Shadow For Hire: Books 1-4 (A LitRPG Series)

by Adam Drake

  My Shadow ability had a timer. With 8 out of 10 ability points put into it, the timer sat at 2 minutes. If I moved while Shadowed, the timer would count down. When still the timer would stop.

  If I dropped out of Shadow the timer would begin to refill, albeit slowly.

  As I stood in the darkened shadows created by the boulders, my timer remained steady at 2 minutes.

  “Is there danger?” Phlixx whispered in my ear.

  “There is always danger,” I quietly said. “We'll just sit here for a little bit.”

  We both watched the forest's treeline, wary of attack. I couldn't say for certain that someone was waiting for me. But the fact this path was the only way back to the travel gate made it a prime ambush point for lazy gankers.

  I felt the hard curve of the egg within the pack. I could afford to wait.

  Minutes passed and nothing happened, nor did I see anyone.

  The safety of the Travel Gate pulled at me. Shadowed or not, I was exposed out here. Death could come at any moment in any form. Part of the reason I loved this game so much. It was intense.

  Convinced I was making a mistake I dropped Shadow and stepped out from the boulders.

  “Are we safe?” Phlixx said, looking about with a dramatic flare.

  “We're never safe, buddy,” I said as I approached the trees. “But we can't sit forever.”

  And besides I needed to hit the bathroom soon. My simulation suit wasn't a custom deal, so any bio-breaks required my removing it entirely. If I was rich, my suit would by augmented with 'bodily relief' features.

  Removing your suit while still logged in was common, but suicidal for your avatar if you were dumb enough to do it outside a safe zone.

  As we entered the forest I avoided the pathway, instead deciding on picking my way throw the trees while keep the path in view. This offered me the chance to use Shadow from within the darkness of the trees while also lessening the chance of suddenly running up on a group of bloodthirsty opportunists coming from the other direction.

  But by the time I reached the base camp I'd encountered no other players heading in either direction. As I passed over the edge of the camp's perimeter a message 'Safe Zone' appeared at the top of my vision, then faded away. Here, no one could hurt or kill me. Even casting helpful spells on someone, like healing, could not be done unless specifically permitted by the receiving player. I relaxed.

  The base camp wasn't much to look at. It was in an open area cleared of trees with a large bonfire at its center. To one side hunched an old crone with various wares and goods splayed over a mat on the ground.

  I wandered too close, and she keyed in on me. “Hello, weary traveler! Would you like to look at my wares?”

  “No, thanks,” I said, mostly out of habit as something I would say to her in the real world. But here, the old crone was a simple construct of the game, one with a single task, to sell me goods.

  “Are you certain?” She continued hopefully as I passed by. “Salve for your wounds? Ale for your aching mind?”

  I ignored her and walked past, but she caught Phlixx's interest. With the old crone's attention on me the ferret crept behind her and lifted the back of her robe. He peered underneath then shrieked in dismay.

  The crone whirled on him, waving her hands. “Begone, rat! Or I'll throw you in a cooking pot!”

  Phlixx had pinwheeled away, wide-eyed and aghast. He collapsed to the ground and made a show of retching up air. “I've seen your wares, lady, and they cannot be unseen!” he wailed.

  I walked around the bonfire and stood before the clearing's only other feature.

  A travel gate.

  The gate was a huge circle which stood on its edge, mounted on a base with a short series of stairs leading up to it. Its edge was marked with various ruins of an ancient language my avatar did not understand, and these emitted a soft yellow glow. The middle surface diameter of the circle was silver and shimmered like a pond. My avatar's reflection played across its strange surface.

  I'd arrived through this gate to search for the golden egg.

  Not yet ready to change areas I turned away and sat on a fallen log next to the bonfire. Phlixx bounded over to sit at my side. “Can I see the pretty egg, again? Please?” He begged.

  I glanced around. Other than the old crone who still stared at me expectantly, there was no one else. “Why not?” I said, wanting a better look at it, too.

  I fished the egg out of my backpack and cradled it in my hands. Its surface had the bumpy texture of a real egg, emphasizing the power of the game's detail, and glinted with the light of the fire.

  “Looks like an egg,” I said. “But is it worth anything?” The goal of the special quest was to get the dragon's egg but nothing specified what happened after. Usually the reward was gold and experience points for my avatar.

  “Maybe we can cook it?” Phlixx said, drooling with his tongue hanging out.

  “Now there's a thought.” Perhaps something was inside? I shook the egg close to my ear but nothing rattled. Holding the egg at an angle I examined it closer with the light of the fire. A thin groove circled around its middle. “Looks as if we don't need to crack it open.” I gripped the egg at both ends and twisted.

  The egg unscrewed into two halves. It was hollow within save for a rolled up parchment. A quest scroll.

  “Oh, crud,” I said. No gold, or gems, or magical items this time. What I needed was something to sell at the auction house.

  “Huh? What is it?” Phlixx said peering at the scroll. “Can we eat it?”

  “Nope,” I said, removing the scroll from the egg casing. “Just means we're not done, yet. This silly quest is far from over.”

  Phlixx frowned and so did I. I wasn't keen on following an extended chain of quests. But if I wanted a reward completing them would be necessary.

  The rolled scroll had no markings on it other than a red wax seal. Pressed into the wax was the symbol of what looked to be a sword, one I could not identify.

  “Let's see what we've got,” I said and broke the seal to unfurl the scroll. A simple map was drawn across the parchment's surface. Examining it closer I recognized it as an area somewhere in the Southern Kingdoms. A red 'X' marked a spot at the end of a valley in a mountain range. With the help of my avatar's map reading skill names of landmarks and towns appeared.

  I sighed. Nothing else showed what the quest was or what the reward for completing it would be. Sometimes a quest was given as a non-descript scroll and an adventurer was more or less expected to show up at the location it indicated to figure things out from there.

  “Not sure if this is worth our while,” I said to Phlixx who'd already lost interest and cartwheeled around. “I'll save it for another time or trade it.”

  I was about to slip the scroll into my inventory when a chat request popped up in my vision. At first I thought it was Mudhoof bugging me again, but dollar signs appended the request label.

  Spammer? Couldn't be. My filters were good at keeping unwanted solicitations from gold farmers and other pests from trying to sell me their crap. If it was a spammer, I'd report them to the game's administrators. Let management deal with him.

  I initiated the chat and a large view window appeared in front of me. Within the window was the face of a large gray owl. Beneath him was the name Ogden Trite. “Greetings!” said the owl, ruffling his feathers as he spoke. “Thank you for accepting my chat request. I am most eager to speak with you. You are Vivian Valesh, the Shadow quester, yes?”

  Waving a hand I said, “Yeah. But I'm not interested in what you're selling, pal. In fact, how the heck did you manage to get may chat identification if you're not on my friends list?” My list of in-game friends was short but distinguished. Or so I kept telling myself. In reality I didn't have many friends, in-game or otherwise. I am a solo player at heart.

  The owl's eyes widened to comical proportions. “Oh, I am not selling anything at all. In fact, it is you I wish to buy from, if you are interested.”

&
nbsp; That's a switch, I thought. “What could I possibly have that you want?” Currently, I had little up on the auction house for sale. What items I got from questing sold within minutes of my listing them.

  Ogden chuckled, and his owl avatar's feathers bristled with the motion. “I'm interested in the quest scroll you recently obtained moments ago. Would you be keen on selling it?”

  Shocked, I said, “How did you know I had this?” I looked around the base camp again, but other than the old crone, no one else was nearby. “I haven't even listed it anywhere.”

  Ogden said, “I pay an exorbitant monthly fee to a Locators Guild each month for them to tell when a new quest becomes available. And they just now informed me of your quest scroll.”

  “There are quest scrolls appearing all the time,” I said. “The Locators Guild must charge you a bundle.” There were billions of quests throughout the game's universe. The vast majority of them carefully logged on various internet sites and wikis. And thousands more were added daily. With billions of players the game needed to generate new content all the time.

  “Well, that's true,” said Ogden. “But I don't pay for a daily list of everything. My interests are far more specific. I am only interested in one kind of quest.” He paused.

  Making an effort to not roll my eyes at him, and wanting to end this conversation, I took the bait. “And what kind is that?”

  “Legendary Quests,” he said.

  “Legendary Quests?” I said, surprised. “Do they even make those anymore?” Every quest had a rarity degree assigned to it depending on what the end quest item reward was. From common items that had no real value, to ultra-rare items that fetched huge sums on the auction house.

  Then there were the fabled Legendary Quests. So rare that out of the billions of available quests, the Legendaries numbered only a few dozen. And completing these quests gave the player a unique one of a kind item unlike any other in the game. Most other quests could be repeated by players and finishing them gave you the same reward. Not Legendaries. They were a one time quest. Once completed for the first time, the reward item changed to something more mundane.

  “Yes,” Ogden said. “But, as you are well aware, not often. Hence their namesake.” He grinned in anticipation at me.

  I frowned. If Ogden was after Legendary quests, and he was now talking to me...

  My eyes went to the scroll in my hand. I unfurled it and scanned it again. This time I saw it. There, at the bottom of the parchment written in spidery-thin letters were the words 'Legendary Quest'.

  “Oh, wow,” I said.

  Ogden said, “Do you intend on selling the scroll? I'll pay you a handsome sum.”

  I blinked several times, gathering my thoughts. “I dunno. This just kinda of hit me. I didn't know what I had until now.” A Legendary Quest. Here in my hands. No one would believe me!

  “Well,” Ogden said, “I will buy it from you at top dollar. Did you have an amount in mind?”

  Amount? How much could this be worth? Quest scrolls were not sold on the auction house as a game rule. They had to be sold off-market.

  “I dunno, I've never been on a Legendary Quest before,” I said. How exciting would that be? A Legendary Quest! But all major quests above uber required groups of four just to activate them. I would need help to do it.

  “If you intend to take the quest, then I will pay you three times the market listing cap for the reward item,” Ogden said. When first introduced into the game, Legendary items which appeared on the auction house sold for incredible amounts of money. So much that it negatively effected the game economy. Cap limits on Legendary items were created and you couldn't bid a copper higher for them.

  This led to off-market sales at even higher prices than the market listings cap.

  “Three times the listing cap?” I asked, not sure I heard him right.

  “Yes. Once the item is obtained, the game will generate the cap. I will triple it, paid in full upon transfer of the item to my account.” Ogden arched a brow which looked odd on an owl. “And I know what you're thinking. Why not just hold onto the item for a higher bidder?”

  “Yeah, that crossed my mind.”

  “Well, to ensure I am the only person in the running I will pay you an upfront deposit immediately upon signing the contract. Five hundred thousand gold. And even if you don't get the item you keep the deposit.”

  I nearly fainted and had to adjust my game visor. Five hundred thousand gold pieces! I'd never imagined having that amount before. And I kept it all even if I failed.

  How could I lose?

  “Interested?” He asked, as he watched me consider my options.

  I grinned at my new owl friend. “Mr. Trite, you got yourself a deal.”

  After working out some minor details, Ogden wished me good luck and logged off.

  I reviewed my employment details with Ogden Trite. He had sent me via in-game mail a contract of agreement which I had signed and returned. It was boilerplate legal speak. If I got the Legendary item, I would transfer ownership to him directly. A few moments after I signed the agreement and returned it Ogden sent the deposit.

  For long moments I sat and stared at my new bank account balance. Several hundred thousand gold pieces now threatened my sanity, and I had the overwhelming urge to pull up the auction house view screen and go on a spending spree. But I resisted. I had a quest to complete. I can shop after. Maybe with a triple market cap to sweeten the deal.

  A yellow warning message flashed across my screen. Something in outside the game demanded my attention. Work was calling me.

  Shoot. I needed to log off and deal with this right away.

  I gave the gate a forlorn glance. “We'll be back,” I said to Phlixx who gave me a confused look.

  Then, muttering curses beneath my breath, I quit the game.

  CHAPTER THREE

  My vision shifted and the base camp vanished. A dark screen appeared with the words 'Logged Off'. Being a safe zone, my avatar was instantly removed from the game.

  Logging off from outside a designated safe zone would leave my avatar standing helpless for five minutes. This restriction reduced the chance of people dropping out of the game just before their characters died.

  The 'Logged Off' screen remained until I pulled my visor from my face. I was in my office. Or at least that's what I liked to refer to it as.

  Smooth floor and walls the color of eggshells almost devoid of detail. A workstation hunched in one corner. Down the length of one wall was a large observation window. Beyond that was the blackness of space sprinkled with stars.

  I blinked several times, trying to get my bearings. Leaving one reality for another took several seconds. I'd heard of people actually getting sick each time they logged out of the game. Thankfully, I wasn't one of them, but I could understand why. Standing in the wide open area the base camp, was replaced by a muted room. The soft grass beneath my boots was now a featureless floor. The warm breeze became recycled air. Even the false volcanic zone temperature of the air had changed to the comfortable level of the room.

  All of this assailed my senses. It took both my mind and body a little time to acclimatize to the sudden change in surroundings; one a simulation, the other real.

  I preferred one over the other.

  A message flashed on the workstation's screen. This was what pulled me out. Something was wrong.

  “Coming! Coming!” I said as I struggled to slip out of the form-fitting suit. Beneath I wore a simple blue uniform, with the companies logo on it. IceTech Industries.

  Once free of the suit I stumbled over to the workstation and looked at the screen. Nothing red. That was good, at least.

  A yellow reminder flashed telling me I was due for an interview by Stellar Now. I cursed. I'd completely forgotten about it lost within my questing life. Stellar Now was a gossip channel that broadcast to the entire solar system and was incredibly popular. They were particularly interested in slice of life segments which highlighted various people fr
om across the system. Apparently, they were keen on interviewing an engineer at a wayward icestation and asked IceTech for a suitable candidate.

  And, just my luck, IceTech selected me without asking if I thought it was a good idea. I didn't.

  Grumbling at the screen I quickly sent a message asking for a ten minute delay, then, without waiting for the replay, ran down to my quarters which was only a short hallway distance away.

  After a touch up and change of uniform, I hustled back to the workstation. Now a company telepresent droid stood next to it, ready to receive the interviewer's connection.

  Damn. I'm late. I'm always late.