The Quest (Dark Paladin Book #2) LitRPG Series

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “I’d be the last creature to owe Archibald. This is a level two inertia neutralizer, five hundred kilos per square centimeter. I hope I have surprised you?”

  “Very much so.” No matter how much I was striving to control myself, I had to swallow not to choke from salivating over the offer. Devir presented me with a much coveted award that I had not been able to find at the auction. The soft spot of the energy defense of the players was that it only blocked direct damage, not inertia. So, if some madman bonks you on the head with an ax, the energy shields will prevent the sharp blade from touching your body. However, the force of the blow will not dissipate and your head will still encounter the physics of the game and real worlds, turning the ax into a hefty club. No one supposes that brains would like to live outside the skull, so the player is guaranteed to suffer a respawn despite the coolest protection imaginable. The level two inertia neutralizer would solve this problem. Steve knew very well how to activate the device, so a moment later the box was attached to my belt.

  “You are within your right.” Archibald shrugged, appreciating Devir’s gift and turned to me again: “Are we agreed?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed, accepting the space blocker. “How long should I wait before activating it?”

  “The echoes will appear immediately when we receive the system message. They will need two or three seconds to get their bearings and rush at us, and that’s about the time we need to take the rags out of our pockets. Let’s do it! I am tired of being stuck here.”

  You completed Hall Four of the Reverse of Lecleur Estate. Grandeur +20

  “Archibald forgot to add that you receive experience for each echo you destroy,” Steve’s voice broke the silence that settled over the Reverse. The blocker worked as expected: within a hundred yards everyone turned into statues. Forty three Devirs and – I had a hard time believing it at first – one hundred and eighteen Archibalds. “We will need to specify that experience is an extra bonus in addition to the future present, and is not a present in itself. Shall we begin?”

  “I am the Templar’s blow!” I shouted, hitting the nearest fake Devir. The protection of the frozen figure worked in full and absorbed the blow. The first blow was followed by the second, third, and fourth. Only at the fifth blow did the shield give out, allowing me to get to the robe. Which absorbed the hit, so I had to finish the mage off with the sixth. Even though the experience scale bumped up happily, I once more assessed the amount of work I was facing and sighed heavily. Six blows per Devir took about half a minute. Forty two mages would mean twenty minutes. Archibald would most definitely take longer and I would just physically not have enough time to finish them all off within the time allotted. I sighed once again, and started hitting the nearest fake Archibald. I had no choice!

  What saved me was my proclivity to hoarding and the desire to have some cushion if times got tough. I replaced the six Templar’s blows with the seven eponymous scrolls: thankfully, I had not given them all to Mizardine. That enable me to finish off all the mage’s copies in ten minutes, of which most was taken up by installing the scrolls. Archibald took more work: the scrolls were enough to get rid of just over half of his echoes, and it took twelve blows to kill one fake catorian. I did not even feel any pleasure driving the spikes into yet another cat’s face. I had to do everything quickly and precisely; there was no time at all to enjoy the result. I did not know what Archibald was thinking, embarking on such a risky enterprise and not providing me with some kind of powerful weapon. Devir, apparently, was basically just tagging along without ever thinking how I was going to destroy all the fake ones. Why was the catorian so certain? Practically throughout the entire hour I racked my head over what that was: an unfortunate turn of events for the catorian and therefore such a demonstration of implicit trust in my abilities, or an interactive performance for one actor and spectator accompanied by complete protection against all force-majeure events?

  “Amazing: you made it!” Archibald’s line indicated the end of my hour-long marathon of experience accumulation. I was so tired that I looked at my current level of 73 as if it was something minor and matter of fact.

  “I hear genuine surprise in your voice,” Devir frowned and even shifted his gaze back and forth between me and the cat. I was right: the mage had believed that Archibald was in control of the situation by entrusting me to destroy the echoes, and had no backup plan in case of failure. And Archibald immediately took advantage of that:

  “Well, I have good reason for surprise!” His voice was dripping poison. “The player had barely left the Academy. He has no weapon, no experience, no levels! Nothing at all! He even has just one ability still: the initial one he got back in the Academy! And there you show up and pose him the task of killing forty-two of your precise copies within an hour! We all know your level, Devir; you are better protected than a small tank! Yari, how many blows did it take to kill one mage?”

  “Six,” I said angrily, seeing where Archibald was leading with this, and that I could have not hurried so and enjoyed the process instead. The catorian was in full control of the situation anyway. He had done it successfully one hundred and sixteen times before this.

  “Six blows!” The Paladin even lifted up a claw, “Good thing you had the sense to deactivate your protection and take off the gems, so that your echoes appeared without all of that. Otherwise killing just one of you would have taken Yari forty minutes of working his arms non-stop! But he managed! A great talent, would you agree? I will not even mention my own precious self. I can’t imagine where he found time for all that!”

  “Bastard!” Devir flared, mad not so much with the catorian as with himself for showing himself to be a trusting idiot. “You wanted to set me up?!”

  “Why wanted?” Archibald asked in genuine bewilderment. “I did set you up. Well, actually, no. I just made you share with a promising student of mine some useful thing that he would not have found anywhere else.”

  “Oh: I am a promising student now?” It was now my turn to be sarcastic. “Have I reached the same level as Dolgunata then?”

  “Well… Not quite so promising.” The catorian’s smile was fit to freeze molten rock. “But you did catch up with Sakhray. Any more questions?”

  “What was your backup?” The mage was able to control his emotions. “I admit, I acted foolishly.”

  “Do I finally hear the voice of reason?” Archibald laughed. “Devir, I would like to remind you that you were the one who gave up training with me, while I did not give up on you. So, in fact, you are still my student. I will always have time to kill you later, given enough reason, but the responsibilities that I assumed at one point will not allow me to overlook your carelessness. You were so worried of being indebted to me that you did not bother even attempting to think before trusting me implicitly! Why would you do that? What if he had suddenly become suicidal? Where is your sense of self-preservation and constant awareness of the situation? Don’t even think of justifying it with the Reverse; you will tell these stories about compromise to Yaropolk! Am I supposed to cover your back till the end of the Game? Three thousand years down the drain; I poured so much effort into you, and you still believe every passerby conman, just like Yari! Cut that shit out!”

  Devir looked, stunned, at the back of the catorian, who was assertively striding down the hallway towards the next room. Even though his tone had brimmed with righteous anger and indignation, Archibald’s tail was swishing from side to side joyfully, betraying the Paladin’s excitement. Of course! First Devir had thrown a barb questioning whether Archibald was tough enough to tackle the Reverse, and then Archibald was able to give a tongue-lashing for his naiveté to Devir for thinking himself a seasoned warrior, and in front of others, too. Now they were even.

  We followed the teacher in silence. The catorian moved forward inexorably like a heavy tank crushing enemy lines. Nothing and no one could dampen his good mood. At least that’s what everyone thought until we turned the next corner.

  “G
reat Light!” Devir whispered , as we turned the corner and nearly crashed into the wide back of the catorian, frozen in place in full battle defense. The mage activated his at once, pinning me against the wall. I was trapped flat against it, unable to move, mad at Devir and the uncertain situation. For the last half an hour I had not even bothered by the darkness. I had become used to it, and now could see about a yard or two around me. But that was not enough to see who or what had caused such a reaction in my companions. If it was the Keeper, we were in for quite a welcome. As I was still trying to see something ahead, I heard barely audible cat’s hissing that ordered me to freeze.

  “Kitty!” A pleasant female voice came from the right. “What a big furry kitty! May I pet you, lovely precious?”

  The stranger was talking languidly, with a funny drawl on the vowels.

  “You are dead!” Devir mumbled. “I saw it myself! You were killed by Leguria!”

  “Quiet, mage! I don’t want to talk to you!” Shrill notes appeared in her voice along with open frustration. Suddenly Devir became straight as a rod. His eyes bulged out and then burst. The mage was clawing at his throat, gulping for air. A moment, and despite all his glorious protection Devir was crushed into a large ball. The robe was unable to absorb all the blood, and it pooled on the floor, forming a huge puddle. One of the best headhunters in the game world Earth was destroyed like a tiny insect underfoot. However, Devir did get his wish: he did meet the Keeper; and the greeting he received was rather extraordinary.

  “Oh, hello, Anna!” Archibald immediately dropped his protection and spread his paws in welcome. “Long time no see!”

  “A talking kitty!” There was a cry of admiration, and bright light flooded the corridor. As soon as my momentary blindness passed I was able to see the one who had scared us so thoroughly.

  The Great Warrior, Iven’s second half, the conqueror of Leguria, and Madonna’s only student, turned out to be a miniature sweet woman who would hardly reach the chin of her image in the Hall of Fame. Her short stature did not prevent the lady from sitting regally in the armchair with legs crossed, rocking her foot. One hand was settled on the armrest as Anna was drumming one scarlet fingernail on the polished wood; the other held a glamour magazine. She was staring at the “kitty” with heavy unblinking eyes.

  I glanced around the abode of the Keeper of the Reverse. A comfortable room with bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. There was a laptop, a TV set, a number of paintings and other pleasant and useful things that made it possible to stay in solitude for a long time without any detrimental effects to one’s morale. A telling detail: fresh roses in a vase; there was also a man’s silk robe, draped casually over the back of the other armchair, for guests. I could even guess who was the owner of this pretty robe with the colors similar to a royal mantle.

  “A Paladin kitty. How cute! Why didn’t anyone tell me that it’s possible to get pets like that and assign them the same class as the master?” The warrior frowned in displeasure.

  “Maybe because I don’t have a master?” Archibald snorted and twirled around gracefully on the spot, waving his tail in the air like a banner Had it not been for his armor and weapons, the catorian could have easily passed for a feline. “But I have been dreaming of a mistress my whole life…”

  “What a flatterer you are!” The hostess laughed with a tinkle, and beckoned the catorian towards her with her finger. I stirred, not sure whether to stay where I was or to follow my teacher; that attracted attention. “Is the second Paladin with you or with the mage?”

  “With me.” Archibald sighed, dropped softly on the carpet in front of Anna and purred, as she was unable to resist and scratched him behind the ear. I stayed standing, waiting for direct instructions; already dreading the consequences of observing the scene of my teacher’s humiliation. Archibald would not forget it, and I was sure he would make me pay for this again and again. The delay of the execution for the Paladin, who “knew too much”, that is, me, for an unspecified period of time was the only thing that allayed my worries somewhat; business was the first order of the day. “He’s listed as my student, even though he is quite pitiful at that. He is astonishingly dim-witted. Not really capable of being anything other than a gopher: ‘give me this bring me that, get out of my sight’. I keep him primarily out of pity. He is curious to the point of idiocy, keeps bothering everyone; no sense of self-preservation whatsoever: it’s just so annoying. But you know, he’d just perish without me. Don’t you get distracted – keep petting me!”

  “You are full of surprises, my furry friend. Amazing: a Paladin servant to a Paladin cat without a master! Come in.” With a graceful nod Anna indicated to the dimwit an empty armchair, without bothering to lift her hand from the fur, then fully concentrated on the catorian. “Iven used to bring me kitties some time ago, but they were so small and fragile that they didn’t last long. Then I became bored with that: you just barely get used to one when it croaks on you, so I told him not to bring them any more. I hope you are strong, at least?”

  “Oh, very much so.” Archibald almost closed his eyes with pleasure, and purred even louder.

  “May I say a word?” Archibald’s hint, as he was distracting the woman and capturing most of her attention was loud and clear, so I was trying to carefully understand the lay of the land. Steve had already scanned the books on the shelves and concluded with 90% probability that they had nothing to do with the Game. The pendant was nowhere to be seen. Either Anna did not recognize Archibald, or was perfect at pretending she had amnesia. I was more inclined to believe the former. So the question was: what creature in the Game knows nothing at all about the Game, yet possesses astonishing strength? Crushing Devir into a ball without bothering to get out of the armchair commanded respect. Steve provided the answer at once, and there was plenty of food for thought. She was an echo!

  “Here we go!” The teacher sighed, and rolled his eyes so demonstratively that I really itched to upload an equivalent of “funny cats home video” to the local video hosting site. Regardless of the consequences. He was so good, the bastard, at making one seethe with just a flick of his tail. “A teacher's lot is so hard! Go ahead: my punishment; what help do you need from me this time?”

  “No!” Anna interrupted him harshly. She even stopped stroking the cat, causing him to snort in disapproval. “I am not done talking to you! I forbid you to answer him!”

  “Fine, fine, dear. As you say. I am all yours.” Archibald rubbed against Anna’s leg and purred harder, calming her down. “You can even answer him yourself, if you want. I’m telling you, he’s a twit like no other. He’ll never shut up otherwise. Even so, sometimes it’s funny to listen to him.”

  “Why not. That might be interesting.” The warrior’s echo latched onto the idea. “Let’s play teacher-and-student. Yaropolk! Today I will be your teacher. Go ahead, ask!”

  Such extreme mood swings made me uneasy. I had never had any experience in interacting with beings so unstable.

  “May I ask about anything at all?” I picked words carefully, feeling like I was on top of a powder keg.

  “Right, you may ask anything. But I will only answer those questions I find interesting.” Anna, now charm incarnate, smiled enticingly. “If my kitty and I become bored, I will punish you!”

  Her charm was replaced by hysterical laughter.

  “So then I would rather tell you about the craftiness of my teacher that he demonstrated as making his way through the traps to reach you.” I was fishing for clues. Come on! If it was the little Anna who had deactivated the traps, she would find it interesting. “It was so… fascinating! The deadly rays passed through his shiny fir without doing him any harm, and his feet tapped out an enthralling dance!”

  I even jumped up from the chair, waving my hands in the air and making my intonations as expressive as I could. Anna looked at me sharply and sank her sharp nails into the catorian’s fur.

  “So, you came by the ‘Path of Trials?’ I had thought Iven
sent you to me for entertainment. But it’s even better that way. Everyone he brought was boring. Iven would not let me play with them like with your mage.” Anna laughed again and then fell silent. “I want to hear about this! How many stages have you completed?”

  “Unfortunately, just one, my darling.” The catorian meowed calmly, licking his paw in contemplation. Someone else completed the others before me. Whoever it was, he is worthy of admiration!”

  “Yes, my little kitty! I am the one worthy of admiration – and you as well! Just imagine, there was only one remaining! Just one!” She shouted the last word, then talked loudly and heatedly. “You cannot imagine how many countless times I died! Again and again Iven told me to train, and it continued until I passed a stage. He admired me; he told me that I was the strongest, the unconquerable. And I tried so hard, and trained for hum, and at the end brought him granises as proof that I had completed one more hall…”

  “What does she mean by ‘died again and again?” I was so glad that I was the only one able to hear Steve. “An echo cannot die multiple times!”

  “If she is the Keeper of the Reverse, then, apparently, she can. Like, maybe death in the Reverse does not count.” I offered Steve a hypothesis.

  “And why, did dear Iven not train himself?” Archibald snorted.

  “I was the only one who could see the entrance to the path. Both for Iven and for those whom he brings the path is closed and invisible. But he is very courageous and valiant! He frequently regales me with stories of his heroic deeds!” Archibald's face was no longer concealing his attitude towards the “courage and valiance” of the chief fighter. “Come on, my furry friend, envy is not a worthy feeling. I am sure that you have lots of admirable features. I am already charmed by you. Tell me, how did you, beautiful cat, manage to complete the last stage?”