Realm of the Nine Circles: A LitRPG Novel

by P. Joseph Cherubino

  He stepped back behind the lines, letting a trio of centaurs take his place. “Keerna?” he bellowed. “Thug? Thornbark?”

  “Kal!” Thuglar yelled back. Kalmond chopped at an arm poking through the barricade of bodies him and then dashed over to his friend.

  “Heal,” Thuglar gasped.

  “Healer!” Kalmond screamed, dragging Thuglar back out of the line and dropping him on the ground. “Heal goddamn it!” He punched forward with the head of his axe, catching a wraith in the sternum. He followed it with a head blow, then another rapid thrust to the throat. “HEAL!”

  “Dude, I’m fine.” Thuglar stabbed up into the gut of the next wraith, straight through its armor. “They got me the first time you squealed.”

  “Squealed?” Kalmond grunted.

  “Like a girl,” Thuglar said as he wound his arm back and pegged a flash bang into the a group of Evil Paladins who broke through. The two friends moved in and cut them down while they were still stunned, then raided their corpses quickly.

  They divvied up the loot just like old times. “This stuff will be useful, if we make it back to the supply tent,” Thuglar said.

  “Hey!” Keerna’s voice rode over the clatter as white streaked the sky. As a one-sided weapon, the flash bang only had a small visual effect for those on the same team as the the person who used it. “I heard that ‘like a girl’ comment!”

  “She’ll kick your ass if you’re not careful,” Kalmond laughed as he rose up and beheaded another creature. He didn’t bother to take note of who or what he killed anymore, simply aiming for anything that wore the symbol of Lord Mylos.

  “Heard that too. Shut up and fight, will you?”

  Kalmond and Thuglar glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, and burst out laughing.

  “Race?” Thuglar gasped, gutting an ogre that had grabbed him around the neck.

  “To fifty,” Kalmond growled back as he planted a boot into the back of a wraith just killed by a neighbouring orc. He tucked a grenade into its shirt and shoved it into the press of enemy bodies. “That's four,” he called as the muffled explosion sounded and a cluster of enemies were vapourised.

  The fighting settled into a rhythm. Where the two armies met, chaos reigned. A short distance back, measured by lines of bodies ten deep, more players waited for their turn to fight. As characters fought and died, healthy players moved in to take their place. It became impossible to tell how the war was going while stuck in the thick of it.

  “Guys!” Thornbark called out from behind. “We got a problem.”

  “Damn straight we do. I’m six kills ahead. Dwarf better keep up.” Thuglar wrinkled his nose in defiance.

  “Not that kind of problem. Look.” He hauled Thuglar up onto his back. The elf, light and graceful, stood with his feet gently planted on Thornbark’s spine.

  “Oh no.” His voice trembled and Kalmond could see the colour had drained from his face. “Protect your flanks, enemy at the rear!”

  “Let me see,” Kalmond snapped. A moment later he stood in Thuglar’s place, gripping the centaur’s shoulder to keep himself steady.

  The Noble Four led the main charge from inside a smaller group made up exclusively of Keerna’s clan members. Several other groups fought beside them. They'd banded together, an army within an army, sixty players with the experience and technique to work together as a single unit.

  And now, they found themselves outmaneuvered. The rest of the Noble Army had provided a buffer, cycling smaller, less experienced groups in and out while fighting the stray marauder who slipped through. For a while, the flanks stayed even with the battle line. But then, those extra fighters had fallen off, taken out by a flood of Mylos’s wraiths that spilled past the edges and began to fight the Noble Army from the rear.

  “How’d he get them back there? Where the hell are the rest of our fighters?” Kalmond yelled as he jumped down to the ground.

  “Probably dead,” Keerna said, raising her voice over the noise. “What do we do now?”

  Kalmond scowled. “We’re losing. We can’t stop fighting. He pushed his way through to the back of the formation to take his place in one of the weaker spots, a line in the rough circle that was bulging desperately inwards. Kalmond channeled his fury towards it, hacking at enemy arms and heads without remorse. He worked steadily, face set, heart thumping at a fast but steady pace as it fuelled his movements, and his anger. He had brought these people to this. He had led this army, then formed the strategy that was about to lose every single one of them.

  A claw struck his face, raking sharp nails below the rim of his visor. He lopped it off, wiping the blood from his eyes. Another grabbed his wrist, yanking him further into the fray and leaving a dangerous gap behind him. Sparks exploded, and the wraiths before him screamed an unholy oath. They fell back; so did he. At one point he was conscious of tingling skin, of wounds closing and energy rising. He ignored it, not looking back to see who it was who healed him.

  Kalmond hacked and chopped, sliced and kicked. His head buzzed with a flat numbness, his mind stubbornly refusing to admit they might lose, not hopeful enough to think they might win. He whirled the boar oak handle overhead and brought it down in a mighty blow, using the accumulated damage bonus from taking down so many enemies in a row. He reeled and stumbled, the red pulsing endurance warning finally catching his eye. He looked around, head turning frantically, his army gone. Four wraiths surrounded him, floating just above the dead bodies of their comrades. Kalmond ripped the cork from an endurance serum with his teeth. He downed the honeyed liquid in one gulp, then snarled at the closest figure.

  It looked to the side at its companion, hooded face swallowed by the black void. It nodded, then drifted towards Kalmond with a gurgling hiss. The sound cut off when its head toppled to the ground.

  The next wraith approached. Kalmond cleaved its head in two, a worm of discomfort winding through his gut.

  The third one slid forward, head bowed. Kalmond stumbled back, unnerved. He thrust the butt of his axe and punched it in the gut and it coughed, but kept its momentum. It too, offered no resistance when he raised his blade and spilled its innards on the ground.

  The last of Mylos’s minions simply collapsed to the ground, knees barely seeming to settle into the soft dirt. It reached out thin, shaking arms, gasping. “Hhaaa”

  Kalmond took three strides, coming to stand before it. “What do you want, demon?” He slammed his axe handle into the wraiths shoulder, sending it sprawling backwards.

  “Hhaaa…”

  “Are you laughing? I’m about to kill you!” Kalmond leaned close, droplets of spittle flying from his mouth and disappearing into the darkness of the cowl.

  “Hhaaalp… usss.”

  Kalmond scrambled back. His heel caught on a fallen wraith, one that hadn’t yet faded into nothing. “What? What?” His breath came in quick heaves, the wraiths plea obscured by the terrified thumping of his heart.

  Chapter 25

  When Thornbark finally found Kalmond, he almost passed right by. The dwarf lay face first in a muddy clearing, the fine smatter of rain already soaking his hair. They were behind enemy lines, as the army of Mylos pushed closer to the Noble Army base. Thornbark reached down to check if the dwarf still breathed, then swung him onto his back. They hurried back to a makeshift healer area.

  Keerna came rushing as soon as they reached the blue healer’s tent. “You found him? Oh thank, god, he—” Her look of relief morphed into fury as she examined the dwarf. “Minus four endurance? You’ve got to be kidding me. This is my my players aren’t allowed endurance serum. Argh!” She threw her hands up in exasperation before aiming her open palms at Kalmond.

  Thornbark grabbed his ankle as the dwarf twitched awake, then started sliding off the horse’s back. “Steady on, Kalmond.” He gently lowered him down to the ground, where he teetered, then landed face-first.

  Kalmond coughed and groaned, then spat blood into the muck. “Ack, why is my mouth full of dirt? And who bashe
d me in the head?”

  “That is one of the many effects of endurance serum. Remember? Kal, you’ve just taken yourself out of the fight for fifteen minutes! Not to mention the very real fact that if Thornbark hadn’t found you, you’d be dead.” Her voice softened at the last, her worry seeping through as he placed a gentle hand on Kalmond’s shoulder. “What happened?”

  “Battle lust,” he said, spitting again. “I lost sight of the army, got caught up chasing down a pack of wraiths.” He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it again.

  “Rest up, Kal,” Keerna said. “You’ve got a host of stat reductions. Both armies seem to be pulling back to regroup, so we’ve got time.”

  “Pulling back?” Kalmond asked.

  Thornbark winced. “Mylos’s army is rallying for a major push. We’re outnumbered. Badly.” Kalmond’s face fell, mirroring the ache in Thornbark’s own heart. “Yeah, it sucks but… we can’t give up, can we?”

  “We need a plan,” Kalmond muttered. His voice was low and his eyes on the ground.

  Thornbark wasn’t sure if he’d only been talking to himself, but pounced on the opportunity. “I have an idea.” Both sorceress and thief swivelled their heads to look at him. “Hey, don’t look so surprised.”

  “We’re not surprised. We need a plan,” Keerna said with a soft smile.

  Thornbark scuffed his hooves on the ground and looked away. Truth be told, he was nervous, usually preferring to let the others take the lead. “Look, Virgil didn’t say we had to fight Mylos, or his army. All we have to do is get to the rift, right?”

  Keerna’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right. If we could sneak past the army instead of fighting our way through…”

  “We could do it.” Kalmond finally roused from his vacant stupor. “We could beat Mylos without fighting his army and all those damn wraiths. Where’s Thuglar?”

  “He’s off looting,” Thornbark said with a proud grin. At Keerna’s eyeroll he hastily added, “Not for himself. Hes getting everything our side has dropped, and stockpiling it in the supply tent. He’s gonna try give it back to them when they reboot with a new character so they don’t have to start from scratch.”

  Kalmond snorted screwing up his face as he looked away. Thornbark caught a glimmer in the thief’s eye, but said nothing.

  “That’s… kinda nice of him,” Keerna said. “But how on earth will he find the original owners?”

  “I think he asked Virgil to help,” Thornbark said.

  Kalmond stood, teetering a little until he found his legs again. “Come on,” he barked.

  Thuglar placed a golden chestplate into one of the many boxes in the tent, then pulled a matching helmet from his inventory. “Same guy, Virg?”

  “Item Helm of the Fallen Paladin, item history last owner Honeybunch-underscore-eight-two.”

  Thornbark checked the label on the box and dropped the item in. He ran his eyes over the bottom row of his inventory, noting that these items all fit the needs of a fellow thief. He sidestepped, opening another chest.

  “Ok, who’s this pretty thing belong to, V?”

  “Item necklace of the fickle maiden, item history last owner i-steal-two-point-oh.” Virgil’s voice held the flat monotony of a modulated text to speech program as he diverted his resources elsewhere. Thuglar coughed a quick chuckle, unable to suppress his humor at the robotic voice sounding out the more ridiculous player names. “Oh hey guys!You found Kal!” He picked up the next piece of the dead thief’s equipment and dropped it in the box. “I’ve still got a bit to unload. Can you guys take care of the rampaging army, kill Mylos, fill the chalice and be back in twenty?”

  Keerna snorted. “Sure. Will we pick up your laundry on the way back?”

  Thuglar turned surprised eyes her way. “Well that’s just ridiculous. Lunch would be nice though.” He flicked a cheeky grin her way, then drew out the next inventory item for Virgil to check.

  “Item: ring of the Westerly Witch, item history last owner i-steal-two-point-oh.” Thuglar threw this one into a pile in the corner.

  “What are you doing?” Kalmond asked.

  “Storing away the core gear of the fallen players. The ones I can reach, anyway. Anything they were holding but can’t use can be divided up amongst the rest.”

  “Oh.” Kalmond returned Thuglar’s open expression through narrow eyes. “You better be careful, man. People might start to think you… I dunno, have a heart or something?”

  Thuglar winced. “Easy on the insults, dwarf. This is purely opportunistic. After all, who can I sell my fat loot to of everyone rage quits because they lost everything?”

  Thuglar groaned. “Look, as altruistic as that is, we need to finish this. We’ve lost way too many people and when Mylos sends his army back down here they’re gonna wipe us out.”

  “Well sure,” Thuglar said, offloading the rest of his looted items in careful order into a large chest. “But how the hell are we gonna do that?”

  Kalmond quickly went over Thornbark’s plan and between them, they refined it. What low level characters were left would act as bait, flaunting some choice armor drops and making a run for it towards one of the safer zones in the Third Circle. They’d use cloaking spells to get them so far and drop them just before they were out of range.

  If all went to plan, the Wraiths would chase them. While the army was distracted, the Noble Four and three other small crack teams would skirt the edges of the army under whatever invisibility spells were available. In the event the four were discovered, all teams would drop their disguise and cause havoc in the hope of allowing Kalmond and his friends to escape.

  “Well then,” Thuglar said, dusting his hands together. “What are we waiting for?”

  They each set about preparing for the ploy. Thuglar tracked down One-Eye and Missus, directing them to lead the other low levels in their false retreat. Kalmond and Keerna tracked down the remaining members of her clan while Thornbark sifted through Thuglar's loot piles in search of claiming items.

  “What did you find?” Kalmond asked the centaur when they met again.

  “Not enough,” Thornbark answered. “I can get us down to about a 15% chance of detection, not counting racial and class buffs, but we’ll need a mage to complete it.”

  Keerna nodded. “I can take care of the rest.”

  The decoy party set off with much whooping and yelling, despite Kalmond’s demands to keep the use of emoticons to a minimum. A few yards out they faded into invisibility, the noise cutting off after a sharp “Oi,” that somehow still contained traces of an accent.

  Kalmond sucked in a deep breath. “Our turn?” he said. They were stationed some way from their camp, wanting to see the smaller army leave and to approach Mylos from what they hoped was an unexpected direction.

  “Six minutes,” Keerna said. “They’ll drop concealment at ten. That’ll let us get close to the battlefield, but hopefully let us avoid tripping over their hordes.”

  Kalmond bounced on the balls of his feet, puffing out long breaths. Next to him, Thornbark shifted, drawing his bow, dropping it, drawing it again.

  “You look as nervous as I am,” Kalmond said to the side.

  Thornbark gave a nervous chuckle. “The almighty Kalmond? Nervous? I thought you were unflappable.”

  Kalmond choked and coughed back the breath he’d been taking. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

  “You’ve got a reputation. I mean, you’ve played alongside pretty much everyone on this server that matters. And it’d take some serious balls to steal from the sorceress over there.”

  Kalmond groaned. “Thuglar tell you about that one?”

  “He didn’t have to.” Thornbark cringed under Kalmond’s furious glare. “Dude, everyone knows. You should be proud—I mean, you did get the cup, even if it was a decoy… and you got caught.”

  Kalmond’s ears turned pink as he resolutely stared ahead. “How many minutes left?” he asked Thuglar.

  “Three.” The elf spoke abruptly,
his eyes on the horizon ahead.

  "Teams ready?" Keerna called. Three voices answered in the affirmative, though the speakers themselves couldn't be seen. "On my mark," she snapped, eyes slightly crossed at she watched a timer somewhere on her visual display. "One-hundred-twenty seconds. Guys, activate your cloaks."

  Kalmond had just begun the process of activating his amulet of invisibility when the sound of heavy footsteps came running.

  "Och, I'm so glad ye have'na left!" A depression in the grass showed where the speaker was standing.

  "Missus?" Kalmond said, surprised. "What are you doing back here, you're supposed to be—"

  "No," she cut him off, sounding slightly breathless. "They found us, attacked us before we hit the eastern ridge. They know, Kalmond, they know it were just a diversion. One-Eye sent me back te warn ye, they're comin' right behind me!" She stamped her feet and clapped her hands. “Och, isn’t this exciting?”

  The Four turned eyes to the ridge. It was quiet, empty, long tendrils of shadow reaching towards it in the afternoon light. Someone took a sharp breath but Kalmond raised a hand, motioning for silence.

  "I feel them," Thornbark said. "They're coming."

  The vibrations of heavy feet walking in concert leaked up through the ground as a low rumble nagged at Kalmond's ears.

  "What are ye standin' there for?" Missus yelped. "Run ye great fools!" She flashed into view, materialising a bare moment before turning heel and fleeing for the safety of the tents. Kalmond watched her go, then cast a glance back to the ridge. Where a moment ago is had been bare, now a thousand soldiers crested it, marching like ants corraled into a solid line. As they traipsed down the crest, another line appeared, then another.

  "How many does he have?" Keerna breathed.

  "We… should go," Kalmond answered. He took a step back, unable to look away from the flood of soldiers treading towards them with perfect alignment. As if his movement had triggered an alarm, the soldiers began to run, clanking heavily armored feet into packed dirt, heads down and bodies thrust forward as they gained momentum.