EverRealm: A LitRPG Novel (Level Dead Book 1)

by Jake Bible

  But Kip wasn’t bothered by the sight and quickly outpaced me on his way to the cottage.

  “Hello there,” the old woman said. “I am Neiva. And what would your names be?”

  When I got close enough, I realized the cauldron was suspended above the fire by nothing. It hung in the air without any frame or structure to keep it aloft. Dammit. A witch.

  “I am not a witch, young man,” Neiva said.

  Shit, she could read minds.

  “And I cannot read minds,” she said with a sigh. “Your face does not hide your thoughts very well.”

  Kip chuckled.

  “Kip,” he said and extended a hand.

  Neiva smiled at the offered hand and took it, giving it a firm shake. Then her eyes returned to me.

  “Uh, Steve,” said.

  “Kip,” she said. “Uh Steve. A pleasure to meet you on such a fine night as this.” She waved a hand at the cauldron. “Simply a gift from a friend.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” I replied.

  She gave me a weak smile. “It’s my laundry. It is too hot in the day to slave over this fire for hours, so I do my laundry at night. I don’t sleep much at my age, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Kip nodded and gave me a look that distinctly said to shut up.

  “You are Othersiders,” she stated. “And not in great health. We do not see your kind often anymore.”

  “We should have been sent to our save point, but things are a mess on our side of reality,” I said.

  “Save point?” she asked and furrowed her brow. “Oh, yes, the village where your kind appear. I recall Othersiders referring to it as such before becoming their EverRealm selves.”

  This was completely out of character for am NPC to talk to us like she understood the difference between real people and the people of EverRealm. I wasn’t exactly convinced she wasn’t a witch.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Thirsty,” Kip said.

  “Of course, of course,” she said and held out the handle of her laundry paddle. “If you would be so kind as to continue stirring for me, I shall fetch us all some tea. Tea by moonlight is one of the last great pleasures in life, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” Kip said as he took the paddle.

  I waited until she’d gone inside the cottage before turning to Kip and saying, “We should keep going. This lady is creeping me out.”

  “No,” Kip said as he stirred. “She’s good.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “Have you met her before?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t say yeah.”

  He shrugged and kept stirring. Neiva was taking a while with the tea and I grew restless, so I walked a few yards down the hill to a pile of stones. It wasn’t a random pile, I could see that, but it didn’t look like anything specific. A grave? A filled in old well? An old trash pit?

  Kip whistled and I walked back up to the fire where Neiva was waiting, a tray of mugs and a pot of tea in her hands.

  “I don’t have cakes,” she said and winked at me. “Not that Uh Steve would eat anything I offer. Still think me to be a witch?”

  “It’s Steve,” I said. “No uh before it.”

  “Steve,” she said and bowed her head. “Take a mug. Relax.”

  I took a mug, but didn’t relax. I also didn’t sip from the mug although the tea did smell delicious. Strong and fruity.

  Kip took a mug with one hand while he continued stirring the laundry with the other.

  “Oh, my, let me take that,” Neiva said as she set the tray down on a small stump off to the side of the fire. “You enjoy your tea.”

  Kip did. He downed it quickly, causing Neiva to break out in a pleased cackle.

  “Pour yourself some more,” she said as she took over the laundry duty once again. “Drink up. You have a long walk ahead of you before you reach your destination.”

  “Friends,” Kip said after filling his mug and sipping from it.

  I stared at him as the bruises on his face lightened. Maybe it was a trick of the firelight, but I could swear a couple of his gashes healed over to thin lines in seconds.

  “I have not seen more of you,” Neiva said.

  She snapped her fingers and the fire died down to nothing but coals. The cauldron moved away from the heat and settled onto the ground.

  “Oh, come on,” I muttered.

  Neiva only grinned at me. Her teeth were surprisingly straight and white. I expected them to be yellow and pointing all kinds of directions.

  “I will say that there is an energy about tonight that tells me all is not well with the village,” she said. “I can smell the death in the air.”

  She raised her nose and took a deep breath.

  “Do you smell it, Kip?”

  Kip sniffed, and after a second, he nodded.

  “Steve?”

  I sniffed, but only smelled woodsmoke and the tea in my hands.

  “You will,” she said even though I never gave her an answer.

  Kip drank the rest of his tea then eyed me. It was a look that Holo gave me all the time. I was acting like an idiot and being rude. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then raised the mug to him and downed it in two gulps.

  It was as delicious as it smelled.

  Every part of my body tingled instantly, and I felt years younger like I’d had the best night’s sleep ever in my life.

  “Not everyone is an enemy, Steve,” Neiva said and held out a hand.

  I gave her the mug and she took Kip’s as well, setting them both on the tray.

  “Now, if you will excuse me,” she said with a sigh, “I must wring out my wash and set it to dry. I wish you both well on your journey.”

  “Yeah,” Kip said and clapped me on the shoulder. “Bye.”

  He started walking before I could say anything. Neiva watched me then glanced at her cauldron of laundry.

  “Right, sure,” I said. “I’ll leave you to it then. Thanks for the tea.”

  “May I give you a word of advice, Steve?” she asked as I began to leave.

  I paused. “Sure. What?”

  “There are many planes of existence,” she said. “More than any of us will ever know. Open your mind and accept where you are. If you can accept that, and stop fighting it, then all those planes will open up to you.”

  I had no clue what she was talking about, but I nodded politely.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Steve,” she said. “And good luck to you.”

  Eleven

  I caught up to Kip and we walked for hours. We hiked through the tall grass, up and down the rolling hills until the three suns began to rise. In front of us.

  “Wait,” I said and pointed at the suns. “Shouldn’t they be back that way?”

  “No,” Kip said.

  “Are you sure? Because I swear they should—”

  “No,” he said again, cutting me off.

  “Fine, fine,” I said and shut up.

  We kept on hiking.

  A little before midday, I was ready to fall on the ground and take a nap right there in the grass. But Kip was having none of that and glared at me when I suggested we take a break.

  “How much farther is it?” I asked when we crested yet another hill.

  “There,” he said and pointed down into a wide valley that was split down the middle by a lazy, muddy river.

  In the center of the valley, sitting on the river’s bank, was a village. The village.

  Kip gasped.

  I gasped.

  We stared at the village for a long while.

  “Well, that sucks shit,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Kip agreed.

  “I think we know where Jeremy ended up,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Kip agreed.

  The village was half-destroyed. Many of the huts and buildings were smoking ruins and the place was overrun.

&n
bsp; Overrun by the undead.

  Kip sat down in the grass and shoved enough aside so he could see the village from our spot on the hill. I did the same and we studied the scene for a good twenty minutes.

  “They’re staying close,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “Why?” I asked. Kip didn’t respond. I didn’t expect him to. He knew a good rhetorical question when he heard it.

  We studied the village a couple minutes more before Kip stood up, shook out his cloak, letting the apples drop to the ground, and put it on. I raised my eyebrows as I looked up at him and he held out a hand. I took it and he helped me to my feet then pointed at the village.

  “Save point,” he said. “No choice.”

  “I think we still have a choice,” I said. “It’s not the only save point in this world.”

  Technically, I was right. Also, technically, the next closest save point was probably a week’s journey from where we stood. There was no way we’d survive in EverRealm for a week without our characters intact and all the advantages they held for us.

  The thing with the Domains was that we’d taken all safety governors off. All protocols and regulations had been stripped so that when we fully integrated with our worlds, they’d be as real as real could get. Ming, Coz, and surprisingly, Sandra, had insisted that if we were going to live forever in the Domains, then we had to have true stakes to risk. Death had to be on the table or there was no point in embracing our new lives.

  I was of a mindset that I could handle some restrictions if it meant not dying horribly at the hands of a hungry dragon (or techno assassin, in my Domain), but I was overruled. Even Holo insisted that the Domains contain real danger.

  That meant that the undead down in the valley, the ones wandering aimlessly in the destroyed village, could rip us apart and that would be that. I did not want to be ripped apart. I really didn’t. But the best way to prevent that was to get to the save point and become my EverRealm character.

  Except that my survival wasn’t the first thing that came to mind at that second. Yes, it was always there in the back of my head, but what really struck me was the fact that after all of our planning, after everything we’d put in place, after years of hard work, I was standing on a hill, inside a Domain, and looking at a small horde of goddamn undead.

  The apocalypse had followed us.

  Or preceded us, as the case was.

  “How do we play this?” I asked Kip. “We have no weapons, and we aren’t protected by the game in any way. They bite us and we’re dead men.”

  Kip nodded and picked up a couple of the apples he’d dropped from his cloak. He stuffed them in his pockets than picked up some more and handed them to me.

  “Really?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  I took the apples, filled my pockets, then bent down and filled my hands. He did the same and we started down the hill.

  Halfway down, he pointed to the left. I knew what he was doing and nodded as I moved towards the right. We needed to flank the village. Coming at it head on would only concentrate the undead. We wanted them spread out. Divide and conquer.

  I watched the undead move about the village and something didn’t seem right. After a few seconds, I realized that they were too structured.

  The undead back on earth walked in random patterns. They went where their senses told them to go. Water dripping would bring a dozen of them to a broken rain gutter. Branches scraping against brick would lead them for blocks. A piece of stonework falling from a brownstone would create a curious horde almost right away. The undead were led by the sounds of chaos.

  But there, in the smoking village, the undead were following paths. They were walking in obvious circuits around and through the dirt roads. Some would stop and almost look like they were talking to each other, but all they did was groan and moan for a few seconds then move along, each one returning to their prescribed path.

  Their prescribed path.

  Holy shit. The undead were fulfilling their programmed movements and actions just like the NPCs they’d been.

  If they were supposed to fetch eggs from the farmer girl that stood by her simple cart, then they shambled over, stood there before the cart, waited the allotted time, then shambled off to the next location that was written into their storylines. The undead farmer girl stayed by her simple cart, several dozen eggs smashed and broken at her feet, and waited for the next undead villager to approach and repeat the useless interaction.

  This was good. That meant they were predictable. Something the undead back on earth weren’t.

  I crept closer, careful to go still when an undead head turned to look my way, careful not to step on a stray stick and attract attention, careful to move in a fluid motion that blended with the landscape. Being one with your surroundings was Undead Survival 101.

  It did suck that I had to use those skills in EverRealm, but it was what it was.

  When I was close enough, I threw an apple as far as I could and watched about six of the undead whip their heads around at the noise. They moved towards it and I took my chance, rushing quickly into the gap they left and straight into the village.

  I knew where I was going and, due to the predictable movements of the undead, I knew what would be in my way.

  Eight undead villagers shuffled across the main dirt road, fulfilling their looped destiny like they did every single day. I waited for them to pass then sprinted down the road towards the burned-out shell of what had been a church. Well, not really a church since that wasn’t how religion worked in EverRealm, but close enough.

  A stone altar stood in the middle of the smoking ruins and I picked my way carefully over to it. There was still plenty of heat coming up from the ash and coals that filled the space. I had to cover my mouth with the crook of my elbow to keep from coughing and bringing the undead down on me.

  When I made it to the altar, I placed both hands on the smooth, stone surface. Then yanked them back fast! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!

  The palms of my hands were instantly blistered. I blew on them, although that didn’t really do shit to ease the pain. Not that I had time to stand around blowing on my hands anyway. Prescribed routes or not, the undead NPCs would eventually notice me and then the chaos randomizer of their programming would kick in and I’d have myself an undead problem right quick.

  Steeling myself for more pain, I set my hands on the altar again and gritted my teeth.

  It hurt like hell, but I endured it as my heads-up display came online and the bottom right-hand corner of my vision began to fill with information.

  Welcome back, Torgo. Are you ready to play?

  Torgo? Goddammit, Ming! The son of a bitch was supposed to have changed our character names to our real names now that we were going to be living in the Domains permanently. I’d changed everyone’s name in Technopolis.

  Torgo…

  “Yes,” I replied. “Please change name to Steve.”

  That command cannot be completed.

  “Fine,” I said. I didn’t expect it to work. Ming was the Domain’s admin, not me. “Show stats.”

  Of course.

  Character class: Ranger

  Character alignment: Chaotic Good

  Character level: 8

  Health: 75%

  Strength: 85%

  Agility: 90%

  Magic: 15%

  Armor: leather, no bonus

  Coin: 200 gold pieces, 155 silver pieces, 0 copper pieces

  Inventory: Long bow with 18 regular arrows, 6 magical. 1 regular short sword. 1 long sword of Breaking (Level 16). 2 tunics. 1 pair of breeches. 1 hooded cloak. 1 satchel with 1 wine skin, full. 8 pieces of jerky and 1 muffin, moldy.

  Well, that was better than nothing.

  My Health was decent, as were my Strength and Agility. But I was only a Level 8 Ranger which meant anything above my level, which was pretty much everything, could do a good job kicking my ass if I wasn’t careful.

  I glanced down at myself and w
as glad to see my short sword on my right hip, my long sword on my left hip, and the string of my bow across my chest, the weapon hanging from my back along with the quiver of arrows.

  My satchel was hanging over my shoulder, my food and drink inside. Coin was wherever coin was stored. If I’d had any treasure or magic items, they’d have been with the coins, off in that inventory limbo that games held for their characters. I could access them when needed, but otherwise, out of sight, out of mind.

  There was a crunch behind me and I whipped around, pulling my long sword from its sheath. It was a nice sword, a sword of Breaking at Level 16. That meant if I clashed with any other sword that was under Level 16, the opposing sword would shatter. Unfortunately, many of the swords that I would come in contact with were at levels way higher than 16. Still, it was better than a regular sword.

  “Kip,” I said as he hurried to me and the altar. “You good?”

  “No,” Kip said and pushed past me to set his hands on the stone. He hissed at the pain, but didn’t pull back.

  Welcome, Kip, appeared in the corner of my vision.

  What the hell? His name was changed? Dammit, Ming.

  I swiped the heads-up display away, so I could focus on Kip.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Kip’s outfit became more vibrant, his cloak a shimmering black instead of the dull brown it had been on our journey. The T-shirt was still there, but it appeared as clean as if it had been freshly washed, the Jamz Cola logo sparkling in the sunlight. Kip closed the cloak tight and pushed up the billowing sleeves. His hands began to glow orange.

  “Oh, shit,” I said and turned to face the village. Kip didn’t go orange unless he was about to throw down some serious battle magic. “What are we looking at?”

  “Jeremy,” Kip said.

  Several dozen of the undead villagers had followed Kip, but at the front of them was someone that obviously wasn’t from the village.

  Jeremy.

  He hissed at us and started to move from an angry shamble into a hunger-filled run. Jeremy had always been in great shape when he was alive, so his undead corpse was in just as great of shape and heading right for us.

  I sheathed my sword and pulled my bow, knocking an arrow immediately.