Copyright © 2017 by Luke Chmilenko
All rights reserved.
To my loving wife, family and friends.
Thank you for all of your constant support and the willingness to listen to me ramble about my story ideas. This book wouldn’t be what it is today without all of your help.
Contents
Foreward
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Lazarus’s Character Sheet at the End of Hell to Pay
Afterword
Thank You Patrons!
Recommendations
Legacy of the Fallen - Chapter 1
Foreward
Before you start reading this book I’d like to make special mention that while it isn’t explicitly necessary, this book assumes that you have read the first book in the Ascend Online series as it helps build the foundation for the rest of the world that this book refers to and without it, you may end up being a little bit confused!
If you haven’t read book one, I highly recommend that you go here and read it first then return to this one!
Thank you all so much for reading my book and I hope you enjoy the story!
Luke
Chapter 1
Saturday, February 23rd, 2047
Unknown House in Eberia
I awoke on my back to an intense searing pain digging deep into the left side of my chest, burning as if someone had poured molten metal on my bare flesh. My body arched wildly, trying to tear itself away from the unknown source of pain, my mouth open in a silent scream.
Driven wild by the agony, instinct screamed at me to use my hands to brush away whatever was touching my skin, but the moment I tried to move them, I found them stopped by thick leather bands wrapped around my wrists. Panicking, I kicked my feet in desperation, feeling the bite of similar bindings keeping my legs from moving.
What’s happening?! The thought slammed into my head with nearly the same intensity as the pain shooting through my breast. Where am I?!
The sickly-sweet smell of burning flesh reached my nose just as the pain ceased, leaving me gasping and covered in a cold sweat.
How did I get here?! Where are my clothes?! I craned my head upward and found myself strapped onto a stone table, completely naked, my olive-tinted skin gleaming with sweat. The last thing I remembered was checking over my gear, getting ready for the heist…then everything faded to black. The movement made my head spin, forcing me to lay it back down on the table, feeling cool stone on the back of my cleanly shaven head as I stared up at the wooden ceiling above me. Damn, my head…
As I waited for my head to clear, the realization that I was still logged in to Ascend Online gradually penetrated my consciousness, my heavy breathing slowly returning to normal. A quest notification flashed urgently in the corner of my vision, desperately trying to catch my attention.
Choosing to ignore the alert for the time being, I risked glancing around the dimly lit room once again, at least as best as I could with my head’s limited range of motion.
Thanks to my elven ancestry, my eyes easily pierced through the gloom as I craned my head to the left, seeing four similar stone tables filling the room. As my vision adjusted, I noticed a fully clothed body lying on the stone table furthest from me, streaks of dried blood having coated the sides of the table. From the angle that I could see, it almost looked like something had viciously torn out the person’s chest, leaving the ribs splayed wide open.
“Fuck,” I cursed to myself as I shifted my glance away from the body, doing my best to ignore the smell of death and rot in the air. Where the hell is the rest of the team? Where the hell am I?
Twisting my head in the opposite direction, I found myself staring at a large tray an arm’s length away from my table. The tray was filled with an array of sharp tools, complete with a ragged-looking bone saw, jagged knives, and a wicked pair of pliers that sent my heart into a panic.
Get your shit together, Lazarus, this is just a game, remember? I scolded myself, as I closed my eyes and laid my head back on the cool table once again, feeling my heart hammer wildly in my chest. I took a breath to help steady my sudden nerves before reopening my eyes and bringing up the alert I had seen desperately calling for my attention.
Quest Updated! The Heist! (Chain-Quest) (Evolving Quest) (Criminal Quest)
Something has gone terribly wrong with the heist you planned last night! You’ve just awoken to find yourself strapped to a table with a strange sigil burned into your chest and your memories of the previous night missing!
Escape from the torture chamber: 0/1
Find party members - Molly, Ransom, and Edith: 0/3
(Optional) Recover Memory: 0/1
Difficulty: Hard
Reward: Experience & Infamy
Note: Player Messaging has been temporarily blocked.
What the hell happened yesterday? I swallowed hard as I read the quest update, taking special note that I couldn’t just directly message my party members and that the group we had formed had been disbanded. I couldn’t even remember what we had set out to steal yesterday.
I paused to reread the quest update. Wait, sigil?! Is that what was burning me?
Pulling against my bindings, I pushed myself upwards in a half-crunch, spotting bright orange lines glowing just below my left breast and moving down towards my ribs. After staring at the glowing sigil for a handful of seconds, a prompt appeared in my vision.
You have gained the Trait: Sigil of Rage
Sigil of Rage – A magical sigil written in the Primal Tongue has been carved deep into your flesh, causing it to pulse with an unfathomable torrent of energy. When activated, Primeval Rage suffuses your body, granting you +10 to Strength and Agility. While this ability is active, you are consumed by pure rage as your body is burned from within, dealing 10 points of damage per second. This ability scales per level.
“Sigil of Rage?” My dry throat couldn’t help whisper. “Seriously, what the hell happened to me? I need to fucking get out of here.”
I feel like I’m back in college again, I thought to myself as I started to pull against the leather bindings, feeling them strain under my strength, and I just woke up hungover on a park bench with a tattoo I never remembered getting. Except this park bench is a fucking torture dungeon, and I don’t have a stitch of clothes on me!
I let out a low grunt as I curled my bicep, feeling the muscles in my arm struggle to stretch the heavy leather bindings to the point of breaking. Come on, giant side, don’t let me down…
When I had created my character in Ascend Online several weeks ago, I had decided to embrace the game’s flexibility in racial options, choosing a rather unorthodox race combination.
Half giant, half elf.
Mixing the thinner and agile build of a full-blooded elf with that of the bulky and powerful build of a giant, I had created a sleek, yet heavily muscled form that worked well to blend both races’ strengths, giving me the speed and agility that elves were renown for, while also channeling the raw str
ength and power of a giant.
Though what I desperately needed right now was my giant side to shine through and help me get the hell off this table before anyone realized I was awake.
“What’s making noise out here?” I heard a voice echo from the hallway adjoining the torture chamber, followed by quick footsteps.
Ah, shit! I cursed again, pulling even harder against the leather bindings, feeling them starting to cut into my wrists. Had to jinx myself!
Coming around the corner appeared a tall, thin man, his cleanly shaven head glistening with sweat, despite the cool air in the room. He took a look across the room before his eyes landed on me, his expression filling with fear.
“Oh, fuck, the drugs wore off!” the man shouted, pulling a dagger from his waist and rushing towards me.
As the dark-haired man approached, a tag appeared in my vision, labelling him as a [Torturer] – Level 11, followed by a second prompt that filled my vision with burning red letters.
Do you wish to activate the Sigil of Rage?
To my credit, I only hesitated for a heartbeat before accepting the prompt.
The second the prompt vanished, my vision blurred red as burning energy shot through my body, my heart thundering in my chest. It felt like molten metal was coursing through my veins, slowly consuming me from within. I locked eyes with the Torturer, feeling a wave of pure rage wash through my mind.
HOW DARE HE DO THIS TO ME?! The words pounded through my head as my rage-fueled strength finally tore through the binding holding my right arm to the table.
Past the point of no return, I saw the Torturer’s fearful expression shift to one of pure terror as his momentum brought himself within the range of my now free arm. Shifting his charge into an awkward lunge in an attempt to stay clear of my reach, the Torturer thrust his dagger towards my face, intent on burying the shiny length of metal in my throat.
Shifting my body as best I could to avoid the thrust, I lashed out with my free hand, slamming my fist into the Torturer’s stomach at the same instant his dagger carved a wickedly long line across my chest before imbedding itself just under my collarbone. The blow sent the Torturer sprawling as the air left his body, his free arm instinctively reaching out to catch himself on the table.
Pulling my arm free from under the retching man, I hammered my fist into the side of his head, distantly hearing bones crack under the savage impact. Stunned by my vicious blow, the Torturer’s legs gave out from under him and he began to slide off the table.
“NO!” I heard my rage-filled voice snarl as I grabbed the man by the side of the head. “I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU!”
Digging my nails into the man’s head, I slammed it directly into the stone table with a heavy, satisfying crunch, before pulling my hand back and doing it again, and again. Blood sprayed everywhere from the repeated impacts, coating the table and my body in crimson gore.
The sound of rushing feet finally pierced through my rage-filled consciousness as three similarly dressed men burst into the torture chamber, weapons at hand. A simple tag appeared in my vision, identifying each of them as a [Thug] – Level 9. Their eyes immediately snapping onto me, then the near headless remains of the Torturer in my hand.
“Gods, he is awake again!” one of them shouted, his voice breaking as he spoke, slowly trying to back away into the hallway. “And he’s killed Pawel!”
“Where are you going, Raiz?!” The man at the rear of the group shoved the first man forward. “Hurry up and kill him before he gets free!”
“You think I want to get close to that monster?! You fucking do it, Joel!” Raiz barked, taking a second step backward. “You saw what he did to the others!”
“Fucking coward!” Joel shouted, his bluster doing little to conceal the fear in his voice. He took a hesitant step forward, elbowing the third man beside him. “Karl! Wit—”
“ENOUGH TALK!” I bellowed, a distant part of my consciousness finally catching up and identifying the group of men as members of the Undertaker street gang. I felt the sigil pulse with energy, sending another wave of burning rage through my body, allowing me to tear through the leather strap holding my left arm down.
Through my crimson-filled vision, I saw the three thugs recoil in horror as I threw the body of the Torturer in their direction. The Torturer tumbled lifelessly across the floor, forcing the trio to scatter to avoid being hit by the body, giving me the time I needed to free myself.
Sitting up, I grabbed hold of the heavy leather straps holding me on the table. With a massive heave, I ripped through the bonds as if they were paper and leaped straight off the table. I felt my bare feet splash into the torturer’s hot blood on the floor as I launched myself forward, shouting incomprehensibly.
I quickly closed into melee range, focusing my charge on the closest thug, Karl. With my momentum fully behind me, I led with a heavy haymaker punch, slamming my fist straight into the terrified gang member’s face. I felt delicate bones shatter under the impact, as his head rebounded from my fist and smashed into the wall with a sickening crunch.
The rest of my body followed a heartbeat behind, crashing into the stunned thug with a brutal tackle as I slammed him to the wall. Shaking off the impact, my fist began thundering repeatedly into Karl’s face, which began to deform under the ferocity of my blows.
A screaming shout caused my head to swivel towards the noise, seeing a scything blade descending from high above towards my head. Instinctively, my arm shot out to protect my face, causing the blade to brutally chop into my forearm.
Everything paused for a split second as I looked at the sword grinding against the bones in my arm. I felt a distant pain bloom somewhere beyond the crimson haze, overshadowed by the boiling blood that rushed through my veins. My eyes traveled along the edge of the sword, down to the hand the held it, then continuing until I met the eyes of the thug wielding it.
Terror was written across Joel’s face, his bright blue eyes staring directly into mine for a heartbeat, then shifting to the blade imbedded in my arm. He began to pull on the blade, desperately trying to wrench it free. With a vicious snarl, I forced the blade deeper into my arm as I twisted my body away from Karl’s broken body, not allowing the panicking gangster the chance to regroup.
My left hand shot out as I turned, sending a short but savage jab towards Joel’s throat. The sound of crunching cartilage echoed through the air as my knuckles crushed his windpipe. Immediately, the man let go of his sword, both hands moving to grasp his ruined throat, as he attempted to retreat.
Following the thug as he staggered backwards, I hopped forward on the balls of my feet and launched a brutal kick towards his knee, sending him sprawling onto the ground, writhing in pain. Rushing forward, I wound up for a second kick, this time connecting with the side of the fallen man’s head, a snapping sound filled the air as the thug’s head lolled at an unnatural angle.
Rage still burning through my body, I glanced up from the dead Undertaker, my crimson gaze spotting the last standing gang member wheeling to run back down the hall.
“COWARD!” I bellowed as moved to chase the fleeing gangster down the hall, jumping over the Torturer’s body. “FIGHT ME!”
“N-No! I-I surr—” The man’s words were cut off as I tackled him from behind, riding him to a stop as he slid across the floor.
Straddling the man, I wasted no time in beginning to pummel him, my rage-driven fists lashing out repeatedly. It took me half a dozen blows before I realized that the sword was still imbedded in my arm, the distant pain of the metal grating against my bone buried under the sigil’s rage.
Grasping the hilt of the blade awkwardly with my left hand, I wrenched the blade free from my arm and held it high in the air before twisting in my hand and plunging it deep into the bandit’s back, feeling it bite into the stone floor underneath me. The man’s body shuddered briefly as I twisted the blade, then went limp.
It’s over. The realization hit me as the crimson tint to my vision faded and my body began scre
aming in pain from all the wounds that I had taken during the fight. That sigil’s power is…terrifying.
An intense throbbing pain in my chest threatened to overwhelm me, forcing me to look down, spotting the Torturer’s dagger sticking out from just under my collarbone. Blood wept from around the blade, having covered my chest during all the fighting.
I think I’m going to be sick. I felt my gorge rise as I shakily lifted my wounded arm and caught a glimpse of white bone in between the rent flesh. Closing my eyes, I changed hands, reaching for the small blade buried in my chest with my uninjured arm. Grasping the hilt tightly, I pulled it free with a gasp and immediately threw it to the ground.
Standing up, I stepped away from the body, the bloody sword I had killed the thug with still sticking out of his back. Turning my head away from the sight, I looked back down the hall, my eyes landing on the pile of bodies I had left in my wake.
Oh fuck, I thought to myself, feeling my stomach twist at the sight.
Then I threw up.
Chapter 2
I plunged my head into a bucket of water I had filled from a basin, my hands urgently scrubbing to clean the blood from my face. Pulling my head free, I took a single deep breath before grabbing the bucket and spilling its contents over my body. I shuddered as the cold water splashed over me, watching it turn crimson as it washed the blood off my skin.
Grabbing the cleanest cloth I could find, I wiped myself down, feeling the shock beginning to fade from my mind as the game started working its eerie magic on soothing my ragged psyche.
I hope the game completely erases that fight from my memory, I thought to myself while panting. The sigil had filled me with such an addictive, yet powerful, rush of energy. It felt like I could do anything while it was active.
Hell to Pay (Ascend Online Book 2) Page 1
