not right,” His voice cracked and he coughed to clear it, the short bark echoing around the dome, making many NPCs wince. “Attention True People of the Realm! The upcoming battle…” He trailed off, then started again. “The upcoming battle will change the face of the Nine Realms forever.

  “To some of you this may be just another quest in just another game. But for many of you, the Realm of the Nine Circles is home. Yeah, it’s a lot of fun, but we also find friends here. Real friends; people to talk to when you’re lonely, people who support you when you have problems. Hell, I put myself through college earning circs from missions…

  “Those who don’t play don’t understand how important this game really is. The Realm is community. The Realm is safety.

  “But now that safety is lost! With pressure from the outside, forces within the game want to change it, want to make it ugly and only about fighting and dominance. Those forces want to remove the balance that made the game its meaning to begin with!

  “Mylos is out of control—not just here, but in the real world, too. I need you to believe that what we do here today is real. The only way to convince Mylos that he is wrong is to defeat his armies today, now! That is the real reason behind the World Quest. With Virgil’s help, my friends and I have come to stop him. Make no mistake, he must be stopped.”

  Kalmond finally caught sight of the hundreds of eyes turned to him, and faltered. He looked to Holly, and she nodded reassuringly.

  “Here’s the plan,” he said. “We form groups, using the buddy system. No more than eight per team unless you’ve practiced with your group before, we don’t want to be tripping over each other. If you don’t know what that is, ask someone.

  “Know who’s in your group and keep them alive. They’re gonna be your only shot at living through this. And…” he caught sight of One-Eye and Missus. “If you’re only a low level and have nothing to lose, I’m sorry, you’ll probably die quick…unless…” Kalmond paused. “Unless you work together! I’ve seen a dozen level two characters take down a level thirty five bully who tried to raid their camp just for a little bit of XP. That’s the kind of bully Mylos is!

  “Blue and Purple tents are for healers. Go there if you’re too low to fight. Red tent is for inventory. You got something you don’t need? Leave it for someone who does.” He went on to explain the basic strategy: the damage takers would lead, take the big hits and shield the damage dealers. The healer would keep them both alive. Anyone else would just fit in where they could. As smaller groups, they were to penetrate as far into the enemy lines as possible while the low level players ran amok as best they could, the ultimate goal being to push the Four as close as possible to Mylos. Kalmond finished outlining the battle plan, then faltered again.

  “Now listen up!” Thuglar yelled, the added volume making everyone wince. “I got about thirty flash bangs, ninety-six dwarvish grenades and a whole bunch of other stuff. If you’re a high level and don’t have the gear, come see me at the red tent.” Immediately the crowd started shifting. “One at a time! Line up, we don’t have long.”

  He turned with a grin to see Kalmond staring, agape. “Where… where did all that come from?” The dwarf flushed a bright shade of red and Thuglar could almost see the steam coming from his ears.

  “The shop. I guess I kinda forgot about it. It was all stashed to sell.”

  Kalmond’s colour dropped back to normal and he looked at his friend with a newfound respect.

  “Uh, Mister Thuglar? I could use a few of those flash bangs, shoot ‘em with me arrows.” Thuglar gave the level 27 archer a quick inspection. Satisfied she had enough armor enchants to make up for her low level, he passed her two.

  “There you go. Make sure your team knows to keep you up until you’ve used them. You know how they work?” She nodded. “Good. We want them in the most concentrated areas.”

  Thuglar waved her off and, with some help from Keerna, set about distributing what he could. He didn’t turn anyone away and didn’t check too closely whether they fit the criteria he named—there simply wasn’t time. Just as Thuglar was debating which knife to give a well buffed, level 39 assassin, a cry went up. Thuglar glanced up to see the sky fall. Sparkling shimmers of gold and rainbows exploded, running down the sides of the dome and leaving a gaping hole in the top.

  “Outta time, outta time,” Thuglar muttered, shoving both knives at the elf before him. “Find someone who can use the other.” He activated the loudspeaker command. “Time’s up, people. Bangs and Bombs are over here if anyone was still waiting. Let’s roll!” He dumped the last of the items from his treasured wooden box on the floor, items four times its size tumbling out along with far too many small, metallic balls to have ever been inside it. Thuglar grabbed a handful of the golden ones and stuffed them into his shirt, ten slipped a few blue ones into his boots. They disappeared without a trace and he grinned.

  “Ready boys?” he called to the other chosen
ones. “No offense, Keerna. You’re always ready, so I didn’t bother to ask.”

  Keerna chuckled and cast something that made her skin glow purple. Kalmond returned Thuglar’s grin and hefted his axe, the eagerness written on his face. Thornbark pranced, bow at the ready as he blew out a long breath of anticipation.

  They stepped outside of the ring burnt into the ground by the fallen shield, letting momentum carry them further, faster. By the time they crested the hill to see the mass of black-armored soldiers bearing down, they were running. When the two armies crashed into each other, weapons flying, streaks of light raining down, armor smashing against armor, every one of the Four was laughing and screaming with battle lust, and with the rage that would get them back their world

  Chapter 24

  Martin half-sat on the stool by his workstation, one foot resting on the stool’s frame, the other planted firmly on the floor. The captured machine gun rested on his bent knee, muzzle pointed in the general direction of the two mercenaries hogtied with network cable in the corner of the lab. For the past hour, Najeel tapped away one-handed at his keyboard. Martin glanced occasionally at his own screen, half-heartedly looking into the status of the Plexcorp hardware that literally took on a life of its own.

  He was torn between the life he built for himself after the wars and the war that visited itself upon him. He just could not seem to get away from the violence. All the late nights as an adult student on the GI bill, all the days spent immersing himself in post-graduate engineering, somehow led him straight back to people with guns trying to kill him.

  “Martin, come look at this, please,” Najeel said, breaking the spell. Martin complied, but not before wagging his finger at the two captives. He had them fairly well trained.

  “What ya’ got, Doctor,” Martin said, arranging himself to keep the weapon ready.

  “These fractal patterns,” Najeel said. “They represent compute resources for game elements.”

  “That is a phenomenal set of infographics, but without a reference p—”

  Najeel mashed the enter key and the patterns sprouted numbers, and the numbers grew lines connecting them to labels at the bottom of a real-time number line. “They’re all the same pattern,” Martin said.

  “Yes. That is the Gideon,” Najeel replied.”This is the VIRGIL construct.” Najeel hit another key.

  “Oh my Lord….” Martin said. He was not a religious man. “These are brain patterns that seed the fractal. There is just one pattern for Gideon, but look at all these individual seeds for the others.”

  “Yes,” Najeel said. “The system algorithms spawn the original brain patterns of the…human computing devices.”

  “So, these hundred or so brains…”

  “Essentially dream up the elements within the game.”

  “This is breakthrough stuff,” Martin said, voice dripping regret. “If it weren’t so damn criminal…”

  “You know how many medical advances came from wars over the years?” One of the captives asked.

  Martin saw red. Najeel held up his hand, and for the first time, he let the Doctor reign him in.

  “Go on,” Najeel replied with ice in his voice.

  “So what if the shit is illegal,” the mercenary said. “You’ve been making a living off it for how many years?”

  Martin took a deep breath and measured out his answer carefully. “Why should I accept a moral argument from an assassin.”

  “Ha!” the man replied. “How many did you kill over there?”

  “I did mine for a higher calling, asshole. You’re in it for the money. You’d have killed both of us for a paycheck.”

  “For the past hour you’ve been thinking about killing us simply because you’re pissed off.”

  Martin turned away.

  “Crude as this man is,” Najeel said. “He does have a point.”

  Martin clenched his jaw and hung on grimly to his patience. “Let’s hear it,” he said.

  “The machines can replicate the brain patterns without the brains. We have enough computing power to synthesize our own patterns from the data gathered.”

  “What are you saying?” Martin asked. “Do you really want to let this go on?”

  “Yes.” Najeel replied, but before Martin could pounce, he continued, “But not like this. No more barbarity is necessary. We don’t have to destroy what Gideon built.”

  “But it was built on that barbarity, Doctor.”

  “Full circle,” the mercenary in the corner said. Martin showed him his middle finger without looking. The mercenary chuckled.

  Martin could not argue with that. He was locked in a paradox, caught between a lifetime opportunity to work with possibly the most significant development in computer science and commerce in illegal human body parts. The chime of an incoming chat request turned his head.

  Martin circled back to his workstation. “It’s your kennel master,” he said to the mercenary. Martin accepted the voice chat request. “I have a couple stray dogs down here. I think they are yours.”

  “Cut the shit, Martin. You won,” Dennis said.

  Martin blinked rapidly. “He’s not saying anything!” a muffled voice said in the background. “I knew he was bluffing.”

  “Is that Sally Cordina?” Martin asked. “I should have known…”

  “Yeah, It’s me,” Sally’s voice crew clearer. “And I knew I never should have hired you.”

  “Look,” Dennis said. “Gideon has lost his mind. As far as I’m concerned, that negates any obligation I have to him.”

  “What a saint,” Martin replied.

  “We can all just walk away from this,” Dennis said.

  “Are you high?” Martin replied. “You’re just going to leave Gideon for the board of directors to discover? What do you think they’ll do when they unbox the great Gideon and discover he’s a 21st century Dr. Frankenstein?”

  “Martin, you don’t think I’d have taken this job if I didn’t have plausible deniability, do you?”

  That gave Martin pause. “What do you propose?” Martin asked.

  “I told you. We walk away. I’ve been here long enough to be vested. I take my leave as per my contract. Cut my losses.”

  “And what about your douchebag squad?”

  “They come with. I’ll even assume the cost of paying for their silence.”

  “I’ll call you back,” Martin said.

  “Let’s not—”

  Martin ended the call and turned to Najeel. “Fuck it. We have the VIRGIL construct. Let Stroener and Cordina walk. How would you like to run the biggest tech company in the world?”

  “That has a certain appeal,” Najeel replied.

  “Hey,” the mercenary said. “If you need security staff—”

  “Don’t call us,” Martin said. “We’ll call you.”

  ***

  Thousands of players set out from the Noble camp across the rolling hills towards the flatland, where a dark line formed in the distance.

  “That line looks a lot longer than ours,” Keerna said.

  “It sure does,” Kalmond replied, a trace of fear worming through his gut.

  So far, the Noble line held steady. No players rushed ahead. Kalmond was pleasantly surprised. As if the crowds themselves had a collective mind, both lines stopped face-to-face just a few paces away. Each enemy character or player stood beneath a small, red glowing icon of a bull’s head. The bull horns turned and tilted in unison with its wearer.

  “Surrender, weak spawn of the Lesser Realm.” Mylos’s voice oozed over the battlefield, laying down thick fear over the army like a suffocating blanket. “You do not know my might, or the vengeance I shall wreak upon this world if you resist! Surrender!”

  “Wow,” a faceless soldier said in a local chat bubble. “Melodrama much?”

  “What the hell’s the Lesser Realm?” another soldier replied.

  “Stop the chatter!” Keerna broke in.

  “Lighten up, it’s just a game,” the first soldi
er replied.

  Loudspeaker, Kalmond thought. “You won’t win this, Mylos. You can’t. The Realm belongs to the gamers and all the creatures in it, not just one thing. Definitely not to a monster like you!”

  Kalmond looked around in time to see an elf impaled by a black spear. He had his answer, the war had begun. The rod went right through the hunter, the tip dripping with fresh blood. Kalmond heaved his axe and struck at the wraith who was responsible as the enemy line smashed into them. The illusion of an ordered mass shattered as the two armies came together like a jar of oil and water being shaken by an angry toddler.

  “Give up.” The voice had slipped inside Kalmond’s head, somehow, deeper than VR voice chat.

  “You’re not a fighter, Mylos. You’re a disease.” Kalmond cleaved through a wraith’s head and spat on its fallen body. “Can’t you see what you’ve turned them into? This isn’t why you created the game.”

  “You know nothing! You are nothing but a rat, trapped inside my cage, spinning the wheel of my game day in, day out in your little laboratory with your little friends.”

  Trying to focus on the battle, Kalmond lunged at another wraith. The battlefield was full of them, as though every soldier had been replaced with an armored ghost. The thought struck Kalmond like a brick to his head. Mylos had as many human players as the Noble Army, but many more NPCs. Most of them were wraiths.

  “You talk like it’s a bad thing, having friends.” Kalmond gave his face a quick swipe under his helmet to clear the sweat pouring into his eyes. “What, poor little geeky Gideon couldn’t make any of his own?”

  A vicious screech pierced the sky and lightning rained down into the army, felling players and wraiths alike. Kalmond hollered for the forces around him to pack tighter, fill the gaps left by the dead. He pushed forward, felling another beast. Then, his foot caught in something soft and he tripped, landing on a blood soaked body.

  “Up you get,” someone growled and hauled the dwarf back to his feet. Kalmond gave the orc a quick gesture of thanks before swinging the axe in a wide arc to slice the bellies of two wraiths floating towards him. They screamed, and lashed out with claws as magic tingled in Kalmond’s gut. He relieved one of its head, then chopped down through the skull and into the neck of the other. The spell dissipated before it could catch hold and start drawing his life force.