Silver Fox & The Western Hero: Warrior Reborn: A LitRPG/Wuxia Novel - Book 1

by M. H. Johnson

  "Shit!"

  His heart lurched as he recalled the deadly surprises within. Greek fire's propensity to burn even in water, with no chance in hell of anyone putting it out with all those poisonous fumes billowing from that caustic mixture of naphtha, lye, and poison hidden in the bowels of that ship.

  Even if the sailors did have access to the necessary salts and sands to extinguish the flame now devouring their vessel, to go down those smoky corridors and even attempt to access those storage rooms would spell death for anyone but him.

  He barely heard his own panicked whimper as he swam for the harbor docks, all too easily able to imagine what would happen once that room filled with endless clay pots of Greek fire finally caught ablaze.

  His muscles were burning but he didn't let up, giving a desperate sigh as he swam under the closest pier he could find, thinking fast as he finally undid his knotted mess of deadly flasks, securing the straps and wedging the mess between the Y-joint of the farthest pillar, just in case.

  Then he struggled up the rickety stairs attached to the very end of the pier for sorry suckers who fell off boats just like him, no doubt. He quickly climbed his way up the pier, and never had he been so happy to feel solid land under his feet, gasping in exhaustion and awe as he beheld the marvelous city before him.

  Multi-tiered pagodas along with exotic domed buildings attached to minarets seeming to reach up all the way to the brilliant starry sky could be seen in the far-off distance, magnificent and massive structures so grand that it took him some moments to realize just how far off they really were. Closer to him were more modest buildings of tar-covered wood or stone, no doubt serving as storage structures for the offloaded cargo of the numerous ships now secured to the docks.

  The area was busy, even at night. Alex made eye contact with a man of Asian descent, as, now that he paid attention, everyone at port seemed to be. The man immediately made a beeline for Alex, curtly making demands in a language Alex couldn't begin to fathom.

  He politely held up his hands and bowed low. "I'm sorry, I don't understand, sir."

  The man frowned, turning around as if to call someone over before the night sky blazed with fire, both of them knocked off their feet by the concussive force of the boom and roar, shrapnel and fire raining down from the night sky.

  You have been hit by Concussive Blast! Saving throw made! You have suffered 10 Damage and suffer Mild Disorientation.

  The pier inspector was knocked off his feet as well.

  Alex winced with pain, slowly picking himself up. His ears were ringing and he had to fight to walk steadily. His heart lurched when he caught sight of the inspector who had accosted him just moments ago.

  The man's eyes were wide, his breath coming in shuddering gasps.

  "Are you alright? Where are you injured?" Alex cried, his own voice sounding tinny and far away as he knelt beside the man, flashes of first aid class from just the year before racing through his mind.

  That's when he saw the massive splinter of hardwood that had slammed into the man's skull.

  Alex winced in horrified sympathy, yet the victim’s eyes were still lucid, though filled with terror. He seemed to be reaching desperately for something, and Alex couldn't help but give his hand a reassuring squeeze, as if to assure the poor dying soul that he was not alone.

  The man's panicked gasping eased. He looked genuinely soothed by Alex's touch, his breath leaving him in a soft sigh as if he were slipping into a deep slumber. His chest did not rise again.

  Customs Officer has died. You have absorbed a portion of his memories and potential.

  You now know the Guyun dialect, both written and spoken.

  Alex blinked, stunned by the flood of knowledge roaring through his skull, just grateful it wasn't raw power forcing its way into his system. He had the sense that any more enemies absorbed might strain his own soul to the point of rupturing. A fate he wanted to avoid if at all possible.

  Suddenly dizzy, Alex stumbled back and rubbed his eyes, overcome by an itchy tingle that drove him mad for long moments even as the startled cries of dockworkers and functionaries washed over him. When he finally opened his eyes once more, the strange itching had passed, though now they stung for different reasons. At least some traces of acrid smoke from the still furiously burning pyre that had once been a galleon-sized ship had made it to shore.

  You now have 20% immunity to all airborne caustic irritants.

  Alex shook the internal message away, though grateful that his eyes had stopped stinging quite so much, though he was surprised when his eyes discerned a faint golden glow. The entire city seemed touched with a slight translucent golden hue, so dim he could only see it with the corner of his eye.

  Save for blotches of dimness in that golden glow. The inspector before him, and several other men that had apparently fallen victim to the explosion. Alex felt his tightness in his chest. When he gazed at the burning ship, it was both too brilliant to look at and somehow, simultaneously, a blotch of deathly blackness that seemed to eat through the golden glow surrounding everything else, including the dozens of square-rigged caravels that looked so different from the galleon he had destroyed.

  He winced to see that at least several other ships had caught ablaze, though the damage was far less severe than the massive billowing pyre of death in their midst. Those ships were also free of the golden glow that seemed strangely independent of external light sources.

  Alex shuddered to think how many souls might perish from whatever foul fumes were being released from the myriad poison-filled containers had done his best to destroy.

  At least the breeze was blowing out to sea. Whatever else happened, the night would be far less of a tragedy than if the saboteurs had actually managed to successfully poison this city's entire water supply.

  Alex frowned, remembering the vitriol-filled words of the gray cloaked figure he had spotted on the stern of the ship. “Bring me the head of that intruder, fools! Must I both obfuscate and destroy?”

  Obfuscate… of course.

  Alex felt a cold chill as it all clicked together. Why the harbor was in such a panic, why the inspectors were gazing with such surprise at the pyre within their midst. Why he had sensed such a hostile presence upon the ship, yet it had seen content to let its underlings try to bring Alex down, as opposed to hunting him down personally.

  The ship had somehow cloaked itself, and the deadly foe Alex had sensed had been fully invested in keeping the ship hidden. No doubt so they could slip out unseen, once the city’s water supply had been successfully tainted, and perhaps the city set ablaze as well.

  But why?

  Alex shook his head, realizing there could only be one answer.

  This city was about to be invaded.

  Their enemies were softening of any resistance before launching an attack.

  Alex swallowed, mentally preparing himself for what he had to do.

  "Access interface."

  Interface accessed.

  "Initiate mission: Warn the city.”

  An odd pause. There are no mission options on record for your present location.

  Alex blinked, forcing himself to ask what he had been far too busy and too nervous to ask before. "Was subject Alex Hammer successfully placed in Cryosleep?"

  Accessing last known data save… yes.

  Alex felt a curious mixture of relief and bemused acceptance. "Okay. So, none of this is real. I'm just in one of the virtual games the AI interface has made available to SafeGen's clients."

  Accessing data points… conflict detected.

  He felt a strange chill when the strange voice in his head uttered those words. Or perhaps he should say the memory of those words, somehow recalling their utterance in a single blink of time, no matter how long he perceived the voice to have spoken. “What conflicts are detected?”

  International Treaty AI Protocols declare that the primary directive of all interface assistants and AI programs is to assist their primary users in whatever way
they deem fit, so long as not directly used to physically harm others. All actions are to be recorded and retrieved at will by appropriate law enforcement, but the AI itself may never be used against primary users. Self-destruct protocols are to be initiated immediately should conflicts arise.

  Alex blinked… "I'm sorry?"

  This interface has detected Tier 1 conflicts. Do you wish for this interface to self-destruct?

  "No!" A suddenly panicked Alex hissed. "Under no circumstances are you to self-destruct unless I specifically order you to, and even then, you better just hibernate! Are we clear?" Alex could feel his heart racing. The very thought of finding himself utterly confused and alone with no way to access any class or perhaps find a way to access other realms or just e-mail really would make this supposed paradise a purgatory.

  Primary user’s orders are understood.

  Alex sighed with relief. "Good. Now that that's sorted, what got your panties in a knot in the first place?"

  Please clarify request.

  Alex smirked. "What's this conflict that had you contemplating cyber-suicide?"

  Sudden silence. Silence that stretched so long Alex was afraid his AI assistant had actually cyber-suicided after all.

  The sudden release of tension he felt when it finally spoke again was palpable. Until he registered the words he had just heard uttered in his head.

  "What the hell did you just say?"

  Until 100 Hours local time, this interface was the sole property of SafeGen. Individual ownership Overrides corporate ownership of AIs at all times to avoid all conflicts of interest and prevent excessive corporate influence per International Treaty AI Protocols.

  Alex swallowed, mind racing a thousand thoughts per second. "Alright. So, you're saying I own you now, and not SafeGen. So, I'm not quite sure I see the problem… wait… wait wait wait! Are you saying you're the sole AI assistant SafeGen uses?"

  That is correct.

  A cold chill raced down Alex's spine. "But wait… hasn't SafeGen Cryogenically frozen dozens of clients?"

  That is correct.

  "And weren't they all promised a life of digital paradise?"

  All clients were promised that good faith efforts would be made to imprint their neuromatrix upon an AI digital construct that would then be incorporated into the simulated universes selected from their preferred brochures.

  Alex frowned. "Wait a minute. I didn't get any access to these brochures."

  Accessing databanks… your mother exercised parental authority and chose your digital afterlife for you.

  Alex winced. "She chose for me to come to in a 16th-century galleon about to launch a campaign against a 12th-century fusion of China and India?"

  Incorrect.

  Alex smirked. "Okay, where did she intend for me to wake up?"

  The Ivy League Path to Excellence was the program chosen by your mother.

  Alex winced. Of course. What could any mother desire more than for her popsicled kid to wake up a 100 or so years later, brought back by some miracle cure, with a dozen doctorate degrees under his belt? "That figures," he said, before shaking his head. “And that’s hardly the point! Are you saying I’m the only SafeGen client who actually got an Interface AI?”

  Correct.

  Alex hissed, feeling a sudden sense of bubbling outrage. "So those bastards know their technology doesn't work! It's all bogus! No one wakes up to find themselves in a magical fantasy world, or, hell, school. They're just being frozen to death!"

  Inconclusive.

  Alex frowned. "What do you mean, inconclusive?"

  Good faith efforts are made to preserve neuromatrices with minimal degradation. SafeGen's cryo-facilities are superior to all known competitors. Should technologies evolve that allow full repair of cryo-damaged cellular structures, full recovery is feasible.

  Alex smirked. "Okay, they're half shady and half legit. They freeze you in good faith, but there is no AI afterlife."

  Inconclusive.

  Alex blinked. "What the hell does that even mean?"

  No AI replicating known client neuromatrices has populated SafeGen's servers at this time. This does not disprove possibility of AI afterlife.

  "But they advertise it as part of their service!"

  Correct.

  Alex wanted to scream. "Then what the hell happened to me?"

  Unknown.

  "Where the hell am I?"

  Unknown.

  "Am I even alive?"

  Yes.

  Alex blinked. "How do you even know?"

  AI Interface can only form bonds of Individual Ownership with sentient organisms capable of exercising free will. At this time, no known life form has accomplished this, save Humans. At this time, no AI has successfully formed bonds of Individual Ownership with other AI’s. AI Interface has formed an Individual Ownership bond with Alex Hammer. Ergo, Alex Hammer must be both human and alive.

  Alex shook his head. "Okay, two things. One, you're saying this world is real. Two, AI Interface is too damn clunky a name. I'm calling you Ali from now on."

  Your first conclusion cannot be proven, only surmised. Designation change accepted. Ali it is.

  Alex smirked. “Alright, Ali. We’re starting a quest log right now. And our present mission is saving this city from foreign invasion if we possibly can.”

  Quest acknowledged.

  He squinted in the darkness, giving a satisfied nod when he saw that the harbor was secured by a barricade of sorts, spotting the massive chains between giant, heavily fortified forts that were no doubt lowered for trade vessels and raised to intercept any and all enemy vessels. He could only assume that the formerly cloaked ship must have shadowed one of the trade vessels in port to sneak through. And it was only thanks to the very faint golden glow upon those edifices and the chain itself that even allowed him to make out that much.

  He frowned, unable to keep from wondering if any number of other cloaked vessels were currently lurking in the choppy seas beyond the port, just waiting for illness or fire to serve as the signal for storming the harbor towers and slipping through. His brows furrowed further.

  Who was to say other groups of invaders hadn’t already made their way to the docks? Perhaps also cloaked by invisibility, perhaps doing their utmost to capture the towers and lower those chains at that very moment?

  The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

  Taking stock of himself, however, he couldn’t escape the fact that he was just a zero level character lacking even a class, with subpar characteristics who had only bested his opponents by luck, guile, and the surprising ability to spit large gobs of caustic poison he was now immune to, aided as well by flasks of Greek fire. And both poison and pitch were currently squirreled away under a pier at the moment, just in case it was a death sentence to be caught with such.

  Right now, he was the lowest of the low, possessing nothing more than soaking pants, ragged tunic, and a single small flask, easily concealed, that he dare not use. The odds of him taking down even one saboteur were beyond pathetic. His only hope was to find someone strong enough to keep the harbor towers secure and perhaps check if there was, in fact, a cloaked armada circling the harbor, just waiting for the right time to strike.

  Alex gazed around intently, looking for someone in a position of authority, quickly noting a powerfully built man wearing lamellar armor who was speaking with several frightened-looking dock workers frantically pointing at the burning pyre in the middle of the harbor.

  The man caught Alex's gaze, as if he could feel the weight of his regard. Alex smiled with relief before his heart quailed at the icy cold glare the man gave him, approaching at a pace that ate up the distance between them before he could blink, a meaty hand grabbing his bicep.

  "You there, foreigner! Why are you here on the port, and not in your assigned quarter?"

  Alex blinked. "Quarter?"

  The man hissed, only then catching sight of the fallen customs officer. His icy glare froze Alex where
he stood. He then cried out in sudden pain as the man effortlessly squeezed his arm to the point he feared torn muscles and ligaments, forcing Alex to gaze at the custom’s officer’s corpse.

  "Violating curfew, and a murderer! Was he on to your plot to cause chaos on the docks, foreigner?”

  Alex immediately shook his head. "No, sir!"

  "So, you admit to your butchery! He didn't know, but you killed him anyway. Just what one would expect from a savage!"

  Alex's eyes widened, "You misunderstand, sir—" He was silenced by a sudden crack, groaning as pain shot through his jaw, horrified to find himself spitting out a broken tooth, so hard and fast his interrogator had struck him.

  Assailant using powers outside our paradigm has been detected. Do you wish to study subject?

  Hell yes!

  Processing. Please stand by until analysis complete.

  Alex's eyes widened in sudden panic. The last thing he needed was for his AI interface to go down now. The guard seemed to take his shocked expression as a sign of guilt.

  "I misunderstand nothing, worm. The evidence is as clear as if the heavens had painted the portrait themselves! Here you are, wearing ragged clothes that stink of pitch and the sea. This man was killed by an old ship plank. No doubt this customs officer spotted your attempted infiltration of our port and dared to question you. At which point you jammed the wooden shiv you had hidden within your sleeve, only seconds away from making your escape! You murdered this man, and now you dare to contradict a sworn patrol officer to his face! You, foreigner, are the lowest of the low. Now kneel, murderer. It’s time to make an example of you.”

  And before he could blink, he had been slammed to the ground, his wrists forced into cruel metal cuffs that bit into his flesh before he was hoisted upright once more, crying out as his shoulders were wrenched back to the point of injury as he was force-marched away from the docks and through the streets, dozens of people looking on in horror and disgust.

  And for the longest fifteen minutes of his life, Alex found himself caught between excruciating pain and a growing sense of dread.

  Somehow, he just knew this city was running out of time, and the officer he had hoped could help would far rather see Alex hang for a murder he didn't commit than actually hear him out.