Viridian Gate Online- Doom Forge

by J. A. Hunter

  Abby rounded the corner a second later, followed in short order by the rest of the crew. Her expression turned stony as she surveyed the newly discovered area. “Just when I think this place is all out of surprises,” she muttered, exasperated. She glanced at me, the color draining from her face. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re honestly considering going in there?”

  “Jack,” Forge said, tone serious. “That’s Murderville, USA, population us—assumin’ we’re dumb enough to go in.”

  “He was a Shadowmancer,” I said in explanation. “Eitri.” I rummaged around in my inventory, then pulled the book free. “I found this behind a false bookcase and when I opened it—”

  Carl’s eyes bulged alarmingly. “Wait, you got it open?” He sputtered. “But. But how? The order’s been trying to open that freakin’ thing for three hundred years. And you just. What? Opened it”—he snapped his fingers—“just like that?”

  I tapped at the handprint embossed on the cover then handed over the book, pulled off one bracer, and showed him the char-black handprint on my forearm. “It’s a Dark Templar thing. Anyway, when I opened it, the book sucked me inside. It was like I was a ghost walking through a dream. I saw these little flashes of Eitri’s life.” I told them about Khalkeús and the Doom Forge, then recounted my brief jaunt through Dokkalfar history. Amara, in particular, seemed enraptured, hanging on every word. The Murk Elves put huge stock in the Honored Ancestors, and there were no ancestors more honored than Nangkri and his kin—though it seemed Isra Spiritcaller was close. And she’d been in the vision too.

  “Jack,” Abby said as I finished telling my story. “This place looks...” She paused. Frowned. Unnecessarily smoothed her dress—a sure sign she was nervous. “Dangerous,” she finally finished. “I’m not normally opposed to dangerous, but considering the circumstances, I think maybe we should skip it. Well”—she waved at the warning above the entry—“I think you should skip it, since clearly this is a Shadowmancer thing. I mean, you’re working under Death-Head mode, the time is running down, and we have what we came for. Why risk it when there’s so much on the line?”

  “As much as it pains me,” Cutter offered, “I have to agree. I always say go for the loot, but that place looks like a death trap wrapped inside of a series of progressively larger death traps.”

  I turned and looked back at the cavern. They were right, I knew. We had what we needed—hell, I’d stumbled upon this place almost by sheer luck. If I hadn’t planted that little seed, the door never would’ve opened, and we’d have gone on our way, none the wiser about its existence. The smart thing to do was walk away. To finish the mission, then, maybe if I had time, I could come back and work my way through the cavern and complete the secret quest waiting for me. That was the smart thing to do—the safe thing to do...

  But I hadn’t gotten here by playing things safe.

  “No,” I finally said with a shake of my head. “Despite the way this looks, I don’t think it’s a trap. It’s a reward. Everyone else got something epic for taking that creature out. But not me. And that’s because my reward is that place. Yeah, time is ticking away, but it’s ticking away much slower here. It won’t cost me more than an hour out in the real world, and who knows if I’ll ever get a shot like this again. It’s no coincidence that Eitri was a Shadowmancer. I was meant to be here. To find this room. I can’t walk away from this.”

  I pulled Eitri’s book free and tossed it to Carl. He nearly fumbled it before getting a good grip on the book. His eyes glazed over for a moment, then a look of near-rapture exploded across his face. “Holy fek. I’m in,” he whispered in awe. “I’m in, I’m in, I’m in!” He pumped a fist, the hazy cloud in his vision clearing. “My quest just updated. They’ve lifted my ban.” He pressed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I can go back. Thank you Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I can go back.” He opened his eyes and let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “Book’s unlocked,” I said, pointing at the golden clasp, now undone. “I don’t know if it’ll suck you into the pages like it did me, but either way, see if it has any other hints about Khalkeús or the Doom Forge. And if you haven’t heard from me in”—I pulled up my interface and checked the time—“let’s say three hours, best if you start back without me.” I pulled my warhammer out, steeling myself. “Alright, I’m going in.”

  Dark Reward

  UNNATURALLY COOL AIR rushed over my skin as I stepped through the arch and into the shadowy cavern filled with statue-topped columns. Those columns were odd, some the size of small pine trees, others as tall and round as the towering redwoods in the Sequoia National Park. The floor was entirely black and smooth as glass, yet it gave just a little with each step. Almost spongy. The cavern, if it could be called that, was utterly quiet. There was no subtle rustle of a faint breeze. No raised voices. No sound of life. Even my footsteps didn’t make a sound, as though they feared intruding on the sacred silence.

  My own breath sounded like a scream in my ears.

  I made my way in deeper, then experimentally stomped my foot down. Still not so much as a whisper, almost as though the floor ate the noise. “Hello?” I called as loud as my voice would carry. Except it didn’t carry—not more than a handful of feet. Weird. Still the curiosity was too intense to turn back, so I pressed on. After twenty or thirty feet, I glanced back over one shoulder and found the archway I’d entered through was gone. Vanished.

  There wasn’t even a wall to mark where the entry had been. Just an endless field of black riddled with more of the strange columns and their accompanying guardians.

  I was alone—the warning above the arch made it clear that this was something I had to do by myself. The others were camped out in one of the abandoned war rooms not far from the library. Eating. Resting. Recovering. Checking the book for clues I might’ve missed. And for the first time, I was really feeling the weight of my decision to soldier on. Everyone had warned me against this, and though I was sure this was the right move, a twinge of uncertainty fluttered madly in my stomach. There was nothing I could do though. Not now. The way back was gone, which meant if I wanted to leave here alive, the path lay ahead.

  I slowly wound my way through the unnatural forest, trailing my fingertips over each column as I passed, pausing to look at the Void Terror statues lurking on the top.

  No two were alike.

  It seemed like every Void Terror I’d ever run across during my time in the Shadowverse was represented here—and many more I’d never seen. I even found a miniature version of the Void Abomination I’d tangled with while in the Realm of Order. It was a colossal squid-like creature the size of a battleship that could’ve easily passed as one of Lovecraft’s Eldritch Horrors. There were also Void Chimps and even a replica of a Void Drake. Not exactly the same as Devil, but close enough to fool someone who didn’t know the Drake like I did.

  Before long, I was lost, completely disoriented since there weren’t any landmarks to speak of. Just endless, formless black, interrupted only by columns and statues. I tried my map, hoping that might give me some clue, some insight, but wherever here was, it wasn’t on any map. My interface showed a blank screen as void as the cavern.

  Unsure which way was the right way, I wandered aimlessly for the next half hour, desperately trying to figure out what in the hell I was supposed to do here or how I was supposed to leave. I used every spell in my tree—the ones that would work anyway—hoping one of them might trigger some sort of mechanism or hidden door, but that accomplished absolutely nothing. The whole while, I kept a firm eye on the time. After forty-five minutes, I practically crawled to a stop, carefully examining each and every column, thinking there might be some innocuous mark or sigil that would offer me a hint.

  Another dead end.

  At the two-hour mark, when my regrets were really starting to kick in, I finally stumbled onto a clearing, ringed by columns, thirty feet in diameter. I let out a sigh of relief and a silent prayer of thanks. I didn’t know what this was, but at least it
was something. At the center were five free-standing doors arranged in a loose circle. The doors themselves were each made of an impossibly dark wood, so black it was nearly purple, with a handprint standing out in stark relief at the center. From the cover of the pillars, I scanned the ring for any obvious signs of a trap or a guardian.

  When I saw none, I finally edged my way into the open, feeling painfully exposed. A thousand eyes seemed to watch me from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

  The second my foot touched down in the odd clearing, a faint rustle of movement caught my ear. Dead ahead one of the Void Terrors, positioned atop a column, stirred. It was a jaguar with six purple eyes running along its feline face. The creature, which had been frozen in a crouch, lurched to life and leapt from its perch, growing as it sailed silently through the air, stretching and bulging until it was easily the size of a Kodiak bear. It touched down without a sound, its eyes burning with unnatural violet light, great strands of purple saliva dripping from its enormous fangs.

  Its tail lashed back and forth as it padded silently across the distance between us.

  Slowly, cautiously, I reached a hand toward the hammer at my belt, then froze when every statue on every column for as far as I could see began to wake. To curl talons, open jaws, and lash tails or tentacles. To stretch long petrified muscles and blink an army of glowing eyes. I pulled my hand away, and the restless motion ceased at once—all except for the deadly cat prowling my way. I went for the weapon again, but promptly stopped when the legion of Terrors began to move once more. A warning, then, that this wasn’t something I could fight my way out of. Whatever this test was, I’d need to pass it without resorting to the weapon at my side.

  The jaguar closed on me in an eyeblink, its massive head filling my vision as huge lips pulled back from its deadly fangs. A brief tag appeared above its head: [Void Mauler]. Yep. That sounded about right.

  The creature ghosted up until it was inches from me, the heat from its breath washing over my skin. The creature narrowed its many eyes and sniffed, its huge nostrils flaring. It inhaled again, dropping its head and driving its muzzle into my chest. Not to hurt me—more like a house cat saying hello to a long absent master. It sniff-sniff-sniffed, rubbing its face on me, working its way down my chest and to my arm, where an old woman’s handprint marred my skin like a tattoo. It offered a throaty growl as it got closer, then lifted a paw the size of a large pizza and pawed at the bracer covering my forearm.

  I wasn’t sure what to do, but as the growl and the pawing became more insistent, I finally reached over and pulled my razor-edged bracer free, rolling up my sleeve and showing off my brand. It was the mark, passed on from one Maa-Tál to another, that awakened the Shadow Spark that resided in a fraction of Eldgard’s population.

  The growl turned into a throaty purr.

  I reached out trembling fingers and ran a hand across the cat’s enormous head. “Who’s a good kitty who doesn’t want to maul me? You are. You don’t want to murder me.” I slipped my hand beneath its shaggy black chin, giving the enormous cat a scratch, which it seemed to firmly approve of.

  The creature purred louder, pleased.

  Once it had finally had enough of my affection, it casually turned around, tail swishing, and made for its column. It paused on the edge of the clearing, offering me a final glance, before lightly bounding up onto its stone perch, resuming its pose before freezing once more. Only its burning eyes and an unsettling memory said it was anything more than a statue. Apparently, I had passed the sniff test, which was a huge relief. In my mind, I could only imagine what would’ve happen had I failed: a wave of Void Terrors all descending on me from their pillars, tearing me apart an inch at a time with cruel fangs and rending claws.

  Since the cat had more or less given me the green light, I headed for the doors, inspecting the first as I got close. The handprint in the middle of it was a vivid electric blue, the center adorned with the symbol of the Maa-Tál, though with an additional slash slightly altering the mark. I pushed my palm against the print, just as I’d done with Eitri’s book, and waited a long moment, holding my breath. Nothing happened. Not the door for me. I moved on to the next in the ring, this one with a burning green handprint, the Dark Templar symbol distorted by a hooked line running along its right edge.

  I went through the motions again, but once more was met with failure.

  The third door was the same as the first and the second, though the handprint was a metallic gold, the symbol similarly altered. Which is when I finally made the connection. There were five different Dark Templar class kit specializations—Shadow Knight, Plague Bringer, Umbra Shaman, Necromancer, and Shadowmancer. Five kits, five doors, five colors, five markings. Like the rest of the underground mansion, this place was a training ground, one meant for all Dark Templars. But whatever secrets lay behind the other doors were meant only for the respective class specialists.

  I breezed past the fourth door in the lineup—the handprint black as wet tar—and made for the door with a violet palm print the color of an Umbra Bolt. It pulsed gently as I drew closer, thrumming with potent power.

  When I pressed my hand against the mark, the door simply vanished, replaced by a shimmering portal of silver energy that beckoned me onward.

  Despite the oddness of the place, I stepped through without a hint of hesitation and not even an iota of fear. I belonged there. If such a thing as destiny existed, this was where it lived.

  Icy power washed over my skin in a sheet, goosebumps breaking out along my arms and running up my spine. On the other side of the door was a modest crypt, the walls built from dark gray stone. Stained-glass windows peppered the walls, showcasing in perfect detail many of the scenes I’d seen secondhand through the book. Mounted torches burned with unearthly purple flame. In the center of the room was an obsidian casket, its lid heavily carved into a perfect likeness of Eitri.

  Lodged in the stone effigy of Eitri, right where his heart would’ve been, was an enormous emerald the size of a softball. An emerald I’d seen often enough before, or at least a version based on it.

  There was one in the Command Center table of Darkshard that allowed the controlling faction to access info about the Keep itself and summon the Keep Guardian. And Darkshard wasn’t the exception. Each Keep had a stone like that. Was it possible I’d discovered the way to claim this otherworldly place as my own? That certainly would’ve been one hell of a prize.

  I had no answers, but there was no other visible treasure or reward anywhere in the room, so I headed toward the casket, hand outstretched. I touched the gem, which promptly swirled to life with cloudy green light.

  A moment later, a green specter appeared in the air above the casket. A perfect replica of Eitri as I’d seen in the book. “Welcome to my tomb,” the spirit said, smiling at me with perfectly even teeth. “I am Eitri Spark-Sprayer”—he bowed with a small flourish—“or what remains of him.”

  Flabbergasted, I just stood there, mouth agape. What in the hell is this? “But ... but you’re dead,” I sputtered after a moment.

  “Observant of you. But the more you dig, the more you’ll find that dead is something of a relative term in Eldgard. Turns out, the soul of a god, even a demigod, is a rather resilient thing. Though, I will admit, I’m only a shadow of my true self. But enough about me. If you’re here, it means you’ve already found my book. You know most of my story. And it also means you’ve defeated my guardian, which is no small task. Congratulations are in order, I think.”

  “Thank you,” I offered with a shrug, not quite sure what to say or how to proceed. “So, what is this place?” I ventured after a beat.

  “My home,” the shade replied in turn. “And a training ground, which I’m sure you’ve gathered. My people, the Dokkalfar, are a tightknit group, but unfortunately that makes them notoriously tight-lipped as well. When I first came to the Storme Marshes, despite my mother being known to the clan, I was an outsider, and working my way into the inner ranks of the Dark Templa
r was a challenge.” The shade folded his arms, a wistful look flashing across his face. “And even once I did earn my brand and my place among them, I discovered a true travesty, bred by their distrust of outsiders.

  “Many of our most powerful skills can be augmented and boosted by skill trainers, yet there were too few master trainers to pass on their arts. And they never wrote anything down. Never.” He shook his head, a sad sigh escaping his lips. “It was antithetical to their way of thinking, and so, when they died, all of their knowledge was gone with them. Lost to the ages.” He pursed his lips, gaze distant as though he were looking through a window into a different time. “I couldn’t abide by it. So, I started to gather the knowledge of the ancients and write those secrets down. Secrets of the Umbra Flame. Taming the Void: A Shadowmancer Primer. Between the Worlds.”

  That middle one immediately rang a bell. “Wait. Taming the Void,” I said, thrusting a finger out. “I read that one. It was all about Void Terrors. I found it in a secret library inside a Darkshard mine outside of Yunnam. Did you...? Was that...?”

  The shade beamed and nodded his head vigorously. “Yes. All written by my hand and stashed away where the more traditional Murk Elf elders of my day would be unable to find my handiwork. I made that Shadowverse Pocket, you know. The one in the mines. One of my first and greatest achievements. The lessons I learned constructing it eventually led to the creation of this place. I didn’t stop with the books, though. I realized even that was too inefficient. So instead, I made it my purpose to build something greater. A repository of all Dark Templar knowledge.” He spread his ethereal hands. “Built not in the Shadowverse, but truly outside of time and space itself, where no corruption could touch my work.