Realm of the Nine Circles: The Grind: A LitRPG Novel

by P. Joseph Cherubino

  His teleport target set him down in the middle of the forest path not too far from the site of his last kill. Kalmond drew his axe just to be ready and to feel the weapon in his hands.

  “Is fine weapon, no?” Boris said from somewhere in the trees.

  “Gah!” Kalmond said with a start. “You again…”

  “What did you expect, young pansy-dwarf,” Boris said. “You possess sum total of my arcane knowledge.”

  Kalmond looked around but still could not see the ghost. He spoke into the trees. “I hope there’s something in there about banishing ghosts.”

  “There may well be,” Boris replied, appearing inches from Kalmond. “But you would have to be smart enough to read it first.”

  Kalmond growled and walked right through the ghostly dwarf and headed back down the hill to the Village of Dundree. Boris would not stop droning on about past adventures and stories about all the custards he ate at his favorite inns of fifty years past. Apparently, Boris loved custard and missed it bitterly in his death.

  “If I get you a fucking custard,” Kalmond whirled and shouted, “will you go away?”

  “You can bring me custard very soon because that ash ape is about to kill you,” Boris said.

  “Damn you!” Kalmond bellowed as he turned to block the alpha ape as it raised both gray arms above its head for a double-fist hammer punch.

  The Dwarf countered with a well-placed kick straight to the ape’s crotch. It’s eyes crossed as it collapsed to the ground clutching its privates. Kalmond finished it with a clean decapitation while it curled up on the ground. By that time, three other apes had him surrounded. They pounced at once.

  The living dwarf cursed the dead one as he blocked two blows successfully, but took worrying damage from the second. “Damn you!” Kalmond bellowed again.

  “Focus, pansy Dwarf!” Boris bellowed. “Do not blame me for lack of concentration.”

  Kalmond saw red. He activated his power attack and kept it on, tearing through the remaining apes until they were bloody rags on the ground. His savage fight brought him an even 345 points. That would have made him happy if not for Boris and his constant yammering. He resolved to ignore his childish ghost companion the rest of the walk. It wasn’t easy. By the time he got to the village, he’d ignored enough tall tales to fill a self-published novel.

  Kalmond pulled up his quest log, doing his best to block out the stream of words that poured over his shoulder. He needed to hand in quests to four people: the alchemist, the pretty clothier, the brute of an armorer and, he saw as he skimmed the details, the journal would need to be taken to the Matriarch.

  “Shit,” Kalmond said. “That’s lucky. I didn’t check the journal quest details.”

  “Hey! Watch your language. There are pretty ladies in street,” Boris admonished.

  Kalmond jerked his head up at the mention of ladies. To his delight, one of the quest givers was just stepping into the street ahead.

  “Clothier!” he called. The lass turned around, her face lighting up as she waved.

  “You devil! Might be some hope for you after all!” Boris said gleefully behind Kalmond.

  “Clothier, I have your silkworms.” Kalmond took the small pouch out of his inventory. That earned him 270 XP.

  Clothier threw her arms around Kalmond, pressing her warm body against him for the briefest of moments before taking the worms. Their height difference made the exchange soft and pleasant. “Oh, how wonderful! Here, take this silk scarf as a token of my thanks.” The scarf was worth 90 circs and wearing it gave him +3 to luck, making criticals more likely.

  Clothier looked at him from beneath her long, thick eyelashes. “Actually, do you think you could do me another favor? I need some pansies to dye my cloth.”

  Kalmond ignored the loud snort in his ear and nodded eagerly. Another quest notice scrolled by in the corner of his eye: Retrieve the purple pansies.

  “Oh, thank you!” Clothier gushed.

  Kalmond, still blushing from the feel of her body on his, just grinned. He watched, speechless, as she skipped away.

  “Oh, you insipid little daffodil! That is not how you treat woman. If you want girl, you must show her you are dwarf!” Boris thumped his chest. “I will show you. Go find woman and I tell you what to say. You will woo her with words of romance, like…” He paused, then erupted into rhyme. “There once was a dwarf from Venus. In battle, he was meanest. If a lass came along singing a song, he sang the song back with his—”

  “Stop!” Kalmond barked, drawing an odd look from a farmer wandering past. “No more, dammit.” Kalmond made a snap decision. “That’s it; you’re out of here. I’m going to hand this stupid journal back now, and you can fuck off back where you came from.”

  Boris chuckled. “Do not fret. Give it some time; you will grow big balls like real dwarf. Then, you take woman on your own.”

  Kalmond stomped past the inn and almost ran past the alchemist in his haste to make it to the far side of the village. He was so focused on ignoring the still-warbling ghost that he ran head first into a broad, hard surface. As he turned his eyes up, it was all he could do to stifle the groan.

  “Bear dwarf!” Well, at least the armorer seemed to be in a better mood. Kalmond’s nostrils tickled and he realized that Armorer was, by the smell of him, drunk. “You lived?”

  “I see I am not only one surprised at your continued existence,” Boris said loudly. It seemed Kalmond was the only one who could hear the ghost’s blather, for Armourer didn’t react.

  “Here are your skins.” Kalmond tossed them at the big human, irritation overshadowing the satisfaction of seeing his XP bar jump 345 points.

  “You did it!” Armourer clapped Kal on the back, sending him stumbling a few steps down the street. Armorer yelled after him. “Come back later for your reward. Fine armor takes time.”

  “Better be some bloody good armor,” Kal muttered. Then, he groaned as the stooped little gray-haired figure stepped into his path.

  “Bear Dwarf!” the alchemist called. “Did you succeed in your task?”

  “Yes, Alchemist.” Kalmond put the lichen into the old man’s trembling hands. The XP bubble showed another 230 XP. He was on a roll.

  Kalmond turned and grinned at the transparent dwarf as a stream of light shot down, and a gong sounded.

  Kalmond the stone dwarf

  Level 9

  XP 7547

  STA 26

  STR 24

  INT 23

  AGI 24

  CHA 24

  MAN 21

  MLVL 456

  Hit Points 8082

  “Oh, wonderful. I have a little something for you here somewhere.” Alchemist kept talking as he patted down his pockets, searching for Kalmond’s quest reward, then withdrew a small potion bottle. Kalmond examined the potion while the Alchemist rambled on about the weather. The potion restored all health and poison damage and gave a +5 bonus to strength, making it an excellent prize.

  “You know,” the Alchemist said, and Kalmond focused on him again. “There is perhaps another thing you might help me with. You see, I was reading a book, one that I borrowed from a colleague. Cranky old thing he is, but he is a friend. We met…”

  “Oh for sake of Odin,” Boris said, incredulity etched across his face. “Does he never stop with the talking? He misplaced his point five minutes ago!”

  “I think that’s the first time since we met that I agree with you, Boris,” Kalmond muttered.

  Kalmond interrupted the old man’s soliloquy just as he was detailing a story about an old friend, a tavern they’d gone to, and something about darts. “I’m in a hurry. Do you have another task for me?”

  Alchemist nodded, crestfallen. His creased face gave Kalmond a twinge of guilt. “I need some water. Not just any water—it must come from a water sprite. Did you know that…oh. Of course, you’ve no time for stories from an old thing like me.” Alchemist gave a weak laugh. “Just follow the map. Farewell!”

  Before
Kalmond could speak, Alchemist turned and shuffled away.

  “You jerk. You deserve to drown in sprite water for upsetting old man,” Boris said.

  “What? You’re the one who said—” Kalmond threw up his hands and stormed away. He would not speak to the insolent spirit again.

  Thankfully, he reached the matriarch without further interruption. He barged into her hut without knocking.

  “Bear Dwarf? Can I help you?” She sat at a small table, Urseon spread out beside her by a small fireplace. The big bear opened one eye, fixed Kalmond with it, and the corner of his mouth turned up in what could only be described as a smile. The smiling, talking bear went back to sleep. Kalmond shook off the impression that the bear grew more human every time they met.

  “You can take this stupid journal off me, that’s what you can do.” Kalmond slammed the leather bound book on the table.

  Matriarch reached out and slowly ran her fingers over the cover. “Boris?” she said, her voice soft.

  “Yes. Boris the stone dwarf,” Kalmond growled.

  Matriarch sighed. “Quite typical of his kind, the surly old bastard.” Despite her words, she smiled. Kalmond could have sworn her eyes were wet. “Thank you for bringing this to me, but I cannot keep it.”

  Warring between empathy for the visibly upset woman and pure rage at the suggestion his quest was not complete, Kalmond simply stood there.

  “Here.” She thrust it into his hands. “You have brought me the journal. It has told me what I need to know… that Boris is… well. You should have this. He would want it to go to one of his own kind.” As she spoke, an XP bubble drifted up and faded out, reading 138 XP.

  “Own kind?” Boris exclaimed, drifting between Kalmond and Matriarch “Oh, stupid woman! Just because woman is soft in bed, does not mean she has brain in head. He is not stone dwarf! He is pansy!”

  “If I accept the journal, will it complete my quest?” Kalmond asked her. She nodded, sadly, but Kalmond just grinned. He was surprised when Boris smiled in return. Then, Boris faded into nothing.

  “I… oh. That was easy.” Kalmond looked around, half expecting the cranky old beast to jump back out and start hurling abuse again. When he didn’t, a sliver of disappointment needled Kal. He distracted himself from the odd sensation by peeking over the Matriarch’s shoulder. A ledger, filled with marks and tallies sat on the table. At the bottom of the page, ‘two moons’ was scrawled in heavy ink.

  “Two moons?” Kalmond asked.

  Matriarch sighed and gestured for him to sit. “Do you remember our discussion when we adopted Urseon, Bear Dwarf?”

  “Yes,” Kalmond said. “You’re low on food. The crops are failing.” He swallowed as the significance of the words sank in. If the water problem was not solved, the ledger showed the town would last but two months.

  “It is getting worse. Something is affecting our crops, and all that it could be is our water. We have ruled out every other possibility, except perhaps a curse from the wood spirits themselves. All our streams come from the north, by the ruins of an old town now overrun by kobolds. Darkwell, the town was called.”

  “You think the town has something to do with the bad water?” Kalmond asked.

  Matriarch shook her head. “Not directly, but something has happened up there. The kobolds are spreading out, reaching further south. There have been sightings as close as a day’s ride away. We’ve had people go missing, too.”

  Kalmond blew out a slow breath. “I’ll go find the source of the bad water,” he said. The quest popped up, and he confirmed it, despite the red number fifteen that denoted its level. He would just have to make sure he killed every moving thing on the way north.

  “Thank you, Bear Dwarf.” The matriarch clasped his hand. Hers was thin and wrinkled, but strong. “Thank you.”

  The matriarch organized a horse to speed Kalmond’s journey. He pulled himself up with a foot planted firmly in the stirrup. The old nag was no thoroughbred, but she was strong and sturdy and had a wide saddle that made Kalmond feel like he was sitting in an armchair. He picked up the reins, and before he formed the words “let’s go,” the horse took off at a gallop.

  “So this is fast travel in immersion mode,” Kalmond said, enjoying the world as it streaked and blurred as if he passed through a semi-transparent tunnel. The horse took him on a whirlwind tour of the Third Circle on their way to the quest area.

  Along the way, he witnessed unguarded moments of game world creatures and many other questers engaged in various activities from fighting monsters and sometimes, each other. He was disturbed to note several players wore the horned icon indicating loyalty to Mylos. The questers were disturbingly close to the town. It wouldn’t be long until someone stumbled upon the little place.

  The horse stopped at the edge of the quest area, and Kalmond dismounted. His steed disappeared in an instant. He hoped to reach level ten during this quest chain, so he could get a teleport credit, the ability to trade, and more importantly, pick his calling. As a rogue, he had two choices: assassin or thief.

  Both callings gave an instant +2 melee bonus. He’d already stumbled into improving his melee skills by punching a viper in the face at level one. Kicking or punching opponents in battle also helped improve that skill. The realm rewarded adventurers for repeated use of certain techniques, so he already had a good melee foundation

  Choosing a calling always changed the nature of quests given by the dynamic quest engine. Both rogue classes tended towards situations that centered on finesse, more than direct conflict. But even so, having such a significant melee bonus meant that mixing it up was not necessarily unproductive.

  Assassin would give him a +1 to ranged attacks as well as a +1 to traps, something that would be useful in a run-and-fight scenario when faced with a higher-level opponent. But being a stone dwarf meant that he could take a lot of damage. And the bonuses to traps and ranged came at the expense of a -2 to two-handed weapons.

  That pretty much clinched it for Kalmond. Choosing thief meant that he could have the best of both worlds. He could keep a decent two-handed bonus by virtue of his stone dwarf strength while getting the +2 to melee. He would be able to get close to the enemy, then stay close and deliver damage with fists and weapons both. He hadn’t played like that before, so the prospect of doing so had much appeal.

  Checking his map, he headed out in the direction of the pulsing marker for the closest side quest for the Alchemist’s water. For that, he’d have to trek through the thick woods where there was no path. He unslung his axe to keep it ready and fully expected to hear Boris say something annoying.

  “God help me,” Kalmond muttered. “I miss that jackass.”

  He didn’t see the tree goblin until it leaped from a tree trunk like a fat, grotesque squirrel. It bounded, once then again. On its second leap, Kalmond drew back his foot and punted the little goblin like a football. It tumbled head over heel, shrieking along the way, and Kalmond charged after it.

  The goblin attacked with a nasty looking dagger that took the Dwarf’s HP bar down a notch, then made it sink by more than a quarter with poison damage. The toxin slowed Kalmond down, but he scored a decent hit with a left-hand swing, followed up by a critical backswing that finished the job neatly. The goblin gurgled black blood from its mouth and died from a gruesome wound to its chest, all to the tune of 100 XP earned. Looting the body gave him 80 circs, a crude poison dagger, and kobold tooth necklace.

  A bit further down the path, two more goblins attacked, and the fight took him down by half before he activated his power attack and held it. A red veil drew across the world, turning the green leaves black and all enemies blood red. Time seemed to slow while his axe left a trail of silver light as it chopped and slashed. When it was all over, pieces of goblin littered the forest floor and entrails hung from the low branches. Experience point bubbles floated away from the corpses, some of which still twitched. He had tallied about 400 points before he lost count.

  Rage Machine, level 2�
��sustained power attacks have a 25% chance of scoring critical hits. 115 XP

  The text scrolled across his field of view as normal colors returned. Kalmond held up the dripping axe to his face and giggled, then turned to the carnage all around.

  “Wow! I’m a psychopath,” he remarked.

  The bodies yielded more kobold tooth necklaces, 150 circs, three crude poison daggers and four unidentified herbs. He kept it all and wondered why these goblins had so many kobold tooth necklaces. He ate what food he had left, mostly raw meat and berries until his health rose up far enough to make him feel confident.

  He moved through the forest towards the marker feeling much better about his status. Moving towards level 10 always brought more abilities, but from here, the levels would get progressively harder to reach. He could look forward to fighting more for his XP.

  Soon, he came upon a broad creek studded with mossy stones. He tested one out with his leather boot and found good purchase. The second rock sent him down into the cold water in the blink of an eye, taking a disturbing divot out of his health bar. He clawed his way back to the shore cursing and lamenting the loss of time.

  The dwarf searched upstream for some stones that looked less slick. Once again, he the first rock gave good traction, and the second rock sent him flying. When the same thing happened downstream, he decided to look for another angle. Trying to swing across the creek on a vine sent him right into the water again.

  Normally, he would enjoy the challenge of trying to figure out a situation like this. But he had less than a week to level up high enough to reach the dungeons to the sixth circle. He could not afford to spend it dicking around. But this was the nature of the Realm. Being pissed off about it wouldn’t help, he decided.

  “Think, Dwarf, think,” Kalmond mumbled to himself, much like Boris would have. It was then that he decided to take a look at the large boulder where he stopped to cross upstream.