The Enchanter
by Roman Prokofiev
Project Stellar
Book #2
Magic Dome Books
Project Stellar
Book #2: The Enchanter
Copyright © Roman Prokofiev 2020
Cover Art © Ivan Khivrenko 2020
Cover Designer: Vladimir Manyukhin
English translation copyright © Irene and Neil P. Woodhead 2020
Published by Magic Dome Books, 2020
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-80-7619-148-8
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the shop and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.
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Table of Contents:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Interlude. The Possessed
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Interlude. Avenger
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Interlude. Avenger
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Interlude. The Possessed
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Stellar’s Archives
Activation No ---
“WELL, HI THERE... Angel.”
The bloody haze before my eyes gradually began to clear, allowing me to make out two human figures standing in front of me.
One was a man; the other a woman wrapped in a tattered dark-blue cape, her hand resting on the neck of an enormous cyberwarg.
“I can see that you can hear me,” the man said smugly.
I struggled to move my lips. A blob of bloody saliva had formed in my mouth. My whole body hurt like hell; my heartbeat reverberated in my temples. The earlier drop from the sky had cost me dearly. I seemed to be in a bad way — but how bad exactly, remained to be seen.
Miko was silent which didn’t bode well, either. My interface was gone. Without it, the world around me felt unusually empty and bland.
The man watched me intently, his whole body concealed by the folds of his long dark-blue headdress. His gaze, steady and sinister, sent frozen shivers down my spine.
Now I remembered where I’d seen him before. He’d been in that group of people in the vox footage which showed the Rogues’ negotiations with Rat King. Which meant that this was—
“I don’t think this is Angel,” the woman said. Her voice was husky and low with disturbing undertones reminiscent of growling. “He doesn’t look like him, Ice. It’s either someone else, or the animafication process has only just started. Having said that...”
“That was a joke,” the man said sharply. His icy fingers dug into my chin, turning my head this way and that. “He simply can’t be, can he? I know it for a fact. What’s with the brain scan, Evyl?”
“My interferometer shows no trace of symbiotic activity. His reactions are within the norm, and so is his magnetic aura. His brain hasn’t been tampered with. No presence of new organs or Azuric mutations detected in his body.”
“That’s funny,” murmured the man — the foe — whose name was apparently Ice. “So it’s either he’s disabled both his cogitor and his interface — which would have been sheer suicide — or... or he’s not an Inca? What do you think?”
“I can’t see any traces of genetic modifications,” the woman repeated in her low and slightly annoyed voice. “This is just an ordinary human. That’s all he is. Either that, or this is a brand new body. You know very well that any genetic modifications made before a subject’s first Evolution don’t really manifest themselves. You would need a full DNA test in order to detect them.”
“Maybe. One thing’s for sure: this particular human isn’t as ordinary as we think, babe.”
The blade of Fang glinted before my face. Completely unperturbed, the stranger held the clan’s heirloom dagger with his bare hands, studying the engraving on the blue steel. He then laid the dagger back onto a table nearby, next to my cryptor, ID card and my other possessions.
“Blue steel marked with the sign of Fenrir,” he said pensively. “Here, of all places. I wonder why?”
“Ice, he’s got the Wolves’ tattoo, their dagger and their cryptor,” the woman said.
“You think I’m blind? I was right, wasn’t I? He’s not Angel; he’s not from the fort at all. A Fenrir cub! He’s got their genotype written all over him. Can you feel the sheer power of his Source? I’m surprised humans can still have them.”
“Ice, look! He’s got the City’s mark on his face, too! One of those seven-city toadies, whatcha call them...”
The man nodded. “Tributes. Blank bodies the Legion uses to build fake Incarnators. Now I know how he managed to reactivate the wingsuit. That’s part of their training, controlling bionic exosuits. But how did he end up here? I’m sure it must be one hell of a story. Hey, you! Mind telling us?”
One glance at the man sent my alarm bells clanging. His eyes... they weren’t human, even though they did appear perfectly normal. I’d seen this kind of look before: the alien Darkness lurking deep within human eye pupils, the very substance which had chased after me in the A-zone, having snatched the bodies of the two dead Legionnaires.
“Who are... you?” I struggled out a hoarse barely audible whisper.
“Who, me?” his voice betrayed a smirk. “I have lots of names, boy. But you can call me Iceberg.”
Iceberg? I remembered the old tales Tara had told me. The radio frequency tags on the implants she’d looted off the dead Rogues were marked with Iceberg’s symbol. What was it the old Enchanter had said the guy’s name was now? “It’s Gnarl. Iceberg is dead.”
So it looked like I was facing one of the Possessed — the very one who was behind the Rogues’ attack on Fort Angelo. He was our mysterious enemy. The enemy who had Tara Jessica Lee’s blood on his hands. She’d died because of him, as had lots and lots of other good honest people.
A hot surge of anger rose from deep within me, effacing all other feelings.
I spat the blood blob in his face. Straining every sinew, I attempted to break free from my bonds. Pointless. All I’d achieved was another bout of sharp teeth-grinding pain.
Gnarl dodged the spittle, his movement so lightning-fast it appeared blurred. Immediately he punched me hard, burying his fist in my guts. I thought he must have eviscerated me alive. I heard the nauseating sound of sna
pping bones; my body convulsed in a paroxysm of unbearable pain. I arched in my bonds, shuddering, my spasming chest failing to retrieve the wind he’d knocked out of me.
“Hey hey hey! Easy! You’re gonna kill him!” the woman hissed behind his back.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” the Technomancer said, squinting at me. “He’s as good as dead, anyway. After everything this snotnose has done...”
I suddenly sensed the fury he emitted. It felt cold as ice but it didn’t make it any less frightening. And still, I felt no fear — if anything, I had the satisfaction of knowing that my enemy was on the wrong track. So they’d failed to recognize the Incarnator within me? They thought I was just a Legion tribute with a naturally strong Source? Very well.
“You’re good at fighting helpless prisoners,” I spat out blood and lifted my head, locking my stare with his. “Untie my hands... then we can talk.”
“Man to man? This might be quite funny, actually,” he muttered pensively. His face — the face of the first Incarnator I’d ever met — lit up with a predatory grin. “Very well. That’ll give us a chance to check my theory. Set him free!”
More people came. They twisted my arms behind my back and dragged me outside, taking me somewhere else. The crimson rays of the setting sun assaulted my eyes. We were right in the midst of the Rogues’ camp, surrounded by all sorts of vehicles, tents and canopies stretched from one truck to the next. The bearded tawny-skinned techno nomads sat by the fires, looking grim. Some were wounded, their tattooed bodies covered in bloodied bandages. Many of the heavy vehicles were still smoking, sporting gaping holes in their bodywork.
Had I done all this? Well, in that case, Angel’s last flight must have really put a lid on their ambitious plans. They must have failed to take the fort. Because if they had, they wouldn’t be questioning me here. They’d have taken me to the fort, probably to Angel’s statue in the main square.
Lots of curious onlookers trailed after us until finally I was forced to a halt next to a large armored vehicle — one of the Rogues’ own concoctions which looked like a cross between a tortoise and a walking tank.
On top of it, I saw several criss-crossed planks fastened over the rusty armor plates. People hung from them, crucified. They’d been flayed, looking like crimson chunks of raw meat. And the most horrible thing was, they seemed to be still alive.
Hard fingers turned my head.
“See this?” Gnarl whispered. “This is how these people kill their enemies. First they pump them with snuff until they zone out, then they flay them and nail them to this cross. After a few hours, the drug starts to wear off... Release him!”
Once freed, I scrambled back to my feet and looked around me at the crowd forming around us. I was limping; any sharp movement echoed in my spine and my gut. Still, my arms and legs seemed to obey me. With every passing second, I seemed to regain control over my body. Which meant I probably had no fatal injuries, most likely thanks to my initial bone tissue reinforcement.
I kneaded my numb wrists, watching the other Incarnator from under my frowned eyebrows. He stepped back. My blue knife dropped at my feet.
“Okay, Fenrir cub, pick up your Fang,” Gnarl said, spreading his arms wide. “I have no weapons on me. Show me what they teach you in the Legion these days. If you manage to defeat me, you’ll live. If you lose, you’ll end up up there,” he nodded at the victims pinned to the crosses like some bleeding blossoms.
A duel? He wanted to turn this into a gladiatorial fight for the crowd’s entertainment? Refusing it would be pointless; I really should try and kill him.
The knife’s rough hilt in my hand suddenly gave me some strength, filling me with energy. I had Blue Steel on my side, capable of killing even a creature of Azure. My chances were quite reasonable; he had no idea of what I was capable of. I should really play this card. Also, I had my Fiend — just in case.
The fight’s outcome became pretty clear after the first twenty seconds. I’d been badly wrong. My chances were zero. I had no hope in hell. It was like pitting a newborn puppy against a seasoned fighting dog. And it wasn’t even because of my inadequate physical state. No idea how many upgrades and Evolutions this Technomancer had had, but he was infinitely more superior to me than I was superior to a regular human being. His movements were impossible to trace. Even though I could move and hit really fast, that meant nothing to him.
My next swing with the knife met thin air. Gnarl grabbed my wrist and twisted it until the bones snapped. An agonizing pain shot up my arm. Trying to free myself from his grip, I hit him twice, first with my fist, then with my elbow. Both blows connected, each of them strong enough to kill a regular human, but this time it felt like I was fighting a stone monster. He showed no reaction whatsoever. My smashed knuckles exploded in pain.
Gnarl nonchalantly flung me aside. My nose plowed through the gray dust which stank of blood.
I just didn’t have enough body reserves. In order to tackle an opponent like this, you had to have at least one Evolution under your belt, allowing you to go beyond the boundaries of a regular human body. Alternatively, one could use one’s Azuric abilities — but my damned interface was down!
It had to be the Fiend. I had to release the Azuric creature trapped within my knife. I had no other option. At the moment, Gnarl was just playing with me like a well-fed cat with a baby mouse, but still his every blow could become my last.
I drew the knife across my palm, leaving a trail of blood on the blade. Old Rico the Enchanter had been right in assessing its properties.
Fenrir’s seal erupted in a flurry of blue sparks. A red-hot dot dropped off the knife’s blade, immediately turning into a fiery wolf.
The phantom froze between me and Gnarl, looking slowly around. The rogues shrank back, apparently scared by this arrival of a creature of Azure.
Gnarl hadn’t budged though. On the contrary, he stepped forward. His skinny outline blurred, enveloped in a pale purple glow. The already-familiar energy lasso grew out of his right hand, swirling.
“Bad try,” my enemy’s voice rang with contempt. “He recognizes me.”
My wolf shrank, raising his hackles and visibly growing smaller. I’d never seen anything like it! The Fiend seemed to be afraid of a motionless stranger who fixed him with his stare. Growling and dripping sparks, he suddenly dashed back toward the knife, turning into a fiery spark which disappeared within the blue blade.
He got scared. He’d scarpered back to safety.
I looked around me desperately, trying to come up with something that could help me but finding nothing. By now, my right hand didn’t obey me. Mustering every ounce of willpower to block out the paralyzing pain, I switched the Fang to my left hand.
Faking desperation, I lunged at Gnarl head on. He met me with an almighty whack on the head, sending iridescent circles swarming before my eyes. I must have passed out for a second. When I’d come round, I was lying on my back.
“Not bad for a mock Incarnator,” a jeering voice said above me. “You gonna get up or what?”
I staggered back to my feet. My head was swimming. My knife, where was it? Everything blurred before my eyes.
“Right, time to wrap up this show,” Gnarl said wearily.
His voice seemed to reach me from deep underwater. I realized I was staggering. The world was spinning fast around me, the immobile Gnarl and the distorted faces of hollering Rogues swirling in a crazy whirligig.
Gnarl walked over to me. His next blow was so sharp I went literally blind with the racking pain that exploded in my leg. I dropped down and screamed, reeling, unable to suppress the cries of pain. Now I was unable to get back to my feet.
“It hurts, I know,” Gnarl said. “I broke your knee. You disappointed me. With a Source that powerful, you could have thought of something better than brandishing your knife, of all things. Never mind. Goodbye, you ridiculous excuse for an Enchanter. Tell Fenrir Iceberg says hello!”
A purple glow formed around his raised fist, m
aking it clear he was about to deal the final blow.
Chapter 1
“ICE, WAIT.”
The woman in the blue cape fearlessly stepped between us. She grabbed Gnarl’s wrist, stopping the blow. Giant dark shadows of cyberwargs flanked her petite frame.
“You keep out of this, Evelynn!” Gnarl hissed, shaking his hand free of her grip. “And take your mutts away!”
“But we haven’t even questioned him properly yet! If you kill him now, we’ll never know the City’s part in all this! Also, this body... don’t you think we can use it?”
She uttered the last words under her breath, standing very close to Gnarl. That was something not meant for prying ears.
For a while, Gnarl remained silent as if overtaken by doubt. Then the purple glow around his fist expired. He lowered his hand.
“You have a point. Emotions got the better of me,” he said quietly. “I got wound up and very nearly granted this snotnose an easy death. Take him if you wish. See if you can squeeze him dry.”
The Enchanter (Project Stellar Book 2): LitRPG Series Page 1
