I frowned, unable to understand his point:
“A slave?” Bernard’s gesture of good will did not look so good any more.
“Yes. Lumpen was a great player of his era. One of those who made his own rules rather than following someone else’s. He created powerful artifacts similar to this book. They provided strength to his allies and killed his opponents. But Lumpen never was a philanthropist. Each copy of the book like this one made its carrier a slave, a channel for Lumpen’s will No one could gainsay their master. However, having lost a part of themselves, those who carried the book received power and Darkness.”
“Did Lumpen survive the restart?”
“His power was tremendous, but he was not all-powerful. He was not among those who survived to enter the new era. Lumpen died unconquered.”
“If he is dead, what’s the danger in his books?” I steered the train of the old guy’s thoughts to the track I needed.
“Lumpen’s books have started to look for new owners, and this is very dangerous. This plague of his may spread throughout the world yet again at the speed of light! The previous era was the era of the heyday of pain and suffering. The point of life was to ‘kill another or die yourself’. At first players joined forces and fought as clans, but having killed all their enemies the allies started killing each other. The entire Game was plunged into Darkness, and Lumpen put quite a fair effort into that. The ones who were left forgot that there used to be Light, so the Emperor returned sense to the incarnations of Madonna and Merlin, and the Game itself initiated the transition to the new era. Now the equilibrium has become fragile again, and any disturbance would lead to an imbalance."
“Did you say Madonna and Merlin? But what about the third participant of the restart? Did he die as the eras were changing?” I hung on this topic which interested me like a pit bull.
“Unfortunately he did not. The founders of the Game made a mistake by granting all five participants of the change of the eras free will and the right to choose. You are already aware of four restarts, as you call them, and in only one case did all three fully complete their mission. In the other cases the third participant survived.
“Which automatically triggered the next change of era.” I looked at the old guy pensively. “Because the world turned out not to be the way it was initially designed. How much time passed between the changes? The Game has been in existence for 75 thousand years in total. How much time passed before it restarted the first time?”
“Sixty one thousand years.” The old guy delayed his answer to the last. “Five thousand before the second. Four till the third. Three till the fourth.”
“And there will be two till the fifth which is the next. It takes less and less time with every new one for the Game to degrade into chaos. Why is it so?”
“A mistake of the founders. Free will and freedom of choice for the restart participants. The resources of the Game are not infinite, and during the change of the eras a lot is ceded to the discretion of the chosen five. They are the ones to decide what the next world will be like.”
“Why? Why does such an honor befall some random players?”
“None of those involved in the change are random. Only the Keymaster can open the path to the heart of the Game. Only the Guide can bring everyone together and guide them there. Only the seed of the Nameless can conceive the new world. He has to give himself totally in order for the world to be wholesome. Only the womb of Madonna can bear the world. She also has to give all of herself in order to produce a wholesome world. Only Merlin can deliver it and breathe life into the world. Again, he should not spare himself in order for the world to be harmonious. None of those participating in this process were ever random. Everything is predetermined, except for one thing: free will and freedom of choice. The Nameless has not given himself fully for three restarts already.”
“And the Nameless is…” I repeated after the Keeper, but had no time to continue.
“This is classified information.” The Keeper indifferently curbed my curiosity. “Are you satisfied with the completeness of the answers?”
Justly considering that I had received a lot more than I could have counted on, I nodded to the old man.
“Why are you entering into this deal? If these brochures are so dangerous you could simply impound them.”
“That would be against the rules. A player could lose potential benefits. Do you agree to voluntarily turn in the book of Lumpen, and in exchange receive the right to ask two additional questions during each visit? For an explorer it’s quite a worthy reward.”
“Well, that might me true,” I mumbled. “But I am afraid that would not be enough to compensate me for the advantages I would have received from using the artifact. Moreover, that could be potentially problematic for me.”
“Even so?” The old man pursed his lips. “Please clarify that.”
“How would I explain to my suzerain that I gave away his present to you? He could be… offended. That’s one. Second, the book would turn me into a true Dark one, increasing my Darkness level to one hundred, which is extremely important to me at this stage. Knowledge, of course, can be a deadly power, but not against the opponents I am facing.”
“Worried about your suzerain’s feelings? Commendable. But what about the slave’s mark that was his present to you?” The Keeper smirked.
Bastard, he did get the last word, after all. But I decided to bargain to the end:
“The vassalage oath already makes me his slave quite legitimately, so I don’t see anything particularly awful about that. So, if you want to get the book – offer me something more substantial.”
“Fool,” the old man noted dryly, and added after a brief silence: “We are extending the same offer of two extra questions and adding to it a treatise ‘Shazal’ that was written already in this era. Activating the said treatise and including it in your Book of Knowledge will bring up your Darkness level to the 100 you so desire. You will become a true Dark one without the slave’s mark, while Bernard would think that you had used his gift. We would be able to breathe easy. Everyone wins. Almost everyone, but that will be our small secret.”
“Now that’s an enticing offer,” I smiled, and decided to make sure: “Gromana really wanted to receive this book, despite all those scary things you were saying about loss of one’s will.”
“Don’t compare yourself to Gromana, Dark one.” A smile appeared on the old man’s face. “Gromana lived during Lumpen’s time. She was part of his army. She enjoyed and worshipped the time of the Dark ones. Only her weakness and lack of a sufficient Dark force became the deciding factor in including her on the list of players in this new era. It was important to keep a balance. She wants the book not in order to activate it, but it is dear to her as a memory. As a symbol. We repeat our question – do you agree to the exchange?”
“I agree.” Pleased with myself, I extracted the book and offered it to the old man. He did not move, but the book shimmered and disappeared straight from my hand.
“Shazal treatise.” The familiar coffee table appeared next to me; on it there was a hefty dark volume. A far cry from some flimsy brochure. “Study and activate it. You will become a true Dark one. We are ready to answer two of your questions.”
“Who are the incarnations of Merlin and Madonna?” Not as though I really believed it would work, but I did have to try. I was not losing anything by doing it.
“Unfortunately, this is also classified information. The Creator has specified that it is forbidden to disclose it. And, as I anticipate your next question, the name of the Creator is classified information as well.”
“Even of those two who are not involved any more?” I grinned, demonstrating my knowledge.
“Even for them,” the worker of the Temple of Knowledge smiled back. “The names of the erstwhile Creators will tell you nothing. You have not heard them, either in your current life or in your previous one.”
“Does the Creator transition from one era to another in
the same way as the rest of the players? Or is there some kind of special procedure for them?” I would not give up trying to find a gap in their defenses.
“No special procedures. He acted in the same way as everybody else. The rules of the Game are the same for everyone, even for its creator.”
“In that case I would like to receive the list of all players who transitioned from one era to the next. All transitions. All players.”
“There is no restriction on that information.” The old man was thinking hard, scratching his beard. “Each list contains up to several million records. Are you sure that you want to spend time on this?”
“Absolutely!” The longer the old man stalled, the more certain I became that my inquiry was the right one. “My first question is the list of all players who transitioned from one era to another, with a breakdown by eras.”
“There is a limit on the quantity of information…,” the Keeper started, but I cut him off:
“We are not discussing a standard inquiry! We reached an agreement – it’s too late to backpedal. Or do the workers of the Temple of Knowledge not follow the rules of the Game?”
“The information you are seeking is in those volumes.” My interlocutor started as soon as I brought up the question of following the rules; so, there were no more delays. “Study them. Given the specifics of the situation, the level of your artifact will not increase. For you the information from these volumes will remain just information and nothing else.”
Four weighty volumes materialized on the coffee table.
“It is not allowed to take them outside of the Temple of Knowledge. However, there is no limit on the time you spend here. Study, compare, draw conclusions. We shall be waiting for your second question.”
“We’ll do it!” Steve, who was gradually developing a distinctive personality, assured me. “Bring it on! I will analyze it! Don’t worry about the experience points, we’ll level up on the analysis later!”
Boring lists of names, race and game worlds made me want to yawn, and inspired no enthusiasm whatsoever. In Bernard’s library books had figures, diagrams and the text made sense, while here nothing caught my eye. Page after page of names were flowing into my artifact, and soon the list felt like just a jumble of letters. I attempted to keep count of the most common names just to keep myself entertained, but that stopped working fairly soon as well. My brain refused to assimilate vast volumes of monotonous information no matter how much I tried to force it. Steve was my only hope.
Once I turned the last page of the last volume it felt as though I had been through punishment for all the lessons in school I’d skipped. The dumb work was now done.
“Complete analysis will take me a couple of days,” Steve was working for two, processing the information he had received. “Preliminary results will be ready in a few hours.”
“You may still ask another question,” the worker of the Temple of Knowledge reminded me.
“Sure, just a moment,” I squeezed my eyes hard several times, fighting the drowsiness that was washing over me.”What would happen if I were to bring together the entire set of jewelry which includes the pendant of the Lecleurs? That’s the object temporarily borrowed by Iven, the head of the family.”
“Do you mean the ‘Joy’ set?” The old man clarified, and I had to risk agreeing with that name. Until now no one ever named the set this way.
“The set was created by the last incarnation of Madonna for her only student – Anna the Great. When all components are collected, it surrounds the carrier with a permanent shield which blocks thirty percent of any damage.”
“Is that it?” I asked again, discouraged, as I had never expected such a simple answer. “It has no additional properties, nothing else?”
“Initially that was the only property of the full set. It was not a strong artifact so much as a token of care and attention,” the old man confirmed.
“Does the word ‘initially’ means that the properties were changed later?”
“That’s question number three. We clarified to make sure which set you had in mind.” The old man shrugged. “The set used to be called ‘Joy’ and had a certain set of properties. Now it has a different name and different properties. We have answered your questions in full. It’s time for you to go back.”
The space around me shifted, returning me to the herald’s dwelling. Angry at myself for the slip with the name, I peeked out the window and snorted. The same players with the net that I had seen before were running around the inner courtyard of the estate.
“This is my house!” Sleevan was shouting indignantly, but in vain. Someone insolent and booming commanded loudly from the porch:
“Shut your kisser before you catch one in it, and get out of the way! Surround the house, the marker shows he’s in there! Get lost, I tell you!”
I hid behind the curtains so that it would be impossible to notice me from the outside, and I saw Sleevan thrown from the porch in a cloud of dust. The herald’s face looked badly bruised. He tried to get up, but fell back, cradling his unnaturally twisted right hand.
“Ready! Door! Four at the entrance, the rest go in! The granis will be ours!”
Invisibility concealed me before a dozen or so players rushed into the room. The door was shut at once, blocking the way out for me, and four of the intruders rushed into the next room. One of those remaining took out a large bag and looked around mockingly. He could not see me, but the information on his PDA clearly indicated that I was close. Apparently someone had managed to tag me with a tracer!
“What, Paladin, you decided that you are immortal now?” The player shoved his hand into the bag, thrust it out and shook in front of himself, spreading white powder in the air. Flour! “Never fear! We’ll show you right at once where you’re wrong.”
I was standing near the wall watching the white cloud approach and vainly trying to think of something to counteract such a simple solution. Not waiting for the flour to settle on my armor, revealing my location for all to see, I cast a glance in the direction of Sleevan, who still was not able to get up, and three scrolls with the “Templar’s Blow” were deploying towards the enemy in order to destroy everything living and moving within the room five seconds later. My protection took a hefty blow; I heard it squeak from a fast drop in Energy, but the main purpose was reached: out of the six players who had been in the room, only the ringleader survived as he fumbled at the door and therefore avoided the blast. My artifact settled in my hand with a familiar feel. I activated the spikes. A momentary confusion sent the leader for respawn: I was not going to wait for him to react to my impressive approach, jumped on him and drove the spikes straight into his face, shredding his protection. Gems and enhancements rule!
“What’s up?” The remaining four emerged from the next room only to follow their pals a moment later. “The Templar’s Blow” ignored the initial level defense, and as soon as I touched their body they exploded in a rain of bloody giblets across the room. As for the last player, I did not kill him at once, as I recognized he had been the one beating Sleevan. I toppled him onto the floor, sat on top of him and shattered his kneecaps with one hard blow. I felt no pity for my opponent: once you go hunting you should be prepared for the possibility that you might turn into a quarry yourself. I set up the crystal for receiving emotions and drove the spikes into the shoulder of the guy, whose eyes rolled in pain and shock. I twisted the spikes in the wound. The player’s endurance was not so great: he was ready to swoon like a girl on her first date. I pulled the spikes out of his shoulder and patted him on the cheeks mildly. As soon as consciousness appeared in his eyes, together with terror, I drove the spikes in again. In a Light word a Dark player needs to learn to take care of himself, his life and his Energy replenishment. I am far from being a Santa Claus, bringing joy and happiness to those who behaved well. I am a Paladin bringing pain and suffering to morons who behaved badly and threaten the NPCs with whom I have my own business. Sleevan could not do anything against the
players, and this wriggling scum knew that. I, however, could.
The player squealed and wriggled, but could not throw me off. Deciding that his other limb was too much of a distraction for me, I pierced his other shoulder as well. It was odd, but my victim’s emotions were not flowing to me like a river; I was just getting meager crumbs. Energy was leaking out into space and I could not understand why. I simply did not have enough knowledge and experience. Right!
I grabbed the “Shazal” treatise with my free hand and several times agreed with various system warnings to the effect that I should know, accept and assume full responsibility for whatever I will do in the future. Having plowed through a multitude of informational messages and agreements I made it to the final “OK”, and, now without hesitation, accepted the gift of the Temple of Knowledge. Enough! It was time to make up my mind once and for all in this game!
You have reached the Darkness allegiance cutoff value
Another second went by as I read the information on this long-awaited event; then I found myself once again within Sleevan’s house. At first I had to screw my eyes, getting used to the new appearance of the game world. But even then I was quickly able to identify the source of my discomfort. All objects acquired an additional green bar, notifying me of Energy available for acquisition, as well as ownership by their protector. All the space around me was in the possession of a player named Jesus.
Returning to my victim I noticed a similar bar and indicator of ownership. However, unlike inanimate objects, the player had an additional scale: “Faith limit”. Its value was wobbling like a cocktail in a bartender’s shaker and every time it dropped below a certain threshold, I received a crumb or two of Energy. The spikes pierced the shoulder again and I, following my intuition, reinforced the process with words:
“So your god is not helping you. Have you forgotten that there are no gods in the Game? There are only high level players, but they are far away now and nobody can hear you. You are mine alone! And your soul is mine as well! I will drink it whole and you won’t even get a respawn! You will become my slave!”
The Quest (Dark Paladin Book #2) LitRPG Series Page 24
