Contents
Title
Copyright
Also by Blaise Corvin
Dedication
Foreword
VeilVerse Universe
Prologue
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
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Book End
Author's Note
VeilVerse Universe
Asgard Awakening
Asgard Awakening, Book One
A VeilVerse story
By Blaise Corvin
Asgard Awakening
Copyright ©2018 by Blaise Corvin
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Also by Blaise Corvin
*Note: Some titles are scheduled for launch in 2018 or 2019
Artifice Universe
Delvers LLC
1. Welcome to Ludus
2. Obligations Incurred
3. Adventure Capital
Nora Hazard
1. Mitigating Risk
2. Competitive Advantage
3. Accounts Payable
Delvers LLC (Cont.)
4. Golden Handcuffs
5. Hostile Takeover
VeilVerse
Asgard Awakening
1. Asgard Awakening
Yggdrasil Universe
Secret of the Old Ones
1. Luck Stat Strategy
2. Airship Privateers
Written with Outspan Foster
Anthem of Infinity
1. First Song Book One
2. First Song Book Two
For my loved ones and their infinite patience.
Foreword
Hello readers! This book is classified as GameLit.
You might be curious what GameLit actually is. GameLit, a larger genre umbrella, is any fiction with game mechanics or that takes place in a game. RPG GameLit, or LitRPG is a subgenre of GameLit where stories include some sort of linear progression for characters that is significant to the plot of the story. These types of stories have been extremely popular in Russia and other countries where they are called LitRPG. They’re just now making an impact in the West!
RPG GameLit is usually a funky mix of Fantasy and Sci Fi. The settings can vary, but what most GameLit novels have in common is a world that most gamers can immediately relate to.
Asgard Awakening is definitely GameLit, and some would classify it as RPG GameLit/LitRPG as well.
This series is also Harem Lit, a subgenre of literature that includes polyamorous relationships with a single lead.
***
For everyone who enjoys this book and the VeilVerse in general, you have William D. Arand to thank.
Will and I go back a ways. We started writing at around the same time, but he beat me to it. In fact, I read his books (Otherlife) before I had published anything yet. We have very different styles, and even approach writing itself from different directions, but our friendship has really been based on a mutual love for writing and literature from the get-go.
A while ago, Will approached me with an idea for a shared universe. As far as I know, nothing like the VeilVerse has been done before, especially by indies. There have been other collaborative universes, like Star Wars EU, Dragonlance, and Michael Anderle’s large library of work. But as far as I know, two authors have never created a new universe from scratch and then proceeded to write /separate/ books in it right off the bat.
This is an exciting time to be a writer, and I feel honored to have been part of this project.
The cool thing about the VeilVerse universe is how readers can simultaneously read the adventures of two very different cousins, marooned in two different worlds. Furthermore, other writers may join us in the future with tales of their own veils.
In closing, I want to sincerely thank everyone for coming along with me on this journey. I’ve always wanted to add a series like Asgard Awakening to my growing library of work, and there was no better author than William D. Arand to join in this new endeavor.
Please remember to leave a review, even if you only post a few words. Every little bit helps!
***
I really had a lot of fun writing this book. If you’d like to visit my website, the URL is http://blaise-corvin.com/
I also have a writer’s note in the back of the book with a whole mess of links.
If you’d like to connect with me on Patreon, the link is http://www.patreon.com/BlaiseCorvin.
My reader group on FB is at http://www.facebook.com/groups/BlaiseCorvinBooks/.
I hope you enjoy your time on Asgard with Trav!
The Veilverse Universe is owned by Blaise Corvin (that’s me!) and William D. Arand.
Asgard Awakening follows the adventures of Travis Sterling. To read about his cousin Ash, please check out William’s series, Cultivating Chaos!
Cultivating Chaos
Prologue
Stars twinkled amidst the inky vastness, handfuls of glittering sand thrown across the darkness of infinity. The uncaring vacuum of space was remorseless, offering no warmth or safety, but the Traveler remained untouched. Ages had passed. The Traveler had not spent much time actively thinking for quite some time. All that remained had been a single purpose, a single destination, all driving towards one thing. Hope.
Despite traversing the void for an eon, the bodiless entity had never lost focus. Revenge and knowledge—the ancient drive still remained strong. The Traveler should have stopped existing long ago, merely dissipating into the cosmos, but the hope born from forbidden knowledge still burned, combining with an iron will to create energy from nothing.
These days, the Traveler was not much more than a moving, glittering shadow with a general plan to exist again. A great deal of luck would be necessary. Uncertainty made the Traveler nervous.
So much time had passed that sacrifices had been made, of course. All knowledge and power came with a price, and this mission had never been an exception. With steadily decreasing options, the price had grown.
Something had changed, though, providing new direction. Blowing gently, the winds of fate had stirred long-forgotten memories. The Fates could be cruel even as they granted a break. To most, energy was better spent adapting than questioning unattainable knowledge. But to the Traveler, no knowledge was ever truly unobtainable.
It had taken a great deal of time, but the Traveler had been able to read the new shifts in the mystical patterns of the cosmos, and had adjusted course. This would probably be the best, last chance to complete the mission. To live again.
Suddenly, a newcomer joined the Traveler, a bright glow amidst the endless shadow. The Traveler sensed something familiar from this Spark, a resonance. Family. The Spark was not directly connected to the Traveler but was connected to another. A son? The Spark had a name, a relationship. Grandchild.
The Traveler had not expected to meet another on this journey, much less family. At first, the new additio
n was neither positive nor negative. The Spark was descended from a betrayer but was still Kin. Also, the Spark’s energy was fading fast despite being newer, younger than the Traveler. The Traveler had sailed among the stars for far, far longer than the Spark, but had also been far mightier, to begin with.
As the two moved through the endless black, the Traveler understood that the Spark was somehow heading toward the same destination. The two did not communicate, but over time, the Traveler took solace, a kind of grounding contentment in the Spark’s presence.
Cracks, fissures had begun forming within the Spark’s power. The Spark’s glow was weaker now but still burned.
Whether the two would reach their destination together was in doubt, but after so much time, the Traveler decided that it would be good if the Spark succeeded too. Their end goals were probably similar, if not the same.
Everything about their destination, the timing, and even a kind of poetic parallel all practically reeked of the Norns’ meddling. In some ways, it was fitting that a child of Loki would still be alive. Live on, Little One—the thought was selfless, different—this new thing begged to be explored. Perhaps later. Like the Spark’s, the Traveler’s strength was waning, just slower. Wisdom and knowledge would help the Traveler with piercing the Veil, but the Spark did not have these tools, these advantages. Youth and willpower may not be enough.
The Traveler knew the time had almost come; the end of the great journey was at hand. There was no more time to consider the Spark or to wonder if any other family still survived. Preparations had to be made, now. Weapons must be forged from memories, tools from thought.
Everything had a price, and what the Traveler planned would naturally have a high price indeed. But it must be paid. Any other path led to oblivion, and that would be unacceptable.
The Traveler crept towards the veil, waiting for the event, a window of time when it would be possible to save two lives for the price of self, to give up almost everything for a second chance.
Revenge and knowledge, knowledge and revenge.
Chapter 1
Pain lanced across Trav’s back like fiery red stars. Lashings had become a part of life for the last three years, so he endured it, feeding the quiet flame of hatred burning in his soul. When the whipping stopped, he cautiously glanced back. The guard had finally lost interest in beating him, so Trav slowly got up to limp back to work.
He wasn’t sure what the punishment had been for, but there didn’t always need to be a reason. Recently, especially within the last couple months, the whippings had been more frequent. From the rumors he’d heard, Trav’s captors were preparing for war.
What this actually seemed to mean for the slaves had been increased quotas of the red ore that they mined every day...and surlier guards. Trav didn’t really care. Not much mattered anymore—Beth was gone. The entire world seemed to move slower; colors weren’t as bright.
All the pain in his back slowly faded as he plodded through the glyph-lit tunnels. Many things had changed since he’d left Earth. One of his new advantages, something he had managed to keep a secret, was how fast he healed these days. The other slaves weren’t so lucky.
The tunnel he moved down led deeper into the mine complex. He wouldn’t have to travel much longer until reaching the point where most of the human slaves started feeling discomfort or pain. Mining the glowing red ore was dangerous work, and the stuff had a nasty aura—it eroded the health and energy of any human that got too close. The guards could tolerate being near it, but still usually avoided touching it at all costs.
Another of Trav’s new ‘quirks’ was how he was seemingly unaffected by the ore in any way. Unlike his other changes, his ore-tolerance was an open secret among the other slaves. They all kept their mouths shut about it as a matter of survival, though.
The majority of the human slaves usually stayed up top, outside the mine, trying to eke out an existence and help keep everyone else alive. A number of slaves worked in the mine itself, helping cart out debris or dig new tunnels. But this deep, Trav didn’t encounter many other slaves.
Some of the other slaves that came this deep were hopeless, just wandering. Others were lazy, disappearing this far down to kill time in the dark and escape work. Still others were courting death. Very few slaves were like Trav, venturing this far to actually work, searching for the rich ore veins to harvest large amounts of the mysterious red stone. Since the ore worked like a currency of sorts among the slaves and their masters, anyone driven to actually find the stuff in large quantities usually needed a favor for someone...or the quotas might have gone up.
It was always bad when the quotas went up. Always. Trav couldn’t do everything on his own—there was not enough time in a day. Everyone was always punished en masse if the quotas weren’t met. People died every time that happened.
Suddenly, the darkness to one side of the tunnel seemed to swell, and a big, unwashed man with a bald head stepped into Trav’s path. The slave pushed him back, grunting, “Stop blocking my light, puke. Why did you bump me? Give me any food or anything you have in your pockets, and maybe we can forget about this, yeah?”
Trav vaguely remembered seeing the other man around and thought his name might be Duncan. Is it Duncan? Travis wondered. The man’s thick, scraggly red beard had bald spots. ‘Maybe Duncan’ kept moving forward, no doubt expecting Trav to comply with the shakedown.
Not all of the human slaves had had their spirits crushed yet, but some of the unbowed took out their misfortunes on the others. That or they were just assholes to begin with. Duncan was big and accustomed to getting his own way, at least among the other slaves. Down here, he was probably trying to prey on others that were tired of living. Anyone that was searching for death probably wouldn’t care too much about being robbed, after all.
Trav had never thought about it before, but it made sense and was probably another reason that troublemakers ventured down to this part of the mine. Trav had just never put the pieces together before.
Fighting in the mines wasn’t actually forbidden, but the guards would beat slaves for doing anything that annoyed them—-which lately meant anything but work. However, the guard in this section of the mines was not anywhere nearby; Trav had just been beaten and knew where the brute was, after all.
The big, bearded slave shoved Trav backwards again and lunged forward to grab his shoulder, cocking his other hand back to punch. Before striking, he finally looked at Trav full in the face and realized exactly who he was trying to bully. With a swallow, the big man’s fist dipped, and he took a hesitant half-step back.
Trav smiled without humor. “That was a mistake,” he growled. Beth had always hated jerks like this. She’d used to say that the hell of their slavery was made even worse with how some of the humans treated each other. The fact that some people still had to act as guards against others, had to give up on rest to make sure nobody got raped or murdered at night...it was hard. Every time a new batch of slaves was brought in by their captors to replace dead workers or increase productivity, things...always got bad for a while.
And yet, despite the sheer number of predators among the remaining humans, nobody had ever actually tried to lean on Trav before, not even while he’d been mourning after his wife’s death—not until now. There had been a reason for their respect. It seemed he might have to remind everyone about what that was.
Trav grabbed Duncan’s hand on his shoulder in a vice-like grip, stepped back, and slammed his palm into the other man’s hyperextended elbow. The break was quick and savage. Then Trav twisted the man’s broken arm and kicked him in the ribs. All the while he wondered, Is his name Duncan or not? This is going to bug me if I can’t figure it out. Trav finally let go of the bearded man’s hand, and he crumpled to the ground, cradling his crippled arm and desperately stifling his bellows of pain. They both knew that if he made too much noise, it would attract the attention of the guards. That would be bad.
Trav thought the situation was ironic—the environ
ment that had allowed this asshole to treat the other slaves like shit was also what made him desperately hold in his screams, gritting his teeth, sobbing in agony. When he had been younger, Trav might have thought this was justice. Now he knew better; there was no justice. At the end of the day, everyone would still be slaves.
He stomped his foot down next to the writhing man’s head, and the former tough guy flinched. “Hey, what’s your name?” Trav asked.
“Fuck off, you dead son—”
Trav kicked the scumbag in his damaged arm, and the man recoiled, chomping down on a bellow, his throat convulsing. Then Trav conversationally said, “Wrong answer. What is your name?”
The bearded man gritted his teeth in pain and glared sullenly from the floor. “Duncan,” he finally grated.
“I thought so! So, Duncan, you really fucked up. Which I’m sure you know by now, right, Duncan? See, since you were such a wonderful person to me, I can only assume you act like this to the others too when I’m busy saving everyone, including your worthless ass. Let’s just consider this karma, okay? But if I ever notice you roughing up other people, much less doing anything worse, I’m going to kill you. Do we understand each other?”
“You think you’re so tough, just because you’re a freak. If we were back on Earth, I’d end that sm--”
Trav stomped down on the unwashed man’s hand. This time Duncan let a whimper escape, almost a whine. Suddenly, the big man’s good hand darted down into his unkempt clothing, then came up with a shiv. Trav managed to avoid the awkward attack, moving his leg to one side; then he grabbed the man’s wrist in a death grip before slamming it against the rocky ground a few times. When the hand finally opened, Trav grabbed the shiv, slammed it into the wounded man’s leg, then stood and flicked blood off the ugly, improvised blade.
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