Kingdom of the Dead

by Pavel Kornev

  Which could have been my undoing. I’d given the demonic golem enough time to turn round and bring down his terrible saber on me. Throwing my elbow up to parry the blade with my steel sleeve proved to be in vain as the blow was way too strong. I couldn’t keep my balance and the blow threw me against the wall.

  The depositary’s guardian flew at me and would have undoubtedly made mincemeat out of me had his foot not given way under him. My lucky strike had almost cut his steel foot off, so now the monster was limping, his severed stump screeching along the floor.

  Greatly encouraged, I darted toward him, then promptly changed direction and slid behind him, swinging a backhander at his knee. The undulating blade sliced through his armor with ease, severing the steel cables of his sinews.

  In combination with Gaze of Frost, such a wound was bound to decide the outcome of our exchange. The problem was, he proved to be immune to the cold. I’d completely forgotten all about it, so when the demon began to fall backwards, I stupidly approached him, planning to decapitate him.

  His saber whirled in his hands with unexpected agility, striking me in the chest and piercing my cuirass. It stuck in my ribs so firmly there was no way even the devil himself could pull it out. Devil being the operative word.

  As he fell, the demon grabbed at the spike of my pauldron, pulling me toward him. We collapsed to the floor. Immediately he buried his armored fist in my mask. My head jerked; I heard the crunching of my broken nose. The monster took a second swing and, despite all my efforts to force his arm aside, struck me again.

  He was so incredibly strong I didn’t even try to wrestle him. Instead, I whipped out the bone hook and buried it in the chainmail insert under his armpit.

  He might have been immune to both frost and soul magic, but how about hellfire?

  I heard a click followed by a cascade of sparks. With a metallic twang, something had snapped inside him. Smoke billowed out of him. His outstretched right arm stopped moving, so he tried to strangle me with his left. My larynx crunched as he crumpled it in his hand but failed to do much damage.

  Feeling for the gap between his bracer and his elbow piece, I stuck the tip of the bone hook in it. In another cascade of sparks, his grip on my neck slackened with a metallic click.

  I wriggled myself from his grasp and fell on his back, pinning him down, then unhurriedly drove the bone hook into the gap between his steel collar and the lower edge of his helmet.

  With an ear-shattering pinging sound, some strings inside him must have snapped, releasing still-spinning springs into the air. An invisible cloud of magic spread around us. The demon had run his course.

  I struggled to pull out the sword still stuck in his chest, then clambered to my feet and shook my head. The blow from his armored fist had deformed the mask which now seemed to sneer at you. At least the eyeslit hadn’t moved and I could still see out with my remaining eye.

  One of the stained-glass windows smashed, letting in Scarecrow. He emitted a loud croak, leapt onto the defeated monster and pecked his helmet. The sound of ringing steel echoed through the room. The dead phoenix gave him another peck, this time at the gap between his helmet and cuirass, striking up even more sparks.

  “We don’t need your kind around here!” I grumbled and stepped toward the precious box. Still, Neo had already beaten me to it and had thrown the massive lid open.

  The unbearable glow of white-hot silver filled the room — but it wasn’t emitted by the Scroll of Rebirth. The ghost of the Grand Master of the Order of the Silver Phoenix materialized behind Neo’s back in a flash of blinding light.

  “My young brother in arms!” he announced gravely. “You have discovered the Scroll of Rebirth! Fulfill your destiny and bring me back to life!”

  My jaw dropped. “Don’t!” I shouted.

  I was about fifteen feet away from them and I didn’t even have enough magic energy left to lasso the precious artifact out of Neo’s hands.

  “Hurry!” the ghost told the boy. “Do it now!”

  “But how about Uncle John...” the boy mumbled uncertainly.

  “The greatness of our Order is the only thing that matters,” the ghost announced mercilessly. “You alone can’t bring it back to its former glory. But together... together we can make this world take notice of us!”

  Neo gave me a desperate look.

  Carefully choosing my words, I began,

  “Listen, this scroll is my only hope of ever resurrecting. This is a question of life and death, do you understand?”

  Yeah right. As if he’d understand me! He had nothing but program scripts in his head. He simply couldn’t deviate from the story line.

  Would I manage to get to him before he broke the seal? As if! There was no chance of that!

  “Knight of the Order!” the ghost raised his voice. “Your doubt is outrageous! Fulfil your duty at once!”

  Neo’s hands shook. As if against his own will, he reached out to take the scroll when Scarecrow chipped in. He gave the dead golem an almighty peck, spread his wings wide and gave an ear-piercing squawk.

  The ghost was thrown into the air. “Begone, you nasty bag of bones!” he screamed, choking on his own hatred.

  On hearing these words, Neo seemed to have been transformed. He stopped stooping, spread his shoulders and suddenly shut the lid of the box.

  “My apologies, Grand Master,” the boy said, lowering his head. Still, I heard no remorse in his voice.

  “Be damned, renegade!” the ghost wailed, then disappeared as if he’d never been there.

  The power of the Silver Phoenix which used to fill the boy disappeared with him. The lad seemed to have faded; his status changed from Knight to Renegade.

  “Did I do the right thing, Uncle John?” the kid asked, misty-eyed.

  I didn’t know what to say to him. Silently I opened the box and produced the precious scroll.

  Scarecrow jumped on my shoulder, then pecked Neo’s temple. Blood began trickling down the scared boy’s face, mixing with the darkness exuded by the dead phoenix.

  The darkness entered the boy and lifted him off the floor up to the ceiling.

  I heard the sound of crunching bones and stretching tendons. Neo’s shoulders grew wide as if he’d grown several years in one moment. He was strong again, only this time instead of the old silvery glow he was enveloped by pitch blackness which surrounded him and seemed to be entering him.

  When he finally came back down, he seemed to be slightly different. He'd become older, tougher and more sure of himself.

  His description had changed, too:

  The Commander of the Order of the Black Phoenix

  I saluted the boy. “Farewell, Neo!” I shouted as I broke the magic seal on the Scroll of Rebirth.

  Time to wake up, John Doe!

  Time to go home!

  Epilogue

  I LAY IN my VR capsule, emaciated and deathly pale. My skin was entwined with transparent IV tubes. My chest barely rose and fell, assisted by an artificial respirator. Lines of statistics ran along the screens of the many medical machines surrounding me, showing graphs of both my heartbeat and cerebral activity.

  I lay in the capsule looking at myself from above as if through a video surveillance camera under the ceiling. Was it yet another glitch of my exhausted mind worn out by the long period of unconsciousness?

  I could think of nothing better than to raise my hand. It obeyed with unexpected ease. For a while, I kept studying the tanned leather of my steel sleeve. Then I lowered my stare and suddenly realized I was still in my character’s body.

  What the hell?

  I stepped toward the mirror on the wall of the hospital room and stared at my own reflection in disbelief.

  I was looking at the undead Sorcerer Executioner.

  The massive boots, the leather greaves, the threadbare cape disintegrating into shadows; the chainmail; the cuirass and the flamberge’s hilt behind my back, topped with my frozen eye.

  My one-eyed mask curved in a cru
el smirk. One of its halves dripped dark flames which fell to the floor, burning holes in the lino.

  I removed the mask with unbending fingers, discovering the dead face of John Doe behind it, bloodless and covered with magic writings which had long merged with the skin. My left eye was gone, replaced by an uneven scar.

  No. It can’t be.

  Impossible!

  I flung the mask aside and dashed out of the room. A spike on my pauldron had caught on the door frame and ripped it straight out of the concrete.

  The hospital corridor was dark and deserted. There were no patients or staff; all I could see was the light through the rectangular outline of the open door of the duty doctor’s office. That’s where I headed, drawing the flamberge from behind my back as I walked. The tip of the sword drew a long scratch on the floor, its screeching sound calming me down somewhat.

  This was surreal. It couldn’t be! Was it a dream? A hallucination? Or was I still in the game? But what about the hospital?

  I shook my head and stepped into the well-lit office.

  The Angel of Darkness was sitting at an ordinary office desk. He greeted me with two slow theatrical handclaps. All my cool which I’d so laboriously regained disappeared in an instant.

  “What the hell?” I shouted from the doorway. “Who are you? And where are we?”

  The Angel of Darkness leaned back in his chair which creaked its protest. “Where do you think we are? There aren’t many options. You’re still in the game, John. It’s just that in this tiny cranny of virtual reality we can speak at ease without having to worry about the walls having ears.”

  “That’s not right!” I barked. “I should have resurrected! I should have become myself again and logged out!”

  He arched a sarcastic eyebrow. “Should you have? Why, because of the scroll? I can see you didn’t even bother to read its description.”

  I threw the sword aside, pulled out the scroll and unraveled it. As I read, I gnashed my teeth in despair.

  Scroll of Rebirth

  Property: non-transferrable

  Restriction: only for players level 99+

  “What the hell?” I croaked. “Who in God’s name are you, the admin? You owe me! You should write me out of the game!”

  The Angel shook his head. “I don’t owe anything to anyone. All I can do is erase your identity but that’s not part of my plans at the moment.”

  I glanced at the flamberge lying on the floor. “Erase my identity?”

  He nodded. “I’m obliged to do so. Officially, your identity was erased as the result of an equipment malfunction and the company accepts no responsibility for this sort of thing.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Not at all. Just a precaution.”

  I slumped onto a visitor’s chair. “So what’s the problem then?”

  “A conflict of interests,” the Angel smiled. “There are two opposing game development strategies. The first one envisages lowering the age limit to fourteen years of age; the other suggests a gradual increase in the officially permitted online time. I represent the group of shareholders who are interested in the second scenario.”

  “Are you serious?”

  The Angel pretended he didn’t hear me. “Teenagers are easy to control,” he continued. “ The monetization mechanisms are up and running. The creation of entertainment content has been automated. The game developers aren’t prepared to make allowances for those who’d rather live in VR than just play there. We consider this to be wrong.”

  “Are you intending to profit from offering your equipment on a long-term lease?” I realized. “Bringing a capsule to every household?”

  “We’ll offer an alternative to euthanasia! We’ll relieve the terminally ill from their sufferings, allowing them to spend their last days fully interacting with their families and loved ones. And what about old-age pensioners? The elderly usually find it hard to get used to the virtual world — but given enough time, they might be able to start new lives here! We’ll give them a second chance!”

  Give them a second chance? Yeah right. But only to those who could afford the long-term VR capsule rent. Or would they be able to do it through their medical insurance? In which case he was right: there was one hell of a lot of money at stake. Still, how did I fit into all this?

  I shook my head and demanded more details. “Why are you telling me all this? What’s the point of our meeting?”

  He smiled. “Consider it an interim examination. This is a check of your mental state: its adaptivity, flexibility and stability. Also, you could use some extra motivation, couldn’t you?”

  I cussed. “What do you want from me?” I asked point blank. “Why me?”

  The Angel crossed his muscular arms on his chest. His chiseled face grew pensive. “A group of shareholders has obtained a judgment prohibiting all long-term immersion experiments. They fear being sued in case of the test subjects’ suffering brain damage. And you have nothing to do with our labs. You’re a victim of circumstance and the company bears no responsibility for you. We might use your case to tip the scales in our favor.”

  “Let me resurrect, then! At least let me log out!”

  He shook his head. “The time isn’t right yet. Three months of full immersion isn’t enough. With some reservations, you still show a considerably higher character development rate. You’re quite capable of reaching level 99 within, say, the next six months to a year. Twice fifty levels, there’s nothing impossible about it. And this could have become a considerable plus point for our upcoming publicity campaign.”

  “I’m not a guinea pig! Let me out, now!”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t.”

  I bent down and grabbed the hilt of the flamberge. “I’m afraid you might have to.”

  “Would you like to see the Lady of White Silence again?” the Angel asked. “She did try to set you free. She wanted to separate you from your dead character and to right the wrong that the hacker had done to you. Seeking out rule breakers and stripping them of their wrongfully acquired advantages is her job. But here’s the thing,” he paused and gave me a long look. “There’s a 99%-plus probability of your identity being destroyed in the process with no hope of it ever being recovered.”

  I picked up the flamberge, lay it across my knees and drummed my fingers on its frosted blade. «At least lower the requirements for the scroll’s use. If you want to keep me here for a while, go ahead! But can’t you set the level restriction at 70? Okay, 80! But 99?”

  “I’m not authorized to interfere with the game mechanics,” he snapped, then added with an encouraging smile, “Once it’s all over, we’re gonna pay you compensation for every day spent in the game. The amount will be mind-blowing, trust me. You’re gonna regret it was over so quickly.”

  Having magnanimously offered me this proverbial carrot, the Angel snapped his fingers. Darkness fell.

  I WAS STANDING at the center of the scroll repository clenching the crumpled Scroll of Rebirth. Which I could neither access nor transfer to another player. Dammit!

  I suppressed a miserable moan, relaxed my hand and started back down the spiral staircase. Neo stood silently by the broken window. He appeared to be still in shock over his new status.

  Never mind. He'd get used to it. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I knew the old adage was bullshit but it did seem to work.

  Insolent bastards!

  I FOUND ISABELLA on the first floor. She finished off the Death Disciple I’d thrown from the staircase and called out anxiously, “And?”

  Without saying a word, I raised the scroll.

  At first, she couldn’t understand the reason for my despondence. But once she checked out the scroll’s description, she cussed. “Does that mean you’ll have to level up all the way to 99? That’s real bad timing, Kitten!”

  “As if I don’t understand!” I snapped as I removed the mask. My broken nose crunched as I reset it with a sharp jerk.

  “No, you don’t!” Isabella sai
d, suddenly appearing next to me and giving me a slap in the face. “Kogan’s court hearing is in a month’s time. Without your testimony, the case will fall apart!”

  For a moment, I froze in amazement. “Comrade Major?”

  “I’m a lieutenant!” she snapped, grabbing me by my lapels. “You’ve got to resurrect, Kitten! You’ve got to log out!”

  “So all this was a setup, then?” I asked. “Both our meeting and your fake quest?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Kitten!” Isabella growled. “Without my help you’d have never gotten this far! Of course it was a setup!”

  A wave of blind fury swept over me. I wanted to grab her by the hair and smash her against the wall. The desire was so strong my hands shook. I was strong enough now to have done it — but I refrained. I needed answers more than revenge.

  “Do the others all know?” I asked, clenching and unclenching my fists.

  “Nobody knows,” Isabella replied. “And I advise you not to start blabbing about it!”

  “You can shove your advice where the sun don’t shine!”

  “If you don’t log out within a month, you’re toast.”

  “Are you worried about not getting another star on your epaulettes?” I growled, unable to completely suppress my rage. My head was spinning with it all.

  “They’re gonna unhook you from life support the moment they don’t need you! Can’t you understand that? You’ve got s month to log out! Only a month!”

  My blood ran cold. You’d think I was dead already but now an otherworldly chill spread through my chest as if someone had poured liquid nitrogen over my soul.

  I paused, struggling to collect my thoughts, then poked her in the chest with my finger. “Have the admins fix my player’s profile.”

  She shook her head. “Officially you’re not even here. Also, the game’s servers are located out of our jurisdiction. My support is the only thing you can count on.”

  I cussed. By then, my head wasn’t just booming — it was exploding with all the doubt and speculation. I’d been loaded with too much information for one day, all of it less than pleasant.