A Jump into the Unknown (Reality Benders Book #5) LitRPG Series

by Michael Atamanov

  “Yes, that is indeed true. But as I already said, the German Human-6 Faction has joined Relict in its entirety, and they had just a hair shy of one thousand one hundred players. Beyond that, my faction has taken on around fifty players from the Human-3 Faction, the Geckho, Miyelonian, and Jarg races as well as two extraterrestrial branches of the human race: Tailax and the Gilvar Syndicate. But regardless, the basis is made up of people from the magocratic world, and specifically natives of the First Directory. And I rule over these people not only in the game but also in the magocratic world, so a Sio-Mi-Dori antigrav cannot take off from one of our airports without me knowing. That was why I was very surprised to hear about your ‘restless neighbor’ who you don’t know what to expect from. And I was even more shocked to hear you openly discussing plans for war with my faction.”

  “Well, that is the reason we’re having this meeting. To review all possible ways the game could unfold and make decisions, perhaps even very difficult ones,” objected a buff manly man wearing a Hero of the Russian Federation star on his dark civilian jacket.

  It took a bit of doing, but I was able to read his full name, the agency he represented, and some other information that was best left unsaid even here in a room in the Onega-3 complex, which was shielded against possible bugs. Anyhow, I wasn’t about to go running into trouble, so I suppressed the urge to showily address him by name and rank.

  “Let me save you some time and explain everything. In terms of military might, the Relict Faction is one of the strongest on the virtual Earth, perhaps even the strongest. our economy is advanced, and can provide our army everything it needs from provisions to assault antigravs, laser rifles and heavy exoskeleton armor. We have direct access to the Geckho space port and can purchase any kind of weaponry in space, even the most advanced. We also have the financial capability to make such purchases. We have three combat starships, a large army and, as I said before, a virtually limitless ability to take on new recruits. But that isn’t even the most important part. Two of our nodes are guaranteed safe by humanity’s all-powerful suzerains, the Geckho. So no faction on the virtual planet whether acting alone or as part of a large alliance, will be able to defeat us. I am currently saying all this not in order to rattle sabers or threaten you. Not at all. In fact, I want to cool down all the hotheads I’ve heard speak today. I also would like to remind you that I gifted a Geckho safety guarantee to the Human-3 Faction’s capital node. So even in theory, our factions could never fight to the point of annihilation. And so I say we put an end to this topic once and for all!”

  By that point, I was not expecting approval, but maybe at least a reduced degree of dismay. But I got nothing of the sort. Strange. Obviously I wasn’t taking into account the specific reality of the room: to the curators of the Dome, the very idea that they had lost control over the situation and that someone was progressing successfully without their knowledge was categorically unacceptable.

  I was asked to talk about the political structure of the Relict Faction – where did it get such a strange name, and whose side was it on in the stand-off between our world and the magocratic one? Which country was supporting it? I was very excited, because that was a right-minded question and I finally had a chance to get my ideas through to these people.

  As for the name, I didn’t editorialize or get bogged down in the details. I just told them the game system suggested it because my character is famed as an investigator of ancient races, and I picked it.

  After that, I got to the most important part: the answer to a question I was asked long ago, and which I had finally found an answer to via Valeri from the Prelates of Tailax and leaders of the Meleyephatian Horde behind them. When the tong of immunity ran out, the bifurcated space of our parallel worlds would synchronize and the only version of the planet that would remain would be whichever one controlled more nodes in the game that bends reality. Thus, if the factions of our Earth controlled less than fifty percent of the game nodes in one year and a half, our version of the planet had a chance of disappearing without a trace. The only survivors would be those in virt pods during the end of the tong of safety. And those players would have to seek out a new faction urgently or they risked turning into NPC’s. Naturally, the same went for the magocratic world and its players.

  Everyone in the room fell silent. The only sound was the quiet hum of a fan. Yes, it was shocking information, and not easy to digest.

  “Does that mean we can expect an implacable war of annihilation?” came a question after nearly thirty seconds of silence.

  “War is the most obvious way of keeping everything we hold dear. But I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily the right way, either. In fact, I’d say it’s wrong on its face. Because there is another way: we could save both versions of our world. To do that, the dominant faction on the virtual planet has to be one with broad representation from both worlds. In that case, both planets will be spat out into the real world on opposite phases of the same orbit. And that is precisely the goal I am pursuing in the game. Making it a reality is the very purpose of the Relict Faction. But it must be noted that it will create two inhabitable planets, making both vulnerable to space invaders. Even one inhabitable planet is a juicy target for aggressive space polities. But two...” I shook my head in doubt. “We wouldn’t stand a chance at peaceful existence. Someone would attack for certain. The Trillians, Meleyephatians, Cleopians, Esthetes... The list of potential enemies is long. And I wouldn’t cross our Geckho suzerains off it.”

  “Do you really think the Geckho would turn against us?” came shouts of surprise.

  “Yes, they might. In the past, their race has simply taken planets they were obliged to defend. And when I asked directly about the Geckho’s further plans for Earth, Viceroy Kosta Dykhsh started to threaten me and forcefully ordered me never to raise the topic with him again. But that is still a distant problem. For now, we need to solve more pressing issues. First of all, I am interested in getting more players from our world to restore the balance in my faction, and would be happy to accept as many as fifteen thousand.”

  I was intending to spend a long time telling them about my Relict Faction: the grand construction of the planetary shield, the search for locations for the other eleven generators, the germ of an Earth space flotilla, the desire to receive help from other factions. After all, I shouldn’t be pulling this whole sleigh on my own! But I was cut off midword, demanding I stick to the facts and also that I “cease the unwelcome propagandizing of a foreign faction.”

  The next question was about finances. How did the Relict Faction get such enormous monetary resources, that they can order goods to be delivered from space, and afford to pay good wages to thousands of living players and NPC’s working on two grand construction projects?

  “Trophies from the space war between the Geckho and Meleyephatians, which my team took active part in. Trophies stolen from the treasure vault of a group of space pirates on Medu-Ro IV. Trophies from a cloaked frigate shot down over the bay named Big Abi. Trophies from my war with the Miyelonian Pride of the Bushy Shadow. Selling the coordinates of a stash of Relict artifacts. Well, that and my share from a platinum mine I discovered on an asteroid, which now belongs to my companion Uline Tar and her fiancé, Viceroy of Earth Kosta Dykhsh.”

  “But don’t the instructions and internal rules dictate that Human-3 players surrender all valuable trophies and space currency to their faction in return for all kinds of goods and services both in the virtual game and the real world?”

  Was this an attempt to accuse me of something? If so, the complaint looked not merely contrived, I’d even call it silly: what could the Human-3 Faction possibly offer me that would be equivalent to, let’s say, one million Geckho crystals? Or the hyperspace drive they had already broken in the Prometheus laboratory? A slightly larger room under the Dome and slightly longer-aged brandy? I tried to put that to them as delicately as possible, doing my best not to touch on the Human-3 Faction’s meager finances. Unfortunately,
I was not successful. In the comments and trick questions that followed, the curators time and again returned to the fact that the H3 Faction would have the Geckho crystals they needed if I just surrendered my money to my home faction as I should have.

  Ugh, I didn’t want to ask for trouble and touch on such a delicate topic, but seemingly there was no getting around it. So I reminded the curators that I had brought the Human-3 Faction truly colossal amounts of space currency before on several occasions, even giving it as a gift. But where was it now? Three million crystals had been stolen because the location of the Miyelonian smugglers’ landing site was leaked. And by the way, they still had yet to find the informant in their ranks. Meanwhile, another million crystals I sent as a gift was spent by the leadership of the Human-3 Faction to arrange a terror attack in the parallel world at the funeral of Coruler Thumor-Anhu La-Fin.

  Most likely, a living alien or person from that parallel world walking into this chamber right now would have had less impact than what I actually said. The uproar was so great that I winced in pain and started wishing I had of earplugs to protect my sensitive hearing. For starters, both the curators and H3-Faction leadership started accusing me of flagrant lying. I was ready for that though, and answered calmly that I had proof and could provide at least two witnesses: Viceroy of Earth Kosta Dykhsh would confirm the exact amount I sent to Ivan Lozovsky, while ex-leader of the Second Legion Gerd Tamara would confirm that the Human-3 Faction held secret negotiations with people from the magocratic world and transferred them that money to commit a terror attack.

  “By the way...” A shocking thought suddenly visited me: what if all the important people sitting here, who considered themselves very nearly omniscient, still didn’t even suspect the political crisis underway in the parallel world? “I’d like to ask one more question: are you even aware of the fact that the Council of Mage-Rulers has been eliminated in its entirety by a second terror attack, which was planned and executed by Gerd Tamara and her assistant Roman Pavlovich? And that Gerd Tamara has been sentenced to death by quartering, and our dear girl is going to be executed in Pa-lin-thu, capital of the First Directory four days from today?”

  No, the curators did not know that. And the reaction to the news was stormy, ranging from unhidden glee to horror at the fact that two players had unbound our enemies’ hands with such an irresponsible act. To hear them tell it, nothing was off the table in the parallel world’s counterattack now. The mages had already demonstrated an ability to enter our world unnoticed, so the bio-weapon they used under the Dome might seem like just puppies and rainbows in comparison with what may have been coming next. Assassinating political leaders. “Accidents” at strategic military facilities the world over. Unsanctioned nuclear rocket launches. Anything was possible. And that was basically the end of the council session. The players on the stage were asked to leave. Clearly they thought we should not hear what they were going to say next.

  I had already started getting up to leave with the others, so the host’s next sentence directed at the security officers put me into shock:

  “Detain Ivan Lozovsky and Kirill Ignatiev. Both for unsanctioned activity running counter to public interest. How long can someone remain outside the game without harming their character? Something like seven or eight days, isn’t that what we determined? Well, Kirill will spend six days in a cell to cure his ‘space madness.’ Hopefully that will be enough time for him to remember where he comes from and what side he should be on. The way he was talking with such familiarity about the Dark Faction put us all on guard. Ivan Lozovsky’s fate then will depend on the investigation...”

  “No! You cannot detain me in the real world! My starship is supposed to take off from Kasti-Utsh III in one day! It’s very important! Many things hang in the balance, perhaps even the fate of planet Earth itself!”

  But they didn’t listen. Two beefy officers took me under the arms and, not harshly but certainly uncompromisingly led me down an underground corridor. I could have taken control of their minds and demanded that they release me, but what would good would it have done? I wouldn’t have been able to leave this well-guarded military compound and get back under the Dome then. So all I could do was walk with my head down, admonishing myself for my big mouth.

  Chapter Twenty-One. Too Famous

  IT WAS LIGHT OUTSIDE. Ragged gray clouds crawled across the sky. It smelled of freshly-tilled soil, a nearby forest and damp. I didn’t want to sleep anymore. I threw back the comforter, got up off my cot and, my bare feet flopping on the cold floor, walked over the partially open window. I spent a long time staring at a neatly trimmed lawn and tall fence of reinforced concrete slabs with barbed wire running along the top. There weren’t any bars on the windows, just a mosquito net that was fairly easy to remove. But I was on the third floor and knew there was a military compound outside, which made the very idea of escape seem unrealistic. And where would I go anyway?

  In the day and a half I’d been in here, my outrage had passed, as had my hunger strike, explicit shouts out the window and all other expressions of disobedience. In their place came a wave of apathy. Six days... Well, four and a half now. What to do with all that time?

  I had already gotten enough sleep to compensate for the exhaustion of my last few days and watched a couple shoot-em-ups and horror movies on the cable television they provided. I even practiced my psionic abilities, making the sentries standing watch at my door – first Private First Class Sergei Ivushkin from Kerch, then Corporal Vasya Koshechkin from Vladivostok after him – run up and down the corridor, do fifty push-ups and four hundred squats until they could barely stay on their feet. I could have ordered them to open the door and let me in, but I decided not to ruin the soldiers’ lives. They feared me enough as it was...

  What’s this? My sensitive hearing detected footsteps in the corridor. One person. Who could it be? It was still too early for breakfast, or a change of guard. I had already realized that I had been placed in a room on the otherwise vacant third floor of the officers’ dormitory, so this new visitor could only have been coming for me. After a brief exchange of words, I heard the clinking of keys. Corporal Koshechkin was hurrying to open the door.

  “Hey there, Kirill,” said Igor Tarasov, leader of the First Legion and new head of the Human-3 Faction as he walked into the room. The very familiar Dome resident was currently wearing a black ceremonial marine uniform with Major patches. Based on the two medals on his chest, he had been to war. Though I suspected that already.

  I just kept silent because I didn’t see any reason to cheerily greet on a man who had been actively attempting to bury me at the recent meeting with the Dome curators. So I kept looking out the window.

  “Oh come on, Kirill, enough sulking! It wasn’t me who sent you here.”

  Tarasov looked from side to side, critically examining my new digs. A dinky little room. Bare whitewashed walls. An unadorned lightbulb on the ceiling. A little table and chair. A television on the wall. A cabinet for clothes. An unmade cot. A door into a half bathroom. And that was basically it.

  “Hmm, not exactly five-stars... And not your comfy room in the leadership building under the Dome either...” my uninvited guest commented.

  “Also not a deluxe room on the Kasti-Utsh III space station with a view of the stars, which is where I left the game,” I decided to speak nevertheless. “Has something happened? Why did they decide to send me back early? After all, I assume you didn’t just come to pay me a visit and have a chat?”

  I guessed right. That was immediately clear from the way the officer turned beet-red and averted his eyes. Igor Tarasov scooted a chair over and took a seat.

  “Yeah, so here’s the thing... I don’t even know where to start... A lot has happened in the last few hours. Your advisor Gerd Mac-Peu Un-Roi instituted a transport blockade, cutting my faction off from the Geckho space port. And he sent over a burly German Diplomat named Leng Thomas Müller with an ultimatum from ruler of the First Directory Princess
Minn-O La-Fin: either her husband be set free and allowed to enter the game within twenty-four hours, or the Relict Faction will declare war on us and destroy all the Human-3 Faction’s nodes except the capital. I take such threats seriously, so a heightened state of alert has been declared under the Dome. All players are armed and standing guard on our borders. And it’s not that I fear another war, but I also don’t think we have anything to gain from such a conflict. By the way, that German also threatened to summon the Russian ambassador in Berlin to the German Foreign Ministry to issue a note of protest. But if that happens, it’s out of my hands – the diplomats will have to settle this on their own.”

  Oh wow, now that’s intriguing! I gave an unwitting smile. Props to Minn-O. She showed her mettle and made her neighbors bite their fingernails. And just look at the way the former head of the Human-6 Faction is striving to prove his worth! I’d have to have a personal meeting with Thomas Müller to get to know him better. I like his initiative!

  “And by the looks of things, that isn’t all the news.”

  “Yes. One hour ago I was summoned to the new residence of the viceroy of the suzerains on Earth, next to the space port. I don’t speak a word of Geckho, but I could tell Kosta Dykhsh was unhappy both by his fearsome roar and the way he was stomping his feet. And the new translator girl they sent with me just about burned up in embarrassment when she translated all his elaborate curses and threats. She enriched her lexicon with so many choice Geckho expressions that she leveled up three times.”

  The military officer removed his black beret and wiped the abundant sweat from his brow. I was very surprised to see how anxious he was, but his next few words explained everything: