Realm of the Nine Circles: A LitRPG Novel

by P. Joseph Cherubino

  Keerna had very little idea of how long she’d been at it, knowing only she’d lasted far longer than she could have before the added mana buffs she’d received from her weapon. It could have been days by the way it felt. Somehow, winning the battle seemed more work than losing it. They fought through the enemy camp now, but still met massive resistance. It was the damn wraiths. So, when the seemingly endless supply of the black-cloaked bastards suddenly vanished, nearly every player took notice.

  Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded. The armies clashed, but the pace slowed. Without the Wraiths, the Army of Mylos was severely outnumbered.

  “Damn, this is a slaughter,” Thuglar said. After Keerna scorched two orc warriors and finished them with a lighting spell, he stopped advancing.

  Thornbark stood in front of them, then circled as members of the Noble Army rushed past, not acting so noble. Fights were five-on-one more often than not. The horn sounded again.

  “The rift!” Said a random player named JiggyWithIt. A string of exclamation points and urgent emojis flowed behind the words.

  Chatter streamed by in the public chat window that until now, Keerna ignored. Now that she had pause, she opened up local chat to find a stream of text nearly too fast to read.

  “Are you seeing this?” Thuglar asked.

  Both Keerna and Thornbark nodded their heads slowly in amazement.

  “Most everyone has stopped fighting. Everyone’s heading to the rift,” Thuglar said.

  “Kalmond!” Keerna yelled. Three of the Noble Four raced back to the center of the plateau towards the rift.

  “Let them pass!” a group of centaurs worked crowd control, assisted by burly ogres of both armies. “The quest is over!” the lead centaur announced. For the moment, the crowd deferred to him.

  “There’s no winner yet!” one of the Noble Army replied.

  “Yeah, but … OVER! The quest is marked COMPLETE!” someone replied before the chat window exploded with text again.

  The horn sounded again through the rift and continued to blare. The shimmering portal that appeared once again resembled a miniature galaxy spinning in space. Its center pulsed with white light, then sent out blinding white rays in every direction. A tearing sound cut off the horn and a black object flew from the center of the light. The crowd cleared away as the object fell to the ground, and the Noble Four pushed through to find out what it was.

  A bloody bull head sat on the lush green grass, with a forked, red tongue lolling out from the corner of its mouth. Keerna picked it up by the horn and held it high. Thuglar moved in and she used his shoulders to climb up on Thornbark’s back and stand above the crowd.

  “The Monster Mylos is dead!” She said, activating the loudspeaker. Her announcement was followed by rolling thunder from a cloudless, diamond-blue sky.

  The army icons blinked out from the crown of every head.

  “OK,” Thuglar said. “Where the hell is Kalmond?”

  They turned towards the rift, waiting for the return of their friend. The rift closed with a hissing sound as if it was never there. Beyond it, crowds, once bitter enemies, searched the battlefield for loot and set up trading tents, enchantment altars and an occasional forge.

  “Virgil,” Keerna asked.

  In response, the sorcerer appeared before them, looking older than ever, but somehow less tired. “How may I assist the players today?” he asked.

  “Kalmond?” Thuglar asked, in a whisper.

  “Is no longer in the game,”

  “He’s…” Thornbark began.

  “Dead?” Virgil chuckled with a twinkle in his eye which, in the game world, was an actual twinkle that shed a bit of extra light on the last of the Noble Four. “He is part of the game myth now. There is no returning from myth. The deeds of his character are folded into the fabric of the Realms. Many quests and creatures will come from his adventures, and from yours.”

  ***

  “Damn, I have to piss so bad my teeth tingle,” Dante exclaimed as he tried to force his eyes open.

  Both Martin and Dante jumped back from their workstations and rushed over.

  “That might be an indication of neurological damage,” Najeel said.

  “Go check the biofeedback logs,” Martin said urgently as he helped Dante off the bench.

  “Guys,” Dante said. “Relax. That always happens when I have to pee real bad.”

  “It does not sound normal,” Najeel said, checking the logs anyway.

  “I’m surprised you’re letting me get up,” Dante said.

  “I already made two guys piss themselves today. We’re out of cleaning equipment.”

  Dante shaded his eyes with a hand to give Martin close scrutiny. “Are you serious?”

  “Yup,” was all Martin said as they moved into the hallway towards the bathroom.

  “Damn, I never realized the bathroom was so far,” Dante said while trying to ambulate on rubbery legs.

  “No headache?” Martin asked.

  “Surprisingly, no,” Dante replied. He held his hand out when Martin moved to follow him into the bathroom.

  “I can take it from here, unless you want to shake it for me,” Dante said.

  “I probably should, you always come back with the front of your pants wet anyway.”

  Dante snorted and pushed the door open, making sure to flick Martin a middle finger first. Quick relief and a few splashes of water on his face brought him back enough to start thinking up questions.

  Back in the lab, he asked. “What the hell happened in here?” Equipment still lay strewn around the lab from the taser fight and Dante’s first use of the harness early that morning. “I’ve been out for nine hours?” Dante asked, confirming the duration on his watch.

  “First question: a lot. Second question: nine hours seventeen minutes,” Martin said. “Next question.”

  “I have a few mods. Why are we not brains in jars?”

  “Thanks to the VIRGIL Construct,” Martin said. “We gave Cordina and Stroener the boot and we pretty much run Plexcorp now.”

  Dante blinked slowly and shook his head rapidly. “We what?”

  “Assuming you want the job, and I hope you do, because me and Najeel can’t do it alone—we will run the company through Virgil.” Martin turned one of his screens around displaying a multi-window display of Virgil’s Gideon avatar.

  “Holy crap,” Dante exclaimed breathlessly. “Virgil is playing Gideon like a game character?”

  “Pretty much,” Martin said.

  “OK,” Dante replied. “Now I have a headache.” He thought for a moment. “And Gideon is still playing the game, so who is he playing as?”

  Najeel had a ready answer. “Gideon’s brain is running massive parts of the game, just like the…harvested organs.”

  “He put his own brain in a jar,” Dante said, and gooseflesh covered his arms and traveled all the way up to his neck.

  Najeel continued. “And the code he is generating through his dreams is merging with the rest of the system.”

  “He did it,” Dante exclaimed, sitting down on the nearest stool. “He became the game.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” Martin said.

  “We have to get him out,” Dante said.

  “Are you forgetting he tried to kill us with his own private little army?”

  “He’s mentally ill,” Dante said. “And we lived. Are we the good guys, or aren’t we?”

  “Jury is still out on that one,” Martin said, folding his arms across his chest, “For me, at least. And anyway, we’ve been trying to wake him up with that junkie doctor of his. Just about kills him every time. He’ll be taking food through a tube until we can figure it out.”

  Dante shook his head and turned to Holly. Her supine form rested perfectly peaceful, and her eyes darted around under their lids like puppies under a quilt. He moved back over to his workstation that had been unceremoniously pushed into the corner. Dante brought up a chat window.

  ***


  “Nobody’s trying to kill us anymore,” Dante typed in the R9C chat app.

  The message popped up in Keerna’s field of vision, and she waved it away. She wasn’t ready to talk at the moment. She’d just used the last of her Mana trying to revive Bertram. The giant lay on the ground like a fleshy pincushion. Keerna stopped counting the arrows that pierced him at fifty.

  “He’s not dead,” Thuglar said, as he stood and trembled. “The body is still here.”

  “The bodies of NPCs don’t fade,” Thornbark felt compelled to remind him, even though it removed the last of his hope.

  They’d fought off several of other players who were looting the body before they got there. Who knows what they got away with.

  “I don’t think killing NPCs kills the brains,” Keerna said. “It can’t, or they’d need hundreds.”

  “Maybe they do have hundreds,” Thuglar said. “This guy was special.”

  “Yeah, he was pretty cool,” a voice said in local chat.

  Whoever said it was close, and had to be cloaked.The team instantly produced weapons and formed a circle around the giant. Keerna cast a quick detection spell, and two figures instantly emerged outlined in purple light. Thornbark nocked two arrows and Thuglar was about to slice into them when both players decloaked.

  “Holy shit!” Driskrol said so loud his voice distorted. “How the hell do you move so fast!”

  Plaknel laughed, said, “They’re the Noble Four. They probably have all kinds of enchanted stuff. Lucky fuckers. Never told us anything…”

  “Why are you sneaking around?” Thuglar asked as he sheathed his dirks.

  “Seriously?” Driskrol asked. “You forgot where you came from already. That’s what our little nameless crew does, remember?”

  Plaknel threw a large, grimy satchel on the ground. “Here ya go. We killed the assholes who stole this. Least we could do.”

  Keerna bent down to examine the item. “It’s Bertram’s satchel,” she said. “And… it’s full!”

  She added the satchel to her inventory and began applying Band-aid after Band-aid. There were hundreds. She split them up among her companions, even Driskrol and Plaknel. “Hurry!” Keerna said.

  “How do you know this will work?” Driskrol asked.

  “You can’t apply healing items to the dead,” Keerna replied.

  “Yeah, but he’s got no health bar…” Plaknel said.

  “Just do it!” Thuglar yelled.

  When all the Band-Aids were applied, they stepped back from the body and waited. Nothing happened. Thuglar handed out mana potions. “If you have any healing spells, use them now.”

  They cast healing spells until their mana and potions ran out. They waited while other players milled about like vultures waiting to fight over the carcass.

  “I don’t like this crowd,” Driskrol said to them over private chat. “We may have to fight them off for the loot.”

  “Look!” Thornbark yelled, pointing at the giant. Blades of grass around his downturned face began to wave.

  Bertram’s back rose up like a grounded hot air balloon. He turned his head to the side with eyes closed. “Bad,” he said. “Bad, not good. Hurt.”

  The arrows faded from his body, but his health read 2%. A beam of healing light shot from the crowd and hit the giant. The health bar rose. More beams shot out from the crowd, lighting bertram aglow with sparkling red streamers. He moaned.

  “Good,” Bertram said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He reached for his satchel and rummaged through it. He pulled out a cabbage and took half of it in one bite. When the other half disappeared, he upended the satchel and dumped out an impossible mound of fruits and vegetables. “Good! Not bad, good!” Bertram said, taking handfuls of food and stuffing them in his mouth.

  “He’s a vegetarian?” Thuglar asked, scratching his head as Bertram’s health bar pushed up past 60%

  As if to answer Thuglar’s question, Bertram suddenly stopped eating. His stomach made a gurgling, squelching sound. He belched. The crowd went wild. Spontaneous dances broke out. Bertram’s stomach sounded its call again, and the giant leaned to one side, lifted a cheek and let loose with flatulence that shook the ground and wilted the grass beneath him.

  Bertram scooped the food back into his satchel and waved his hand in front of his face. “Bad,” he said, and stood. He patted the last of the Noble four on the head, and gave one final pronouncement. “Good,” Bertram said, and walked away towards the waterfall.

  Keerna nearly forgot about Dante’s message. “Same here,” she replied. “Everyone is alive here.”

  “You coming out?” Dante replied.

  “In a few,” Keerna replied.

  “So what now?” Plaknel asked. “That’s what everyone wants to know. You guys seem to have some kind of ‘in’.”

  “War’s over,” Thuglar said. “That’s it.”

  “If that’s it,” Plaknel replied, “people are gonna be pissed off for real. We were promised stuff.”

  Players dotted the rolling hills of the plateau like a vast, wandering herd. Tens of thousands of players remained from the fight. The big question that everyone wanted to know was “what now?” Snatches of chat from people walking by revealed frustration, confusion and anger.

  Keerna brought up her private chat again and asked Dante, “Do you know what Virgil has planned over here?”

  “No. Why don’t you ask him?” Dante replied.

  “Virgil?” Keerna asked aloud. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, Lady Keerna,” Virgil said in voice chat.

  “Is that my title now?” Keerna asked, bemused.

  “It seems the players have chosen it for you.”

  “What’s next?” Keerna asked.

  “What’s he saying?” Thuglar asked. “I can’t hear what he’s saying back.”

  Keerna just shook her head, then asked Virgil in her mind, “The quest is over. The players are waiting for their reward.”

  “I suppose I should announce it, then,” Virgil replied.

  “Yeah. If they don’t get something, they’ll likely leave the Nine Circles and not come back.”

  “We can’t have that,” Virgil replied. Then, the Great Wizard’s voice boomed out across the Plateau. “Honorable players of the Realm and all those who call it home, hear me! You have fought well here today. Those who lived through this battle have earned the privilege to explore a new Circle.

  “Look to the waterfall, and follow the river to the mountains from which the water tumbles. Beneath those mountains you will find dangers dark and deep. If you survive the dungeons long enough, they will lead you to the Sixth Circle.

  “Dear heroes, depart for your fortune!”

  It only took a few seconds for the message to sink in. Players stampeded and converged on the river. Thousands of characters streamed along the banks as if the river itself overflowed. Driskrol and Plaknel shrugged their shoulders and joined the crowd, picking pockets along the way.

  “Only the winners?” Thuglar asked. “The losers are gonna be pissed off.”

  “They will also have their reward,” Virgil replied. “They will be allowed into the Third Circle in two-weeks time. Two weeks after that, the Circle will be open to all.”

  “Does that mean,” Thuglar paused. “We can leave the game and wake up?”

  “Yes,” Virgil said, this time, in a text chat window. “You are free to leave the game.”

  Chapter 29

  Corey Barnes groaned and lifted leaded hands to shade his eyes. It took a few seconds of struggling with obstinate eyeleds for him to see again. He lay on his back on the day bed in the room Morgan let him use as his gaming lair. Someone else was in the room with him.

  “Dank Mike?” Corey asked, alarm making his heart hammer.

  “Yeah, chill,” Mike said. “It’s cool. Just don’t send that Virgil thing after me no more.”

  “What?” Corey asked.

  “I knew you was a super nerd, but damn, that computer thing is s
ome crazy shit.”

  Corey stayed quiet. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but whatever it was, Mike was on the defensive. He didn’t want to disturb the balance.

  “Sure, Mike,” Corey said, sitting up. He moaned again as the stiff muscles of his back reported in.

  “You was asleep for nine hours,” Mike said. “That Virgil thing popped up on your computer and told me to leave you alone and stand guard. It called me on the damn phone, Corey.”

  “Yeah,” Corey said. “It can do that. It’s artificial intelligence.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ fake about it,” Mike said. “But congratulations on the job interview. Nice job on the contest, too.”

  “Wh-what?” Corey said.

  Just then, Morgan appeared in the doorway. The five-year-old Christa peeked around her thigh, hanging on to her sweatpants. “Corey awake yet?” the little girl asked.

  Corey brightened and his spine straightened. “Yeah, peanut,” he said. Christa rushed into his open arms and he scooped her up in a big hug and sat her on his knee.

  Mike’s eyes softened and he looked to the floor. Corey was shocked when Morgan stepped into the room and put her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for looking after him, Mike.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Corey couldn’t help but ask.

  “Mike here said he got worried when you didn’t answer your phone. He came over, found the door unlocked and you passed on on the floor with a bloody nose. As usual, you didn’t read the instructions,” Morgan said. She held several sheets of paper in her hand.

  “No problem, Miss Morgan,” Mike said, using a tone Corey had never heard from him before. “I guess you won’t be needing that painting job no more.”