Aether Knight: Desolation: A LitRPG Light Novel

by Tracy Gregory

  Anaya pushed the lever on her spear, the tip jabbing into the flesh of a nearby mushroom. She leapt off, allowing her weight to slowly spool out the cable. Her feet hit the ground gently, immediately feeling Driller brush up against her.

  “I know, I know. I didn’t go far.” She crouched, rubbing her hand across the armour atop Driller’s head. “You’re ok. You’re ok.”

  Driller flopped onto its back, exposing the vulnerable cabling stretching across its belly. The machine let out a happy wine as Anaya ran her hand across its gut.

  “Come on, we need to keep moving. We don’t want to lose them,” Anaya said. The machina at her heel whirred its gears in response. “First, we need to just do this.” She pulled the lever to retract the tip of her spear. With the weapon reassembled, she scratched a symbol into a nearby mushroom with the point. A circle with fine lines drawn from its edge pointing towards the centre but never touching. A rune the Chosen used to denote themselves. With any luck whoever was lurking in the swamp would see it and know they weren’t alone.

  ***

  The cave wasn't what Alex had expected. In his mind, it would be a dark and dingy place, filled with thick mushroom growth and strong musty smell. He should have known better by now. Every place in the aether lands he had journeyed to had been filled with vibrant colours, impossible shades with a trend towards the bright and unusual. The cave was no exception.

  It glowed with an orange light that seemed to throb, the bioluminescent mushrooms pulsing in unison with one another. Here and there amongst the overwhelming wall of colour was motes of a different shade. A green here, a blue there. It was beautiful to look at. Amongst the wall of light were blobs of darkness, veins of metal resisting the spread of the fungi.

  “This is something else,” Casey said. “I never expected this.” As she spoke her voice grew slightly higher.

  “We’re in luck,” Simian said. His voice had taken on a similar tone. “There are definitely squeakers in here.”

  “Which ones are they?”

  Simian allowed himself a chuckle the sound strange with the new pitch of his voice. “The orange ones. This is a treasure trove of them. Be careful where you stand. We don't want to break the caps. The gas is no good for you in volume.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Alex said. “I knew a lad back on Earth who decided to try getting helium right from a cylinder to do the funny voice, not a balloon. He was in hospital for months, nearly suffocated to death.”

  Simian crouched to the nearest mushroom. Carefully he placed his fingers around the stem and plucked it from the ground. “Grab the main body and pull them swiftly. All the gas is in the top, so we don't lose any that way.” He dropped the mushroom into Alex’s waiting bag, the fungus vanishing into the void. “Looks like this cave hasn’t been touched for a long time. Must have been blocked off by the water until that big fella came stomping through.

  “Something has gone our way at least.” Alex plucked a mushroom from the wall next to him.

  Squeaker Mushroom. Uncommon combination material.

  “These are combo items it looks like,” Casey said, having done the same. “We should take as many as possible. Any extra leftover might be useful for crafting things.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Cass, can you watch the entrance whilst we work?”

  Cassius leant against the opening the of the cave, his arms resting on his cannon as it hung by a strap. “Do the easy job? Sure.”

  “I reckon that might be darkstone on that rock,” Casey said. She was hard to take seriously with her squeaking voice. “We should grab that as well.”

  “Good idea. Looks like there's a lot of it.” Alex's voice sounded as it always did when he wore the helmet. Even within its metal confines, he sounded normal to himself. It was filtering out the gas, a handy ability that Alex had never noticed. “Small chunks so we can fit it into our bags. We need to make the most of our inventories.” If the pocket dimensions had a limit, Alex hadn’t run up against it yet. A few brief tests before they left using several differently sized sacks had proven that there was a limit to the size of bag they could access the dimension through. Anything bigger than a standard backpack didn’t work.

  “Sure wish I had one of those magic bags to help with salvaging,” Simian said, tossing another mushroom into Alex’s waiting backpack.

  “Doesn’t work like that, sorry.” Alex reached into the open bag, removing the pick he had bought before his last journey to the swamp. “At least Erwin should be happy with this haul. It’s one thing off the list anyway.”

  “How many more things are there on that list?” Casey said, her voice now comically high.

  “Let’s not dwell on that,” Alex said, spinning the pickaxe in his hand. “You’ve got to celebrate the little successes, you know. Especially when we just took that kicking. We could use a win.”

  “He’s got a point,” Simian said, piling mushrooms into the open bag. “Losing two wagons was a big blow. This is the least we can come back with.”

  “Should have gotten the crocodile insurance,” Casey said, laughing at her own joke.

  Chapter Eleven

  Desolation

  Austin watched the force assembled before him. It wasn’t as large as he would have liked. Whilst they had approved his task, the board has also been hesitant to dedicate the bulk of their security forces to it. Austin understood, most of his compatriots were cowards, terrified of being stuck in a wondrous other world, frightened at their own shadows. Austin allowed himself a smirk, with him about they had good reason to be.

  Five men. That was all that Austin had to deal with the so-called war leader and his soldiers. The rest of his forces had been scattered throughout the countryside to deal with the other clusters of primitives. Austin thought it was more than enough, the private military contractors Friendspace had deployed to the aether lands had undergone the same enchantments as the players but had the advantage of bringing equipment with them during the transit. Austin couldn’t imagine a handful of savages with spears could stand up against assault rifles, especially when they had so few of their warrior caste remaining.

  “I see you’re ready for your massacre,” Eric said. He made no attempt to hide his contempt.

  “Can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.” Austin was sitting in a chair made of coalesced shadows, one leg cross over the other. “Have you moved all the players out of the area?”

  “Yes. Don’t want anyone seeing this, do we?”

  “You had plenty of opportunity to present your objections during the most recent board meeting.”

  “The one I wasn’t at?”

  “That's hardly my fault is it.” Austin flicked his hand dismissively like he was swatting at a fly.

  Eric glared at Austin; his sneer hidden by the visor of his helmet. “I think you’ll find it’s exactly your fault. A meeting with no prior invitations, chosen for when only those most likely to agree with you were able to attend. It’s effective, I’ll give you that.”

  “Just standard good business. Never go into a negotiation you don’t know the outcome of. Stack the deck in your favour. You could learn a thing or two from that, Eric.” Austin’s spectral chair twisted about to face the nearby mercenaries. “You may proceed.”

  The mercenaries nodded and began their march over the hill towards the chosen camp.

  “Not even willing to get your own hands dirty, I see?” Eric hated how easily Austin had just ordered the deaths of so many innocents.

  “Why hire people if you aren’t going to use them? Delegation, delegation, delegation.”

  “I wonder how the mercenaries would feel if they knew that there was no route home? I don’t think they would be so eager to kill for you then. This isn’t right.” Eric turned and began to walk away from Austin on this throne of shadows. “It’ll come back to bite you. I guarantee it.”

  ***

  The climb out from the swamp had been without incident, the remnants of the car
avan rising out from the mire and up the thin path to the top of the western cliff. Their defeat of the snapjaw had brought a strange side effect, the machina of the swamp giving the knights a wide berth. More than once a slitherwyrm had slid out from the muck only to rapidly vanish back beneath the water.

  The squeaker mushroom harvest had been fantastically successful. The cave had been picked clean over the course of a few hours; the glowing fungi stuffed into waiting backpacks. The caves had been a treasure trove of combination materials, a dozen different mushroom species hidden amongst the carpet of orange light. A large supply of darkstone ore had been collected at the same time, thick veins of metal chipped away by Alex and his pickaxe.

  As the caravan reached the top of the cliff, a steep hillside sloped downwards towards the area known as the ruins. The wagons stopped, the knights taking in the impressive sight before them.

  It was a forest, but one of concrete and steel. Nature had reclaimed the ancient city before them, plants gripping tight to the buildings and draping them in vibrant greens. Glimpses of road could be seen through the thick grass growing across the ground, a scattered handful of wrecked cars dotted across it. Their wheels and windows were gone, leaving only empty husks of rotted metal. It was the corpse of a city, now stripped of its inhabitants, desolate and alone.

  The mountain-sized Deus had come this way as well, crashing through some of the buildings and leaving destruction in its wake. Further, into the ruins, its foot had crashed through something buried, a vast chasm exposed by the thudding of its mighty feet.

  “It’s…weird to look at,” Alex said. “It looks so much like something from Earth.” He pointed to a nearby tower block, the remnants of a sign barely visible through the plant life upon it. The word read heights, but in the scratchy runic script of the towers. “Only that sign is a giveaway that it isn’t. You must have been so like us at some point.”

  “I suppose,” Cassius said. The two men were standing beside each other, whilst Casey and Simian were still sitting on the wagon’s bench. All were looking at the valley before them and taking in the majesty of the ruins. “Doesn’t really matter much now though.”

  “It’s like looking into the future,” Casey said. “Remember that Horton said that the aether is leaking into Earth from here. Maybe this is how Earth ends up, eventually. Just like the aether lands. Just like these ruins.”

  “We will need to head deep into them,” Simian said. “The outskirts have long been picked clean. Thankfully our giant monster friend has done us a favour this time. I’ve never heard of anyone finding underground tunnels in the ruins. They should be untouched.”

  “That’s good to know. There anything we should look out for here? Any dangerous machina waiting to spring out at us?” Alex removed his helmet, letting the gentle breeze drift over his face. “There’s no more Rorys is there?”

  Cassius tiltled his head back and forth, his lips pursed as he searched for the right words. “Well…the ruins aren’t the safest place. You’ve got to look out for scramblers.”

  “And sonifangs like to nest in the buildings,” Simian said.

  “Oh, and last time I was here I saw an entire pack of thrashhorns.”

  “Ok, ok, I get it. The aether lands are dangerous,” Alex said, waving his hands as he spoke. “The last two I know, but what’s a scrambler?”

  “Small machina, like a muckgrinder or a Duolisk,” Cassius said. “But they like to climb up the sides of buildings.”

  “Scramble up the sides you could say,” Alex said. “I get where this is going. Climbing up means they can pounce down.”

  “Exactly. Not too much trouble on their own, but if they get the drop on you it’s a different story. Just keep checking above you, basically.” Cassius turned and gestured for Casey to climb down. “Can you two hold onto one of the wagons each as we go down the hill? Don't want them to go rolling down out of control. Can't risk losing them.”

  Alex nodded. Cassius had a point, the snapjaw had halved the caravan, robbing them of vital space to carry any scrap they found. In Alex's mind, he had already decided they would need to make the journey a second time. It was unfortunate, but he didn't see much other choice. He put his hands against the front wagon, gripping the corner tightly.

  Casey climbed down and moved to the back, doing the same as Alex through on the rear wagon. “Ready when you are,” she said, bending her legs ready. It wasn’t necessary, her enhanced strength was more than capable of handling the weight of the wagon. “Time to go exploring.”

  ***

  Scrone ran his hands over the sigil. It was a rune that referred to his people, one that the heretics had no way of knowing. It had to have come from another Chosen, a second survivor of the massacre in the mountains. One that had to be aware of his existence but had chosen not to reveal themselves. It was an odd decision, even if they were from a different clan or tribe, every warrior he knew would put aside their grievances to fight against the heretics.

  There was only one other possibility in Scrone’s mind. The unknown warrior had to be an outcast, someone who wouldn’t approach him in respect for his people’s law. He knew of only one warrior exiled in such a way in heretic lands. Scrone laughed, a heavy booming guffaw that echoed through the swamp. It had to be the war leader’s brat; her exile had spared her the fate of her clan.

  Despite being a towering man sculpted from rippling muscle, his appearance that of a dumb brute, Scrone was no idiot. The symbol had been left here to inform him of her presence, the child realising that someone had set a trap and correctly assuming that they would be one of the Chosen. The mystery warrior who had aided the heretics, that had to be the girl. Scrone didn’t know why they would help the enemy in such a manner, but there had to be a good reason, especially when they didn’t stick around to claim the glory.

  The prospect of working with an exile didn’t appeal to the former chieftain, but he had little choice. It was clear the heretics needed to cross the swamp for a reason he couldn’t fathom, and striking a blow, no matter how small, filled Scrone with a sense of purpose. He silently resolved to follow the heretics. Slaying the ferocious machina he had set upon them proved they were worthy warriors, even with outside help. He longed to face them in person, to test his might against them. With the assistance of the exiled child, Scrone believed he could defeat them, and his failed attempt meant his pride demanded it.

  “Where are you out here, child?” he said in a whisper as he ran his hand over the symbol.

  ***

  Olgan threw his spear, striking the black clad attacker square in the chest. There was a mote of perfect darkness where it hit, the spear falling to the ground. Sorcery had robbed him of his chance for vengeance, a small act of defiance though it might have been.

  “This will achieve nothing. The gods welcome our souls willingly and their vengeance will be swift.” Olgan didn’t move at his attacker approached, their strange weapon held tight to their shoulder. Olgan had seen it in action, the device spitting death at those it was pointed at. He knew the developers would betray him at some point, but he hadn’t expected it come so soon and with such ferocity.

  Barely a handful of developer warriors had descended on the camp, wiping out everyone who stood in their way. They had been indiscriminate, killing with impunity. The remaining warriors, the few grizzled survivors of the crusade south, had tried to stop them, a valiant but short-lived attempt to defend their kin.

  “Oh, it achieves plenty.” The shadows from a nearby hut stretched as something emerged from within them. They coalesced into the shape of a man, one that adjusted the cuffs of his outfit as he walked towards Olgan. “My compatriot wanted to take a softly softly approach with your people. One that was wholly unnecessary. The strong take what they need from the weak, a concept I know you understand. And right now, your people are as weak as a kitten. Easy prey.”

  “Who are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter, not to you. Your time on this world is done.”<
br />
  “You want to know the location of the bones, correct? It’s what the other developer wanted. My people will never tell you.” Olgan took a step forward and felt the butt of a weapon slammed against his face. His mask came loose, bouncing across the ground.

  “Hah! They already have. Not all of your people are noble warriors like yourself. The trick to getting what you want, see, is going to the bottom rung. The lowest in a company, or in this case a society. Find the people who are crushed under a heel, not those doing the crushing. They're more than willing to get one over on the system.” Austin turned away from Olgan, looking out across the village. Bodies lay everywhere, but he was unphased by the carnage. “The problem with having a warrior society is that those who can't be a warrior, those who are disabled for example, can be very resentful. We've had multiple people tell us where this settlement is.”

  “They can stand against you. The heretics. I’ve seen their power.”

  “Oh please. I doubt very much anything on this world is any threat to us.”

  “This world?” The words seemed strange to Olgan, out of place in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  Austin gestured dismissively with one hand, not bothering to turn to face the chieftain. “This world has a twin. One that doesn’t suffer from the troubles you have here. No aether, no machina. Cities filled with people instead of crumbling ruins. Honestly, a paradise compared to this place.”

  “Then why come here?”

  “It’s precisely because of those things. We can harness the aether, study machina, learn their secrets. We can propel our world forward by centuries, with our company, with me, at the forefront.”

  A scream filled the air, the shrieking panic of someone facing a nightmare. A machina burst through a hut, a developer warrior clutched within its glimmering mandibles. Sparks bounced off the beast’s armour plates as its prey fired their weapon wildly. The machina scuttled forwards on its many legs, its segmented form familiar to Olgan. The creature squeezed tightly with its jaws and there was a brief brilliant glow followed by a gush of red as it broke through the magic protecting the warrior. It tossed the body aside, turning to face a second warrior.