Aether Knight: Desolation: A LitRPG Light Novel

by Tracy Gregory

  “Ugh, this sounds like a reputation grind,” said another of the developer warriors.

  “Typical. This always happens when they run out of ideas. Collect fifty of these things, thirty of that, watch the bar move a tiny amount every time. Not very original,” said a third.

  “Now go, do as I have asked. I will send summons once we have enough of the stones complete to begin placing them.” Olgan turned and started to walk back towards his throne as the assembled forces began to scatter.

  “A wise choice.” Igni, chieftain of the Cavecrawlers clan, appeared from behind the chair. She had a habit of slinking about unseen, something common to all of her subterranean people. “It will take time before these…I hesitate to use the word, warriors, are disciplined enough to prove useful in battle.”

  “They will do as you ask,” said the armoured developer standing next to the throne. “Eventually.”

  “So you keep saying, Eric. I will believe it when I see it.” Olgan took his seat, allowing him a moment to ponder his next actions. “Is there any word from Yuran?”

  “Not yet, war leader,” Igni said. “Though that's little surprise. Her people are still reeling from their losses in the battle, and the area they've been asked to keep watch on is rather large. Take it as good news we have heard nothing. It means that retaliation hasn't come yet.”

  Olgan nodded as Igni spoke. It was a precarious time for the Chosen People. Their society was divided into distinct clans, each of which had several smaller tribes who acted as vassals. Olgan had been selected from the chieftains of the clans to lead their combined forces, but the battle had wiped out nearly half their number. Both the conniving Horan and the hulking Scrone had gone missing during the carnage, likely slain along with their warriors and machina.

  “I will say, it is very impressive how your people are able to tame even the most dangerous machina. It’s something we would very much like to learn,” Eric said.

  “I’m sure you would.” Olgan adjusted his mask. Like all of the Chosen he wore a band of solid metal that covered his eyes. The fleshy orbs had been removed as a child, replaced with mechanical eyes taken from a machina. The grisly surgery was necessary, the implants kept aether sickness at bay, and allowed the close bonds required to ride the most dangerous machina. Olgan didn’t think that the developer would be as keen to learn to ride machina if they knew the true cost of it. “This is the totality of the forces you're willing to give us?”

  “The total we’re able to convince to come here. The warriors we gift to you are more…independent than what you’re used to. We don’t force anyone to do anything. That’s very…important to how our system works.”

  Olgan stared at Eric, though the developer had no idea he was. The insinuation that the Chosen were forced in some way rankled at him. “No-one is forced. They do their sacred duty willingly, and with pride.”

  “If you say so.” Eric’s armour clanked as he began to walk down the steps.

  The throne had been set up on a wooden platform before Olgan's tent, the rest of the village stretching out before it. The majority of the buildings were basic stone houses, built from stones carved into a simple brick. Olgan hadn't been able to move back into his own, not yet, there were too many memories of his lost children. Instead, he had pitched his tent, choosing to live there. It felt right, the tent was the same one he had commanded his host from as they had marched south. In his heart, that war wasn't over. Once the heretics had been squashed, perhaps then he could return home.

  “There’s something about that man I truly despise,” Igni said as Eric walked towards the village. “Everything he says is so sneering. He thinks he’s better than us.”

  “Isn't he? These developers, they have abilities, powers beyond any of our warriors. He might have given us only a handful of their fighters, but I would bet each one is the equal of a dozen of ours. On foot that is, I suspect things are a lot more equal if we're mounted.” Olgan drummed his fingers nervously on the edge of his throne. Admitting the weakness of his people out loud felt like sacrilege.

  “Stronger doesn't mean better. Can't you smell it on him, the whiff of the morally twisted? They're only helping us because they benefit from it. The moment that changes, they'll turn on us.”

  “I know. It isn’t like we have much choice though. Reclaiming the bones is our sacred task. What happens after that is up to the gods. Still, I get your point. Do we have any Foreststalker scouts available?”

  Igni shook her head, her veil swishing from side to side. Like the rest of her clan years of living beneath the earth had given her an aversion to the sun. “The handful we have remaining are assisting the Skyrunners with their vigil. I do have several scouts from my own clan. The Foreststalkers might claim they have the best, but that’s only because they’ve never caught ours.” Igni smiled, her lips barely visible through the dark cloth.

  “That will do. Have two of them follow our friend. Watch what he does. Have them keep apart. Hopefully, if he notices one, he won't notice the other. He'll probably expect it, but we shouldn't disappoint our guests, should we?”

  “No, war leader. I have enough scouts to keep an eye on a handful of the warriors as well. Just in case.”

  “A good plan,” Olgan said. He hadn’t interacted with the Cavecrawler chieftain before the disastrous battle. The clan had a reputation for being a bit strange, one they took an odd kind of pride in. Most people tried to avoid dealing with them if possible. Her competence had been a welcome surprise, stepping effortlessly into the role of being Olgan’s right hand. Even if she weren’t capable, her clan had survived the battle in the greatest numbers and their strength would have demanded the position. Their strange machina were adapted to living in tunnels and had been able to scuttle down the side of the mountain and escape to relative safety. It was how Olgan had survived, scooped up by Igni and carried off the battlefield.

  “Thank you, war leader. I will give the order immediately. Is there anything else I can help with?”

  “Yes. Head home, to your clan. See to the construction of the binding stone there. The quicker we can get these built, the better. We need to get that route secure, Igni, or all this is for nothing.”

  “Understood, war leader,” Igni said, bowing slightly as she spoke.

  ***

  Scrone turned the makeshift spit he had built from twigs. He sniffed at the bulbous tuber he had roasting over the fire. He wasn’t familiar with this region, and it had taken a few false starts before he had found something edible. The tuber had a sweet smell and wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It was sustenance at least. Scrone had gone hungry during his flight from the battle.

  It had been a close-run thing. His mount had reeled as the mountain had exploded, enemy cannon fire raking the tightly packed warriors. It slipped off the mountainside, gripping into the stone with its claws in a desperate attempt not to fall. The leonine creature realised that the rockface was giving way beneath it, and had leapt off, opening its wings and trying to glide to the ground. It was higher than it would normally have flown from, struggling in the strong wings of the mountain pass.

  Scrone thanked the gods that the beast had managed to land. So many of its kin hadn’t made it, the winds and enemy fire knocking them from the sky. He had dismounted from the creature, checking it from injury when the mountain had cracked like an egg, an avatar of the gods bursting forth. Scrone had run, the rocks falling around him, his mount fleeing in the opposite direction. By the time the shower of stone was done, the countryside had been churned up by the deadly rain. Scrone knew that he had survived only by the grace of the gods.

  The flight through the burning landscape had been nearly as perilous, death coming easily from being crushed by the avatar or frozen by the aether pouring from it as it passed him. He had hidden under the singed remnants of trees as the heretics had buzzed overhead in their flying machines, pursing the avatar as it stomped off on its path across the wilds. Eventually, he had found an area untouched by
the fire, a swamp filled with gigantic mushrooms. They gave him plenty of places to hide, and Scrone had found an abandoned camp atop one of the tall fungi, making use of its ragged tent.

  It was a shameful existence, the chieftain of a clan reduced to scrabbling for his life as he hid from the enemy. Scrone was a warrior, a mountain of a man who rippled with barely constrained muscle. Sneaking about wasn't a part of his being, and it rankled at him to be living like this. He longed to get back to his clan, to lead what remained of his warriors in glorious battle against the heretics. A part of him dreaded what he would find if he ever found a way to return. Had his clan even survived the onslaught?

  Lifting the tuber from the fire, Scrone tried to push the thought from his mind. He simply had to survive. He took a bite from the vegetable, ignoring the heat as he chewed hungrily. Even if he couldn’t find a way back, he could cause trouble for the heretics. They were bound to come here eventually, and he would make them pay when the did.

  Below him, a machina bellowed. The creatures of this swampland were particularly aggressive, the local ecosystem made up of mostly predators feasting on each other. There was one in particular that liked to swim near the base of Scrone's camp, a massive beast with a long fanged maw. He had seen it bite down on another machina and pull its prey beneath the waves in an impressive display of ferocity. He liked it. Scrone had been deliberately leaving smaller machina he killed near the base of the mushroom, an attempt to ingratiate himself with the beast. It would make a suitable mount if he could tame it.

  ***

  Eric watched a group of players talking to the Chosen sitting behind a wooden desk. The crafter was explaining to them the machina parts required to build what the Chosen called a binding stone. It fascinated Eric that these people had found a way of controlling the flow of the aether, keeping it from sweeping in and consuming the land. The other executives had been wary of working with them, claiming that there was nothing to learn from primitives. Already it was paying dividends. The research division had struggled with finding a way to keep the aether at bay for months, and here was a people who could build the complex devices, the knowledge passed on through generations.

  A smile crept across Eric’s face. It would certainly help boost his career when he returned to Earth. He had no doubt that he would find a way, or at least someone he could manipulate would. It had come as a shock, when the system that allowed transfer between dimensions failed, but Eric firmly believed a crisis could be an opportunity.

  “I want to submit a ticket,” said a player, the woman coming to a stop before Eric with a stomp of her foot. “I don't like the way this village is laid out. It's not very player-friendly.”

  “It is authentic,” Eric said. “This is how real villages are laid out.”

  “Well, I don't like it.”

  “I’ll be sure to register your feedback.”

  The player nodded, then began to storm off to no doubt berate someone else.

  Eric had to admit, he hadn't liked the idea when it had first been suggested. The discovery of an entire parallel universe ripe for exploitation, one home to strange machine creatures but little else. The greatest discovery in recent centuries, but one that Friendspace wasn't ready to share. Dominating this new world would ensure their place in history forever. Exploring the strange new reality and facing down its dangerous creatures would require an army. One of the executives had joked about getting people to pay to visit, and that had sparked the idea. Altering a person's body during transit was a known process, so presenting those changes as part of a video game was an easy change to make. Thousands of people had lined up, ready to do Friendspace's work for them, and pay for the privilege. It was a genius move until everything had gone wrong.

  It was the complaining that got to Eric. The company agents trapped in the aether land with everyone else had maintained the lie, keeping up the illusion it was still a game. They had admitted there was an issue with log out, but a quick-thinking agent had explained that time passed differently in the game world and that only minutes had passed. Operating under the illusion they were playing around in a created world, the players frequently complained about things Eric and his colleagues could do nothing about.

  He smiled as he watched the players at the desk walk off, no doubt eager to complete whatever quest their alterations translated their task into. It was one step closer to getting his revenge.

  Chapter Six

  Rollout

  The crunch of ash beneath the wheels of the wagon didn’t sit right with Alex. Abundant life reduced to a horrid crackle. The noise had announced the caravan’s descent from the mountain, the wagons bound together in a line so that only the front wagon needed to be steered. The constant crunching had been Alex’s companion during his long hours of travel, grinding away at his nerves. He would be glad to pass into the damp earth of the swamp, if only because he wouldn’t need to hear that infernal noise anymore.

  After dropping off Erwin, Hir'Six and the froggletts at the building site in the infinite, the remaining members of the party had stopped at the towers to pick up Simian. The experienced scavenger would come in useful locating the materials they needed. The plan was to collect the mushrooms in the swamp, head to the ruins to collect as much scrap metal as they could, then swing north, stopping at the mountain pass to try and recover one of the flying machina so they could strip it for parts.

  It dawned on Alex that breaking down the machina would be a difficult job. In the field, knights used harvesting crabs, the tiny machina causing parts to eject from corpses as part of their feeding. That was simply a matter of convenience, dragging the corpse of a metal beast back to the Towers so it could be chopped up simply wasn't feasible. Getting some parts of a machina was better than none. From what Alex was told it was the only reasonable way to get augments, for reasons no one understood they became useless unless detached from the body quickly after death.

  Pondering the mysteries of machina biology wasn’t high on Alex’s list of good times, but the caravan ride left him little else to do. He found himself longing for something to happen, anything, the slow trundle grinding away at his nerves like it ground the ash beneath the wagon’s wheels. He was laying on his back, trying in vain to get some sleep to help pass the time. It wasn’t working, the ground beneath was uneven and Alex kept being knocked about.

  “Can we try and keep this ride a bit smoother? Some of us are trying to sleep,” Alex said. He had twisted his helmet to the side in an attempt to block out the light sneaking in through the front of the wagon’s canvas covering.

  “And some of us are working,” Casey said. “Unless you fancy a go on the reins?”

  “No, you’re good. I would probably drive the caravan over a cliff or something. I was never really any good at driving.”

  “It’s nothing like driving a car.”

  “That just makes it worse,” Alex said. He gave up on trying to sleep, sitting up and righting his helmet. “How are we doing, pace-wise?”

  “Alright. It’s a lot slower than taking an airship. We’re about halfway into the forest, near where the campsite used to be. We’ll start climbing down towards the swamp in about an hour or two. I reckon getting through there is going to be a pain though. We’ll have to be careful we don’t get stuck.”

  Alex slid into place next to Casey on the bench at the front of the wagon that served as a driver’s seat. The landscape that stretched out before him was mostly a sea of black, but here and there tiny streaks of colour were starting to appear, life fighting back against the thick layer of soot. “Especially with the extra weight of anything we find. It might be worth trying to go around the swamp on our way back if that's even possible.”

  “Maybe. That will bring us right up against the aether barrier though.” Casey tugged the straps in her hands gently, adjusting the course of the caravan. “I would like to see that though. You ever wonder what it looks like up close? Aether so thick it forms a wall.”

  On a clear
night, the aether wall was visible sometimes, shimmering colours swirling in the distance. It reminded Casey of the northern lights back on Earth, and she found it oddly beautiful.

  “I don't know how it looks, but it's probably dangerous. Everything is dangerous around here.” Alex let his legs dangle over the edge of the bench, sabatons clanking as they swung back and hit the wagon's body.

  For a moment neither of them said anything, simply looking out at the charred landscape ahead. A quiet stillness had fallen over what remained of the forest, an entire ecology in mourning. It demanded reflection, the extent of the destruction leaving the knights awestruck.

  “We end up in some crazy situations, don’t we?” Alex said. “Building an airship? That’s got to be top of the list now, right?”

  “Higher than travelling to another dimension?”

  “Well, if we're including that nothing is going to beat it.”

  “Fair,” Casey said, nodding in agreement. “I wonder how many are out there?”

  “How many what?” Alex adjusted himself on the bench. It wasn’t comfortable, and he was wondering how Casey had managed for the long hours she had been driving the wagon.

  “Dimensions. Like, there’s got to be more than two, right?”

  “Isn’t there infinite dimensions? That’s normally a thing in every sci-fi series at some point. Evil mirror realities where everyone has goatees or revealing outfits. Sometimes both.” Alex moved his hands across the sides of his helmet, stroking a non-existent beard.

  “I always hated that. It’s like time travel, right? It feels lazy. Time travel, alternate realities, evil twins, or that episode where they’re stuck with an enemy and have to work together. You’ve seen it once; you’ve seen it a bunch of times.”