The Quest_Last Gods Book 1

by Linton Bowers

  “That’s just great!” A thought struck him then. “Say, do you think you can train me in weapons so I have a fighting chance?”

  In the old version of the game players were able to train each other, but Actaeon's skills would still be low. The training received from another player didn't bypass the need to grind and level up the skill. But a weapon skill would give him a better chance to hit and do greater damage than if he just picked up a sword with no sword abilities for it.

  “Once again, I am sorry. Skills are only taught to the top competitors with strict instructions to not share those teachings. At present there is only one here with any trainable skills,” Cane replied.

  “Who is it? Maybe I can ask them to train me. At the very least it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

  “Tanveer is the one with skills. But as I said the only way to learn is through the masters.” He looked at the cage across the aisle from Actaeon then lowered his voice. “Besides, Tanveer doesn’t play well with others. There is no way in hell you will get anything from that one,” Cane said.

  “I have to try. How else…” Another more pressing thought came to him. “Cane, are you an NPC?” In the old game, player characters had a small blue or red diamond hovering over their heads. The color was a product of the faction the player was aligned with.

  “I am a player. All of us here are. Well, those of us with collars that is. I believe the masters and their foreman are as close to NPCs as it gets.”

  “How is that possible? There were only ten players selected for the initial beta. There are way more than ten people here, and the gear was just sent out. I paid to have mine overnighted. This doesn’t make sense.”

  Cane let out another long sigh. “Actaeon, if you come back tomorrow afternoon I will explain. For now, I must get some rest. I will be fighting tomorrow and I need my strength. Just, whatever you do, do not die. There is no respawn, no starting over, and you will not log off. Good night.”

  With that Cane laid down putting his back to Actaeon who decided to let the man rest. If what he says is true then they all needed to get some sleep. Actaeon laid down in the filthy hay. He tried to sleep, but no respawn? He let that sink in and the other comment, no log off. What did that leave? Perm-a-death?

  It felt like the floor fell away and Actaeon was free falling. What did perm-a-death mean in this scenario? In other games, it meant starting over. Creating a new Character, or toon as they were commonly called, and starting as a level 1 with no abilities or skills to speak of.

  What would perm-a-death mean for his body? Would he be a vegetable for the rest of his life? An empty husk his mother would worry over until she died of old age or a broken heart? Or would his time in this version of Last Gods be over?

  Those morbid thoughts kept Actaeon from falling asleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  Heavy footsteps grew louder as they got closer.

  “Get up, dog!” The owner of the heavy feet kicked the bars to Actaeon’s cage. “It's time to go. I hope you got plenty of rest. I got some cash on the line and I want a good show,” He said.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not doing a damn thing for you. How bout this, I’m going to keep my ass right here until you decide I’m a waste of time and you let me go. How does that grab you? Not that I give a fuck,” Actaeon snapped.

  He looked up to see a large human with sun stained skin and a mohawk. the man was smiling. The guy just stared down at Actaeon for long uncomfortable minutes.

  “Why don’t you draw a portrait?” Actaeon said. “It’ll last longer.”

  “Oh shit!” Actaeon heard a distant feminine voice, one that sounded vaguely familiar.

  “What the fuck?” Actaeon looked from side to side and up and down.

  “I really enjoy the ones that think they are tough. There is nothing I love more than breaking little pigs like you,” the man responded with a buttery smooth voice. He stepped back from the cage door.

  “Did you hear that?” Actaeon asked.

  “Get him!” Was the mohawk sporting man’s response.

  The two cat-men from the previous day appeared. They were a whirlwind of motion as they threw open the door and yanked Actaeon to his feet. They took him by the arms and rushed him down the corridor.

  “You better let me go right now,” Actaeon spat. “I swear I will…”

  A blow to his stomach stopped the protests. The tiger striped cat-man laughed while the leopard held his fist in front of Actaeon’s face. Apparently, he had no compunction about giving him another.

  “Do not resist,” Cane shouted. “You are going to need your strength and health for the match.”

  Air refused to find its way back into Actaeon’s lungs. The punch came out of nowhere and did a thorough job of pacifying Actaeon.

  Something flashed on the left side of his vision. At first, Actaeon thought it was unconsciousness creeping up on him. After a second the flashing of red continued but he didn’t feel faint. He looked to the left but the flashing moved with his eyes staying far to the left. He concentrated on it.

  A half empty health bar snapped into place on the top left of his sight. His first thought was that it was pretty cool. His second thought after processing his current health was not cool. How was he supposed to go into a fight with half health?

  Fine, if I’m going into the fight with half health so are you! He thought.

  Actaeon let his weight fall to Leopard’s side as if he were losing his footing. The cat-man shifted to hold him up. Actaeon leaped up bringing his elbow into the leopard spotted fucker’s nose. The cat-man howled. Tiger-striped struck him in the back sending him to the ground face first.

  With the situation being worse than he thought Actaeon was forced to reevaluate his position. On one hand, there was the need to resist his captors with every bit of energy he had. On the other side, there was the need to survive long enough for his resistance to pay off.

  He didn’t fight as they pulled him back to his feet. The cat-men pulled him along with his feet dragging. The effect on his health was a point lost every five seconds or so. Without a clock or timer, it was hard to tell.

  A clock appeared in the top right corner of his vision.

  07:05

  “That's convenient,” Actaeon mumbled in response the cat-men tightened their grip on his arms. Pain lanced through his biceps as claws broke skin. “There is no need for that. I submit. I won't fight you guys. Let me walk on my own two feet.”

  The cat-men stopped and looked at each other. Actaeon took that delay to get his feet underneath him. He took a step in the direction the cats had been leading him.

  “See, no more problems,” he said.

  “No problem, no hurt,” tiger-stripe said.

  The continued to hold his arms, but their grip loosened enough to dislodge their claws.

  Actaeon spun pulling his arms free. He swung hitting tiger-stripe in the jaw. He dropped dodging a blow to his head. Actaeon placed his hands on the ground and kicked up with both feet. His heels connected with the leopard’s chin.

  “Who am I to not take advantage of the situation?” Actaeon said.

  The cats rushed him. Actaeon held up his arms and closed his eyes. It was clear that they were a much higher level than he was. Even the blow to the nose that caused leopard spots to howl was nothing more than an annoyance. They grabbed his arms and spun him around.

  The large door swung open. Morning sunlight broke the darkness and blinded him. Actaeon tried shielding his eyes but the cat-men’s grip did not waiver. He received another set of claws in the arm as punishment. He was forced to blink away the blindness.

  When he could see again the stands were full of people that sat quietly staring down at him. Actaeon was amazed at the fact that no one made a sound.

  Across the packed earth on top of the wooden stands was a platform. Thick canvas formed a sun shade that obscured the fine details of the figures seated on the platform. A podium stood at the end of the platform
closest to the arena floor. A man approached and began speaking.

  “Welcome my fellow citizens. The time has come once again to test the mettle of a new athlete.” His voice was smooth as silk and carried throughout the stadium without the aid of a microphone and speakers. Not that those things existed in this world. Actaeon suspected there was some form of magic aiding the man.

  “You must all be wondering how we will determine this man’s worth. Well, rest assured, my friends. For we have a special treat for you!”

  The crowd came to life for the first time. They roared with glee. The speaker waited for them to calm down before speaking again.

  “You have seen Walter the Hated decimate noobs. We have witnessed the terrible might of the dire boars. We have even watched in rapt fascination as wraiths tore a man’s soul asunder. What we have for you today is so much better.”

  Better? Actaeon thought. None of that sounds good to begin with. How could there be better?

  “For your viewing entertainment, we present to you the reenactment of the hero Prike Terrassus trial three. In which The Mage Lord Alfred Dennard cast a spell that created two copies of Prike. Those three then had to defeat the Demon Lord Necrosis!”

  The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers once more.

  Actaeon never paid much attention to the game’s lore, but he was familiar with Prike. Many players modeled their toon after the legendary hero. Prike, in turn, was a combination of Hercules and Conan the Barbarian. The question was, who would be Prike and who would be the demon. Considering Prike was cloned twice over he didn’t think that was going to be him.

  The double doors under the podium opened. “Ladies and gentlemen, rogues and heroines! I present THE DEMON LORD NECROSIS!”

  All the people in the stand leaped to their feet and the cheers were deafening. A creature twice as tall as a man stepped out of the shadows of the doorway. Four cat-men prodded it with spears. The tips of the spears glowed with a golden light that flared when touched to the demon.

  “A real fucking demon lord,” Actaeon mumbled.

  CHAPTER 6

  The announcer raised his arms up. A blue light surrounded his hands and forearms.

  “And to fight off the horrendous beast, Prike in triplicate!”

  A beam as wide as basketball shot out from his hands and slammed into Actaeon’s chest. The beam pushed him back, then yanked him forward. The blue light surrounded his chest and lifted him off his feet. Two tendrils arched off of the sides and hit the ground. The blue tendrils slowly rose in unison. It left two pairs of grime covered feet on the ground. As the beams rose more of the Actaeon clones were revealed until they were completed.

  The beam winked out. Actaeon landed hard on his ass.

  The twins grabbed his arms and pulled him up. “This is some surreal shit,” they said in unison. “Oh shit.” They raised their arms and pointed to one another. “Jinx!” Every word was in stereo as they spoke as one. “You owe me a coke. Ha, two. Ha!”

  “Would you two stop,” Actaeon snapped. “We're about to die here!”

  “Oh yeah,” they said. Their faces, his face really, took on a somber expression. “Sorry dude.”

  “Would it be too much to ask of you guys to not talk at the same time?” Actaeon asked.

  “Would be nice,” they said.

  “How about just one of you respond?” They nodded. “Okay good. Any ideas?” The clones stared at each other but neither spoke. Actaeon let out a sigh. “Let me guess, you're both waiting for the other to speak?” They nodded again. “Fine, both of you talk,” Actaeon snapped.

  “We think…”

  BOOM!

  The demon slammed his fist down onto right clone. Blood and guts splattered the remaining two. The crowd went wild.

  “Oh shit!” Left clone shouted.

  “Run!” Actaeon darted away from the demon. It stayed where it was and licked the gore out of its first. The creature dropped down to all fours over the remains of the clone it killed.

  Actaeon's mind went into raid mode. The first thing he did was will a group request to his double. An icon with his face appeared to his left. It showed Clone’s health bar in red, mana in blue, and Stamina in yellow. There was a split second where he berated himself for not having done it sooner. He let it go since he wasn’t sure it would work. The chances of survival were much higher with three than two.

  He reached the wall and turned left running along the perimeter. With a thought, his own stamina bar appeared below his health bar. He was going to have to take the time to set up his heads up display, or HUD, if he survived the fight.

  His stamina bar was quickly depleting as he ran, so was the clone’s. They needed a plan.

  Step one, gather data.

  Actaeon selected his target.

  Demon Lord

  Lvl ???

  “That wasn’t helpful other than to let me know I’m screwed,” he said.

  In the version he was used to question marks meant the character was twenty levels or higher than you. At level one with no weapons, there was no way to defeat a level, who the fuck knows, Demon Lord.

  He took stock of everything around him as he ran. He passed one of the doors and looked as he did. To his great disappointment, it was closed. However, there was a guard standing on the arena side of the door holding a spear with a glowing tip. Then there were walls topped by stands and cheering and booing people.

  Clone and Actaeon met at the opening of the large doors across the arena from the doors they had entered it. They stopped just short of running into each other.

  “What should we do?” Clone asked. His words came out between gasps for air.

  “I was hoping you might have an idea,” Actaeon replied. “Things seem kind of hopeless. We're level one and that thing,” he pointed at the demon, “is way beyond us. We need to come up with a good strategy or we're dead. Hell, we need the greatest strategy this or any world has ever seen. I think the two of us together can come up with something.”

  “There are a couple things you need to know,” Clone said. “First, I’m level five.” Actaeon's jaw fell open. “Second, I’m not as smart as you.” He looked down and away.

  “What do you mean? How are you four levels above me? What does it mean that you are not as smart as me? How could you even know that?”

  “So that’s what that is like,” Clone said. “You should work on asking just one question at a time.”

  “I get that a lot.”

  “I know.”

  “Back to…”

  “I feel like something is missing,” Clone blurted out. Tears started streaming down his cheeks. “I know I should be able to figure out what, but I can’t.” Clone said. A sob burst from his mouth.

  Actaeon placed his hand on Clone’s shoulder. “We will figure this out. We're going to get out of here. Out of this fight and out of this whole fucked up situation.”

  Clone wiped his arm across his face before looking up. “You mean it? Both of us?” His face lit up obscuring the misery he had just been displaying.

  Actaeon felt a warmth grow in his chest. While Clone came from him he was not him. Did not being a complete Actaeon make him a whole new person? Either way, Actaeon wanted nothing more than to see him get a chance at building a life for himself.

  “You have my word on that, buddy.”

  A loud slurping noise brought Actaeon’s and Clone’s attention back to the demon. It was on all fours licking and sucking the remains of Dead Clone off the ground. Clone wretched. Actaeon felt his own gorge rise in his throat but was able to keep it down. He grabbed Clone’s shoulder and bent down to talk in Clone’s ear. Clone was still dry heaving.

  “I have an idea. It’s going to be dangerous, but I can’t do it without you. Are you okay with that?”

  “Why bother asking? I’m just a clone made from some asshole’s magic spell. It doesn’t matter what happens to me. You need to make it and go on. That is what matters,” Clone replied.

  “Th
at isn’t true. I don’t know if you are going to dissipate after the asshole’s spell wears off or you will you stick around.” Actaeon pointed his thumb in the direction of the demon that was still eating. “If that one didn’t disappear after being squished I’m willing to bet you won’t either.”

  “That is a good point. So what’s this plan of your’s?”

  CHAPTER 7

  The plan was simple, the execution not so much.

  “Run!” Actaeon shouted to his magic clone.

  The demon rose up from its meal. All that remained of the dearly departed clone was a dark red stain in the sand. The demon ate every bit of him. It was going to pay for that. While Actaeon didn’t get to know him he felt pain at the loss. That clone could have been just like the remaining one, a lot like himself.

  He ran around the left side of the arena while clone was running along the right. Actaeon stopped when he was directly to the left of the demon. He jumped up and down waving his arms to get its attention.

  “Hey ugly! Over here! Did you like the taste of clone Actaeon? Come get some of the real deal!”

  The monster turned its head and watched as Actaeon jumped and yelled. Its response was to lick its lips then turn its body to face him.

  Actaeon stopped jumping. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said. He half turned to the right ready to bolt.

  The demon lurched forward. In the blink of an eye, it went from the center of the arena to the wall. Actaeon dove out of the way. The demon’s thigh clipped his feet sending him into a spin.

  “Oh shit,” clone shouted.

  Actaeon spat out a mouth full of dirt and blood. He pushed up with his arms. His head spun and pain smack dab in the middle of his face caused his eyes to water. He shifted his weight to his right arm so he could touch his face where it hurt.

  “Ghaaa…”

  Pain exploded out from his nose. There was no doubt it was broken. Fresh blood on his fingers explained where the blood in his mouth came from.