Awaken Online (Book 3): Evolution

by Bagwell, Travis

  Alexion turned, raising his sword and addressing his soldiers. “You see this? The Dark One is dead by my hand. We have finally struck a blow against the Twilight Throne!”

  At this announcement, the soldiers and nephilim lining the walls cheered, raising their weapons into the air. “All hail the Crystal Reach!” they cried. The shouts cascaded through the courtyard and over-enthusiastic nephilim launched bolts of energy into the air, the missiles spiraling through the thick smoke.

  A rumbling chuckle suddenly sounded from behind Alexion, and he felt his stomach lurch. Whirling, he found the Old Man watching him impassively, his chest rising and falling once more as he continued to laugh at Alexion and his soldiers.

  “What is this?” Alexion asked, the men and women ringing the courtyard lapsing into a confused silence.

  “That was it? A few bolts and some fireworks?” the Old Man demanded. “I’m insulted.”

  The god rolled his shoulders and the wooden bolts embedded in his body abruptly disintegrated, the material appearing to age rapidly. He then retook his feet, his robe knitting itself back together at a frightening pace. The dark blood staining the ground drifted back toward the Old Man, the droplets condensing and rolling toward his body. As the blood reached him, it coiled up the god’s legs before disappearing inside his robes.

  Within moments, the Old Man stood once more in the center of the pentagram, completely unharmed. “Now then,” he began, turning his head toward Alexion, “where did we leave off? Oh yes, you were going to kill me? When can I expect that to happen exactly?”

  Alexion’s mouth opened and closed rapidly as he stared at the dark god. The insidious whisper had suddenly abandoned him, and a whirlwind of half-formed thoughts swirled through his mind.

  “No response?” the Old Man demanded. “Or perhaps that was the best you could do?”

  The dark god shook his head sadly. “Since your Lady has broken the covenant, a price must be paid. And you must bear the cost,” the Old Man continued, a grim grin curling his wrinkled lips below his hood, despite his morose tone.

  The god turned to the soldiers lining the walls, waving his hand in their direction. “Perhaps we will break your toys first.”

  Needles of black energy raced from the dark god’s open palm. The missiles struck each of the nephilim along the walls, embedding themselves deep within their throats. The soldiers let out a gurgling cough, clutching at their throats. Crimson blood welled from the wounds and trickled between their fingers.

  A moment later, malignant black veins appeared along the soldiers’ skin, and they let out strangled screams, dropping to their knees and clutching their heads in pain. Their eyes turned red as the blood vessels burst, the pain driving them to madness and the nephilim clawing at their own skin in a vain attempt to tear out the mana that ate its way through their bodies. The malignant energy killed them from the inside out, tearing away at their organs before their skin began sloughing off in waves.

  The Old Man spared a glance at the siege weapons ringing the courtyard. As he looked at each one, wood crumbled to dust and metal rusted and fragmented. A moment later, only small piles of debris remained where Alexion’s soldiers had installed the ballistae – their crews now little more than skeletal remains and puddles of gore.

  “And now, these pretty little creatures,” the Old Man said, turning his gaze toward the Confessors ringing the courtyard. The white-robed men and women had shrugged off their shock and had begun sprinting toward the dark god, flames coiling up their arms and legs.

  As a woman neared the Old Man, she lunged at him. He caught her fist easily in one hand, moving too quickly for Alexion’s eyes to follow. “What is this?” the dark god asked, inspecting the woman clinically. “Ahh, I see. You bound their mana by inscribing wards into their skin. Primitive, but effective.”

  He twisted the woman’s arm viciously, snapping the bones in her forearm and ivory splinters breaking through her skin. She tried to scream, but the god’s other hand immediately rested on her face. Her flesh began to melt away, choking off her cries. The woman’s lifeless bones rattled to the ground a moment later.

  The Old Man glanced at the other Confessors with a bored expression. The group of fanatics, undeterred by the death of one of their own, continued to sprint toward the god. With another wave of his hand, he summoned a Miasma. A veritable wall of dark energy expanded from his body in a pulsating wave, tendrils of darkness reaching hungrily for the Confessors that raced toward him. A moment later, a few dozen more skeletons dropped to the ground.

  Then the Old Man turned to look at Alexion. “Now, what shall we do with you?”

  Alexion could only stare at the god in stunned amazement, his mind wheeling. He stood no chance against this sort of power. Neither the hollow void in the back of his mind’s nor his mother’s reassuring whispers came to him in that moment. He was alone. Entirely alone. And he could see his own death standing before him – faceless and inexorable.

  ***

  After a dearly needed break in the real world and a good night’s sleep, Jason’s group made it back to the Twilight Throne refreshed and ready for the next stage of their quest. They had reconvened in the Keep and were now sitting around the familiar long table, detailed scrollwork inscribed into its surface showing undead in various states of revelry. As Jason stared at the table, he noticed for the first time that many skeletons carried what appeared to be beer mugs.

  Really?

  Alfred was curled up in his favorite seat, his feline eyes watching the group carefully. Jason couldn’t help but meet the AI’s gaze. He had been quieter than normal lately, which Jason wasn’t sure was a good sign. After their conversation in the temple throne room, Alfred had seemed more reserved and thoughtful – like he was weighing something important.

  “Are you okay?” Riley asked, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder.

  He shook himself out of his stupor, meeting her gaze. He immediately did a double take, realizing that this was one of the first times he had seen the archer in recent memory where she wasn’t covered in blood and sweat. It was a little odd – but in a good way.

  When she continued to stare at him expectantly, he coughed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly, I’m just wondering about the next stage of this quest. Now that we have the Hydra Heart and the Grimoire, we should be able to complete this mysterious ritual.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Riley asked softly.

  “I guess,” Jason replied. He couldn’t shake the feeling the memory of his conversation with the Keeper and the Old Man. Something more was at play here. The Hippie’s actions alone were evidence of that. Still, he felt like he was missing something. “I… I just feel like this going to involve something unexpected.”

  “Well, then it will be right up our ally,” Riley said with a grin. “I’m not sure I could have predicted a lizardmen invasion or that irritating play.”

  “Fair enough,” Jason said, matching her smile. He spared a glance at Frank and Eliza across the table. The pair was pouring over the notes for the mage’s latest concoction. At least he had his friends – come what may.

  A chime sounded through the keep, signaling that the other members of the Shadow Council had arrived. With a clap of his little hands, Pint summoned their guests to the meeting room. A moment later, Morgan, Jerry, Cecil, and Vera appeared near the fireplace. Now veterans of the imp’s irritating teleportation ability, most of the members of the Shadow Council managed to stay on their feet. Vera wasn’t quite so lucky and found herself sprawled over a chair.

  “You need to watch your step there!” Jerry suggested, offering a hand to the soldier.

  She glared at his hand and stood up on her own. “And you could have warned me about the teleportation spell!”

  The gregarious innkeeper gave her a lopsided smile. Then he caught sight of Jason and his group watching them. “Look at our little group of dastardly evildoers – led by none other than the Sultan of Sin himself!”

 
In a flash, Jerry was beside Jason, draping one of his thin, decaying arms around his shoulders. The thief leaned in close. “While you were gone, I finished my masterful creation. I can’t wait to show it to you.”

  Jason resisted the urge to rub at his temples as the other members of the council took their seats. “Do I even want to ask?” he muttered.

  “No need!” Jerry replied. “I’m happy to offer up the humble scribblings of a novice songwriter. I have entitled this piece The Ballad of the Bad.”

  Before the thief could launch into song, Morgan’s staff descended on his head with a solid thump. “Enough. Leave the boy alone. I imagine they have other matters to attend to besides your silly nonsense.”

  Jerry rubbed at his head gently and fixed his floppy hat, inspecting the brim carefully for any damage. “I was just trying for some levity. All the doom and gloom around here can really get to a person, you know!”

  Morgan sighed softly before turning to Jason. “We heard of the conversion of Falcon’s Hook from Vera. She also brought us up to speed on your conversations with the water god and the addition of our new member,” she commented, glancing at Eliza – who immediately averted her gaze shyly and adjusted her glasses.

  “Good,” Jason replied. “That will save us some time, and we can spare everyone the introductions. How have things been going in the Twilight Throne?”

  Morgan and Jerry glanced at each other, concern filling their eyes. “You haven’t heard?” Morgan asked.

  “Heard what?” Jason was already dreading the answer. That’s just what he needed right now – another problem.

  Vera coughed. “Well, one of the border towns around the Twilight Throne was wiped out a couple of days ago. I believe that the town was called Sibald. It was actually the center of a thriving slave trade in undead – including many deserters from the Twilight Throne.” Riley looked alarmed by this news, her face clouding as she listened to Vera.

  “I remember the town,” Jason commented. “Before we left, I believe the plan was to convert it to the dark and offer the deserters a chance to redeem themselves and live there autonomously.”

  “Well, that plan went up in flames – literally,” Vera replied in a dry tone. “The town is now little more than a pile of ash. It looks like something big went down there, but we didn’t find any corpses – including any of our own men. We had a full division stationed there at the time.”

  “Is it possible that this was the result of travelers?” Frank asked, a frown on his face. His hands were darting through the air, likely navigating his system UI. “I’m not seeing anything on the forums.”

  “It’s possible that the travelers are responsible,” Vera said with a nod. “But I also suspect the neighboring city of Vaerwald. I understand the mages aren’t exactly happy with the Twilight Throne right now,” she added, glancing pointedly at Riley.

  “Except,” Vera continued, raising a hand to ward off their questions, “Vaerwald was attacked a few days ago as well.”

  “Our sources indicate that most of the buildings on the lower levels were burned down,” Jerry interjected, his normally jovial expression uncharacteristically serious. “The number of deaths is in the hundreds, and many bodies are still missing.”

  “Oh my god,” Riley whispered. “Have you heard anything about the orphanage on the lower levels?”

  Jerry eyed the archer knowingly. “Fortunately, the building was outside the radius of the fires, and several water mages intervened to keep the fires from reaching that area.”

  Jason’s thoughts were racing as he considered this news. It was odd that the destruction of Siblad and the fires in Vaerwald had happened in such close proximity. He immediately suspected Alex. However, the fact that no one had tried to pin the attacks on the Twilight Throne made him second-guess that conclusion. Perhaps the events were unrelated, or the players had grown more ambitious with the revelation that they could dramatically affect the game world.

  “Keep your eyes peeled,” Jason said to Jerry. “I want to know immediately if any new information comes to light. It might not hurt for you to keep an eye on the Crystal Reach as well. Alexion always seems to be at the heart of these problems.”

  Then Jason shifted his gaze to Vera. “As of right now you are officially in charge of the Twilight Throne’s forces. I’d also like to increase our military strength as quickly as possible. If you need anything, just ask.” This earned him a curt nod from Vera.

  “On that note how are the improvement projects going within the city,” he asked the undead innkeeper.

  “Grunt has been hard at work, and we have rehabilitated perhaps 35% of the dilapidated structures,” Jerry reported. “We have also received quite a few new corpses from William, including some of the wolves you requested. If you can raise some more of those lovely cows, we can improve our pace.”

  Jason rubbed at his chin in thought. Housing for the undead was important, but they also needed more bodies that he could stick on the frontlines. Which was why he was now gazing at Eliza, where she sat quietly on the other side of the table.

  “We might have another way to increase our numbers,” Jason began. “We are now formally allied with The Sea’s Edge, and Eliza has joined Original Sin. She also happened to borrow an egg when we escaped Anguine Isle. We think it might be the last of its kind – a lizardman.”

  Cecil glanced at the shy girl. “Oh really? That sounds interesting.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Jason said with a grin. “Because Eliza may need your help. She’s actually a pretty accomplished herbalist and alchemist. We need to set up a garden and workshop for her. I think we may be able to kill two birds with one stone and build a breeding den for the lizardmen at the same time.”

  The dwarf-like man looked at Jason quizzically, waiting for him to continue. “I’d like to build a cavern complex under the city using a group of the mole creatures we found outside of The Sea’s Edge,” Jason explained. “If we can create artificial lights and a heat source, we may be able to grow plants undergrown and set up a spawning area for Eliza’s lizardmen.”

  Cecil ran a hand through his beard as he considered this news. “It’s possible. I could probably work with some light mages to build crystals that would emulate natural sunlight, and we can ship in soil from near The Sea’s Edge. As for a heat source, I can probably come up with something sufficient.”

  “Are you sure?” Eliza asked. “I really don’t want you to go to all this trouble on my account.”

  Jason smiled at the water mage. “This is partly for you and partly self-interest. If you can brew potions for our undead, they’ll have another advantage in battle. If we can also start breeding and training the lizardmen, we can use them for additional labor and as soldiers. With some training, they might be quite effective in combat.”

  “Okay,” Eliza said slowly, her brow furrowed as she considered his plan.

  “Jason is always like this,” Frank offered from beside Eliza. “This is why we let him come up with the crazy strategies. They almost always seem insane, but it’s just because he’s thinking a few steps ahead.”

  “Or our back is to a wall, and I’m just gambling,” Jason replied with a grin.

  “Or that!” Frank added.

  Turning back to Cecil, he addressed the gruff man, “Let’s get started on these caverns quickly. We can retrieve a few more molekin corpses, and I’ll assign them to you. Just tell me what else you need.”

  “Got it,” Cecil said with a nod. “I’ve been meaning to get out of that damn school for a while anyway. It seems those twits can make anything explode.”

  “Can we talk about the elephant in the room now?” Riley asked. When Jason gave her a questioning look, she continued, “You know, the book?”

  Jason sighed. “Of course, sorry. I just got distracted.”

  He promptly pulled the grimoire from his bag and placed the ancient tome on the table. The group edged forward in their seats, looking at the grim skulls embedded in th
e cover and the chain that held the book closed.

  “May I see it?” Morgan asked, offering a hand. With a nod from Jason, she pulled the book to her, gently running her fingers across the cover. “I’ve only heard rumors of the Dark One’s grimoire,” she murmured. “But to see it in person…”

  “I hate to break up this special moment between you and your new book,” Frank said, drawing Morgan’s attention. “But what about the quest? There was supposed to be some sort of ritual involving the book and the Hydra Heart we recovered in Peccavi...”

  “Ahh, yes,” Morgan said, forcing herself to glance up at the group and pay attention. “I did quite a bit of painstaking research while you all were off galivanting across the globe and destroying cities.”

  “Which I’m sure they all appreciate,” Cecil grumbled. “Now get on with it woman. We’re all growing older by the moment, and I have other things to do.”

  “Fine, fine,” Morgan said, waving her hand. “It seems that the ritual requires the book and the heart – which we knew. It also requires two willing sacrifices.” The group all looked at the dark mage with stunned expressions, no one quite certain what to say.

  Jason swallowed against the lump in his throat. He had known this for a while, having read the quest prompt, but he had been avoiding the issue, refusing to confront Riley and Frank about it. How could he ask his friends to kill themselves on his behalf?

  “Ahh, from his expression, I expect our Dark Lord and Savior is already familiar with this startling new development,” Jerry observed, nudging Jason. “So, who are our lucky contestants… I mean, sacrifices?”

  Jason glanced at Frank and Riley, noting the question in their eyes. “I suspected I would need sacrifices,” he began, “I just wasn’t certain how to…”

  “We’ll do it,” Riley said, interrupting Jason. “I’m guessing that’s what you were about to ask,” she added when she saw his surprised reaction.