Original Enchantment (True Calling LitRPG Book 1)

by Thad Ward

  The groan from behind Ike decided for him. It was unmistakable: A slow, dry intake of breath followed by a long, low “uuuuhhhh” sound. Ike spun in place, directing the stone’s light at the corpse that had just started standing up.

  “Fuck!” Ike yelled. It was dead. It was naked. It hadn’t gotten the memo that it shouldn’t be moving. And it probably wanted its stuff back.

  Ike looked around in a panic, forgetting he’d already searched the place for weapons. He briefly considered rushing the thing before it could come after him, but immediately thought better of it; he had never been athletic or laid any manner of smackdown in his life.

  After a second’s hesitation, Ike bolted out the western exit. Unfortunately, a second was all it took for the zombie to catch sight of him. Ike heard it give a low growl and glanced over his shoulder to see it ambling toward him.

  Small chambers adjoined the corridor, some with doors intact, others that had collapsed. Ike came to an intersection with another large hallway, ducked just around the corner, and closed his hands tightly around the stone to smother the light.

  It worked, but not very well; even the faint light that shone through Ike’s skin was enough to pinpoint him in the absolute darkness of the dungeon. Thinking back to the description of the Glow enchantment, he issued a mental command and was relieved when the stone’s light extinguished fully.

  “That’s not a lot better,” Ike whispered to himself, unhappy to be back in the dark. He glanced around the corner. He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the zombie moaning and shuffling a ways off. It moved slowly and seemed to have lost track of him when the light had gone out, but without other options, Ike was sure it would reach him eventually.

  “Okay, what do I do now?” he whispered to himself. “Rushing ahead seems like a terrible idea. What if the zombie catches up when I’m not ready for it? Throwing the rock wouldn’t do much. That thing’s got three times more defense and ten times more health than the stone’s attack rating. I have no idea how the math works, but chances are it wouldn’t hurt it. Plus I’d lose my only light source. Speaking of its stats...”

  Ike focused on the sound of the approaching zombie. Just like when he’d focused on touching the stone, the stat window for the zombie reappeared. It wobbled from side to side, apparently tracking the movements of the unseen monster, so Ike had a sense of its direction if not its distance. “So it’s not just touch, then. Focusing any sense will do. And it’s not just items. Monsters have stats. Then, do I?”

  Ike wasn’t sure exactly what to focus on, so he just homed in on the rhythm of his heartbeat.

  “Okay, that’s a lot to digest right now,” Ike whispered, scanning over the character sheet for anything that might be useful against a zombie. “Well, my attack and defense are garbage compared to that thing. No combat spells. What’s this Minor Reshape spell?” Upon asking the question, a new box appeared.

  Ike furrowed his brow. At first glance, this didn’t seem all that useful. Then again, “nonliving vegetable matter” and “desired shape” were pretty broad terms. Even if he was limited to a kilogram or less, there were plenty of useful things in that size.

  Ike could hear the zombie getting closer. He didn’t have a choice. He reactivated the stone and scanned the area for raw materials. His eyes settled on a nearby doorway. The roof of the room beyond had collapsed and the broken, rotting door was lying nearby. He rushed over to it and touched it, mentally activating the spell like he’d activated the stone.

  Mana: 8 / 9 (-1)

  The wood rippled and flowed in Ike’s hand like water, moving according to his will. He could hear the zombie staggering up behind him and had a very clear idea of what he wanted.

  “Batter up, asshole!” Ike whirled around, carrying the centrifugal force of his spin into a one-handed swing. The newly-formed bat connected with the side of the zombie’s head, letting out a resounding crack and causing it to stumble drunkenly to the side.

  Judgmental character sheet aside, Ike knew he was no heavy hitter. He’d never really played sports, so one lucky hit wasn’t about to finish the job. He dropped the stone on the ground and gripped the bat in both hands, squaring off against the zombie as it regained its footing. As the zombie turned back toward him, its face a study in slack-jawed malice, Ike took another swing at its head.

  The swing went high as the zombie took a clumsy step forward, slouching into the motion. One of its hands gripped Ike’s tunic and the flesh beneath, digging its nails in.

  Health: 4 / 6

  Ike yelled in pain as the new notification lit up. The zombie hadn’t let go and was raising its other arm over Ike’s head. Ike’s arms were poorly positioned for the zombie being so close, so Ike brought the butt of the bat straight between its eyes instead.

  The zombie released its grip on Ike’s rib cage, stumbled backward, and fell. Ike knew this was his chance. He circled past it and brought his bat down on the zombie’s head, yelling with each strike. Some of his swings were sloppy, hitting the zombie’s chest, shoulders, or arms as it thrashed around, but even the glancing blows managed to keep the zombie on the ground long enough for Ike to finish the job.

  You have gained experience.

  Ike dragged the bat at his side as he returned to where he’d dropped the stone. He slumped down next to it dripping with sweat, shaking from adrenaline, and panting heavily. He touched the wound under his tunic and winced, his hand coming away bloody. He viewed the message with detachment. “Yeah. Beating a man to death is a hell of an experience,” he said wearily. He’d meant it to be funny, but he couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

  As Ike sat there, he examined his new weapon.

  On closer inspection, it was just as crude as the description read. The surface was uneven and the balance felt off. Not exactly a Louisville slugger. Ike wondered why the interface classified it as a club rather than a bat but didn’t have the energy to speculate. Instead, he noted that it had nearly broken during its first fight. Ike activated Minor Repair and watched with tired fascination as the notched and splintering parts of the wood stitched themselves back together.

  As Ike was catching his breath, he took another look at his character sheet. “What the hell is an astral?” he wondered aloud. Oddly, no prompt appeared to answer his question. Skills and spells did seem to get further explanation, though, and he spent several minutes familiarizing himself with the specialties of his class.

  “Okay, so I can’t fight, heal, or blow things up,” Ike summarized aloud, “but I can do this.” Ike rose and cast Minor Reshape on his tunic, breeches, and shoes in turn.

  Mana: 4 / 9 (-1)

  By the time Ike was done, his clothes were clean, mended, and fit perfectly. “I might die in this dungeon, but at least I’ll look fabulous.”

  Chapter 3

  Recovering and gearing up

  “O

  kay, Stony, we’ve got light and warmth,” Ike said, leaning over to retrieve the stone. He winced from the pain in his side. “So, steps one and two achieved. That’s the good news. And we’ve got a weapon now, too. Not a good one of course, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “The bad news is we had to use it.” Ike’s eyes searched the hallway ahead for any signs of movement. “Where there’s one monster, there’s probably more, and I’m in no state to take on more right now. Figuring out where we are would be nice, but it’s secondary at this point. Our next priority is safety and recovery. I need to eat, drink, rest, and tend to my wound.”

  Ike started following the thief’s blood trail, checking rooms as he passed. Many were inaccessible, collapsed or blocked by rubble. The hall itself was nearly impassable at several points, forcing him to climb over debris. The rooms Ike could enter didn’t seem to hold anything of value. From the destroyed furniture, he guessed they’d been living quarters. He considered using Minor Reshape to turn the materials into something useful but, when none of his mana had recovered several minutes later, decided to hold off.
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  As Ike rounded a corner, a closed door stood out to him. The blood trail led past rather than through it, but the door itself was intact. Not just intact even, but normal. He moved over to it and saw a small plaque at eye level that read, “Apothecary Ulstraed.”

  Ike put his hand to the doorknob but flinched back. It was cold to the touch. It wasn’t just the doorknob, either; Ike passed his hand over the surface of the door and felt a noticeable chill emanating from the other side.

  “That’s weird, but there might be something in here I can use,” Ike muttered to himself. He gave the doorknob a quick turn and found it locked. Then, on pure instinct, he knocked.

  “Just a minute,” came a woman’s voice on the other side, causing Ike to jump. He heard something being set down and the rustling of fabric before the door unlocked and opened in front of him, spilling light out into the hallway.

  “Yes?” said the bespectacled woman on the other side, giving Ike a polite smile. She had slightly messy brown hair set in a side plait and wore a simple periwinkle dress that bore several stains, some fresh. Like the door and the woman, the room beyond was a contrast to the rest of the dungeon, filled with intact furniture, hanging herbs, cupboards filled with bottles and jars, a small water basin built into the far wall, and even a few flowers Ike was sure must be decorative rather than medicinal.

  Ike considered the window briefly before dismissing it. It didn’t tell him anything other than her name. The fact that it resembled the format of the zombie’s information wasn’t helpful; for all he knew, this was the way every character or monster looked. He didn’t have a basis for comparison yet.

  Ike opened his mouth to speak when the chill of the room hit him. The rest of the dungeon was manageable – with clothes on, anyway – but the apothecary’s room must have been below freezing. “Uh, hi there,” he said awkwardly. “Do you… treat wounds?”

  “Ah. You’re in the right place,” the apothecary said cheerfully. “Come on in.” She drifted back into the room, seemingly unaware or unconcerned about the cold.

  “Thank you,” Ike said, following her. He hugged himself and rubbed his arms to ward off the chill. “Why do you keep it so cold in here?”

  “It’s not so bad,” the apothecary said, gesturing for him to sit in a chair in a corner of the room. “Winter comes early on the Rim. You get used to it.” She pulled up a stool and sat uncomfortably close, wagging a finger toward his tunic. “Let me see.”

  Ike frowned, not fully understanding her, but chose not to argue. He took off his tunic, flinching as the rough linen scraped the wound. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to make his clothes such a close fit.

  “Are you a recruit for the war? What’s your name?” the apothecary asked, examining under Ike’s arm.

  “Uh, no. I’m not a soldier,” Ike said. “I just woke up here a little while ago. My name’s Ike. Where am I, exactly?”

  The apothecary nodded, apparently done assessing the injury. “I’ve got just the thing.” She rose and walked across the room to search a cupboard filled with bottles and jars of various concoctions. She spoke over her shoulder as she went about her business. “Nice to meet you, Ike. I like people with unusual names. Mine’s Idalia.”

  Idalia retrieved a wide, flat jar of ointment and returned to sit next to Ike. “Refugee, then? You’re in Austrin Fortress. Don’t worry; we treat civilians no matter which side they’re on. Not much point to win the war if nobody’s left alive to enjoy it, right?” She gave a bright smile as she started applying the ointment.

  Ike gasped. The ointment was like ice. Or was it Idalia’s fingers? He started to get a sinking feeling and gulped involuntarily. “That’s very kind, Idalia. Do you mind if I ask why the fortress is mostly abandoned ruins? I mean, all except this office?”

  Idalia stopped what she was doing. Her eyes were on Ike, but they took on a distant look. “What… do you mean? The fortress is the same as always.” Her voice had a dreamy quality.

  If there were zombies in this dungeon, what else was there? “Idalia, what’s the last thing you remember before I knocked?”

  “I was… preparing more poultice?” Idalia said with so little conviction it became a question. She gave the desk a puzzled look.

  “When’s the last time anyone has come by?” Ike pressed gently. He kept one eye on Idalia and the other on the door, which was still open. He mentally prepared himself to make a break for it if things got ugly.

  “The soldiers are at the front right now,” Idalia said, her voice touched with a hint of desperation. She hugged herself and started rocking on her stool. “Sometimes they don’t come back for weeks. Things are quiet right now, that’s all.”

  Ike reached out to touch Idalia’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. His hand passed through and he felt icy pain course up his arm. He gasped and jerked it back in surprise.

  Health: 3 / 6

  “Idalia, I think…” Ike couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.

  Idalia’s gaze lifted back up to meet Ike’s and there was a look of realization and despair. “They left me,” she said, weeping. Her voice took on a hollow quality like it was echoing from farther away, and her body became translucent. “I took care of them. Treated them. They said they’d protect me. Then the enemy came to take the pass...”

  Ike knew running while the ghost was distracted would be the smart move. Nothing about this world had been friendly so far and he was already at half health. Nevermind that his bat would probably just pass through her. If it came to a fight, he was a goner.

  Despite all that, Ike found himself pausing to look at Idalia. He wondered how long she’d been here. Years? Decades? Was delusion something that happened to all ghosts, like a side effect of their condition? Or was it just the reaction of a normal woman who had been betrayed, trapped, and abandoned for all that time.

  “I’m sorry,” Ike said. He gave her a sad smile. “What they did… it wasn’t right. You seem nice. I’m sure you tried to make things better for people.” He gestured toward the colorful potted plants, “I can tell from your flowers.”

  “My flowers,” Idalia said, turning her gaze to them. She stared at them with longing for several seconds before they vanished. Much of the rest of the room followed suit. Her real desk sat at an angle, one leg having succumbed to rot. Her herbs had fallen and decayed to dust. The door remained on its hinges but had several large holes in it. And there, curled up in the corner opposite them, was a skeleton dressed in what might have once been a periwinkle dress.

  “I’m not sure if I can,” Ike said, “but I’d like to help you. Is there anything I can do?”

  Idalia wiped her eyes and turned back to him. “I’m sorry. It’s been so long… I guess I just felt better pretending it had never happened. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “It’s okay, really,” Ike said with a smile. “People come to you because they’re hurt or sick, right? Well, who takes care of the doctor when she needs help? Maybe there’s a way I can make it better.”

  Idalia smiled at that. The expression was still sad, but it was genuine. “I guess it would be nice to move on. I think something bad happened here… the day I died. Dark magic, maybe. I think something’s keeping me here. If you lift the curse on the fort, maybe I can leave.”

  Ike wasn’t surprised to see the quest alert and he didn’t hesitate to accept it. “I’ll do everything I can, Idalia.”

  She smiled. “Well, not while you’re hurt, you’re not. You came to get healed, after all. I’d hate to turn you away just because I can’t touch you. Come check my desk.”

  Ike followed Idalia to the back of the room as she advised him where he could still find items of use. He felt like a nurse preparing a doctor for surgery, laying out knives, saws, clamps, drills, retractors, gauze, bandages, needle, thread, and a tooth extractor. “Is all of this necessary?” Ike asked, wide-eyed.

  “Just seeing what’s still usable after all this time,” Idalia explained. She pointed hi
m over to her cupboard next. “It’s not like I can use it anymore, and you’ll be going back out once I patch you up. Maybe there’s something that might help you.”

  Ike opened up the cupboard. The contents of the bottles and jars had long ago decayed into uselessness. Some of the tools were still serviceable, though. He added a mortar, pestle, scales, tinderbox, and a tea kettle to the pile on the desk. “Well, I should be able to get a fire going, at least,” Ike said.

  “I saved the best for last,” Idalia said, gesturing to the bottom drawer.

  Ike opened it to find half a dozen jars in pristine condition. All of their contents appeared to be fully intact. A blocky, hourglass-shaped rune was inscribed into each of their lids.

  “They were important to my work,” Idalia explained while Ike moved the jars onto the desk. “Some of the herbs and spices I needed to treat my patients aren’t local. Others have short seasons or go bad quickly after they’re harvested.”

  Idalia looked over the items Ike had arranged. “Not much to work with, but let’s give it a shot. We’re going to bandage your frostbitten hand and pack the abrasions on your chest. Get the scales and those two jars on the end, the ones marked bergamot and lavender. And that one there. Yes, the rosemary. The basin is fed by a spring, so the water should still be good.”

  Ike followed Idalia’s instructions. He measured the herbs with the scales, ground them into powder with the mortar and pestle, and mixed them with water from the basin. Then he spread the mixture on the back of the bandages and followed along carefully as Idalia explained how to dress his wounds. Despite her cheerful disposition, Idalia was serious about her craft and strict with Ike about his technique.

  Health: 4 / 6

  You have learned the skill: Healing Arts 1

  You have gained experience.

  “Thanks for the lesson, Idalia. You’re a life-saver,” Ike said, smiling as much at her as the notifications.