Tartila Mine (The Alchemist Book #5): LitRPG Series

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “Why aren’t they flying closer?” Tailyn asked, not taking his eyes off the destroyers. Just a little while before, the machines had been flying to the aid of their emperor, though they had stopped to hover a few kilometers from the city. A few shots told them their plasma charges didn’t have the range to hit Mean Truk. But they didn’t come any nearer.

  “I’m not sure what the mages are doing, either,” Valanil said, peeking over the battlement one more time. “Why aren’t they attacking? I don’t get what’s going on... One, how much longer is it going to take to deal with the emperor?”

  “He locked himself up, devoting all his energy to defense,” came the disappointing reply. “I don’t have the data to predict how long it will take me to wear down his armor—that would require my parent’s resources since he knew about the general’s internal reserves. All I can do is keep going and hope for the best. Sooner or later, it’ll happen.”

  Valanil stood up straight, no longer worried about Crobar crossbows. Whoever was managing the attack had something else on their mind.

  “Judging by those bastards, it’s not going to work—they’re backing off. I can’t imagine they decided to give up on the emperor, so that means they know he’ll be able to hold out until their next attack.”

  As if in confirmation, a horn blared across the Gray Lands to signal a retreat. The mages obeyed, though it was clear even from that distance that they had no desire to do so.

  “There’s something going on in their camp,” Tailyn said. He’d taken on duties as lookout since the temple had been destroyed.

  “They’re buying time,” Valanil said. “I’d bet my head they’re going to send a negotiator, tell us we can put down our weapons and go beg for the mercy of the emperors. They might even let us keep our lives, all except you and Valia, of course.”

  “It isn’t just a negotiator; it’s the viceroy!” Tailyn exclaimed when the figure riding toward the city took form. A long pole with a white flag had been fixed to the horse. Apparently, they’d had to improvise.

  “Shoot him?” Forian said thoughtfully as he eyed one of the crossbows.

  “And never find out why he risked his life?” Valanil replied reproachfully, though that was when Sadil stepped in. He was in charge of the right wing, which meant his losses had been minimal.

  “If we assume they need time for some reason, the viceroy will be looking for his son. He needs Ronan; his troops need time; we need to regroup. A break is good for everyone, though I don’t like the suspense. Hard to say what they have up their sleeve.”

  The erstwhile head of security for the academy was right on the money. The viceroy stopped a hundred meters away from the walls and shouted over to the group.

  “I’m looking for Tailyn Vlashich! I want to buy my son’s freedom, and the emperors and patriarch guarantee Tailyn’s security during the negotiations!”

  “Let me go hear what he has to offer,” Forian said. “Valanil, redistribute our forces. There are too many digitals left in our sector, and they aren’t fighters. And yes, we need time—Tailyn has to recover. We’re doomed without him.”

  Forian leaped down lightly off the wall and headed toward the viceroy. After watching him go, Tailyn turned to hide his feelings. He wanted to howl in frustration. It had suddenly hit him that they weren’t going to be able to fight off the attack. Everyone who had entrusted themselves to him was as good as dead. Glancing over at the frozen emperor, he’d noticed that he had stopped struggling and attacking as soon as the horn had sounded. His legs had withdrawn into his body, turning him into a smooth, cylindrical piece of metal.

  At the same time, a conversation was happening a hundred meters away from the wall.

  “I’m not going to talk with you,” the viceroy said derisively as soon as Forian got there.

  “You will if you want your son back,” the treasurer replied evenly, though the viceroy immediately knocked him off track.

  “You heard me. Either I talk to Tailyn, or I don’t talk at all. Yes, I care a good deal about Ronan, but not enough to go counter to my principles, and Tailyn is the main enemy here. It’s an honor to speak with people like him, but who are you? One of his hangers-on? An outcast from your family and tribe? You’re the dust that gathers on the boots of this world’s greatest figures, and you should know that the Tarn house has been pulled up by the roots. We even found your distant relatives, leaving just you and Sadil. But that will be fixed soon enough. Go back and tell them what I said—just remember that if Tailyn doesn’t show up in the next hour, we’re going to begin the attack. And it will be your last...”

  Before meeting the viceroy, Forian had tuned on his audio communication to make sure the city leaders all heard the conversation. The only reaction came from Sadil as the old man cursed long and hard, though he didn’t take it beyond that. As Valanil ran around, explaining to the defenders where they were supposed to stand, Tailyn looked over at her. Their eyes met before she went back to what she was doing. But much had been said. She needed time.

  “Tell the viceroy I’ll come talk to him,” Tailyn said as he activated Fang. “One, how accurate is our blaster? And how much time do you need to take a shot inside the city?”

  “A few milliseconds to aim with an accuracy of one square millimeter,” came the reply.

  “Tailyn, don’t even think about it!” Valia and Valanil said, though the boy wasn’t listening.

  “They need time to get the emperor out. I know that. You know that. They know that we know. So, what’s the point of all this? The viceroy needs Ronan? Okay, we can talk about that. But they’re not getting the emperor—he should never have showed up in my city. One, can you evaluate the emperor’s most critical spot?”

  “I ran the analysis and highlighted the point.” A red dot showed up on the general’s body. “The chances of that hiding its biggest weakness is 68%.”

  “Then get ready to shoot. I’m going to open up a hole in the body; you take care of the rest.”

  Valanil sprinted back in Tailyn’s direction, looking to stop him, but she was too late. The boy had already teleported over to his dragon. Still feeling poorly, he couldn’t guarantee that he could stay steady even if his body was responding once again. Standing up, for example, was out of the question. A bulging drop of sweat ran down his face as each movement sent a wave of pain through him despite his regeneration. As he tossed a stone over toward the red dot on the emperor’s body, he was happy to see it land just half a meter away. That was going to be enough for one hit.

  Just don’t die, he heard Valia say right before he activated his teleportation. The space around him blurred slightly as he materialized next to the emperor, who was still checking his surroundings despite all his hatches being battened down. But everything happened so quickly that there was nothing the machine could do. Fang slipped easily through the energy shield and the general’s body. Still, even as Tailyn began slicing downward to open up a hole, he found he didn’t need to. Necrotic energy had already taken over. Thick strands rushed forward, demonstrating that One had been wrong. Either the general or the emperor—Tailyn still hadn’t figured out what to call him—wasn’t a machine at all.

  He was a living being, and Fang was only too happy to send him back into the System where he had been born. But the next message wasn’t the victory anyone was expecting.

  You destroyed a non-level creature.

  All your attributes and skills were increased by 5.

  Level +3 (118)

  Named item level +1 (19)

  ***

  Mourn, planet!

  One of the emperors was killed by Tailyn Vlashich!

  The inhabitants of the Third Empire lost their protector and have been sentenced to immediate elimination.

  ***

  You killed the leader of the Third Empire, which led to the deaths of a fourth of the planet’s population (approximately 20 million people).

  Significant planet resources have been freed up.

  ***


  The head of Mean Truk was found guilty of genocide.

  Mean Truk level reduced to 2, which entails the following changes:

  — Active protection system deactivated.

  — Guard commander put into sleep mode.

  — Builders and Architect put into sleep mode.

  — Mentors and Students sculpture benefits no longer applies to the city population.

  A triumphant shout rang out from thousands of voices on the other side of the wall. Thanks to their emperors, the enemy army could see the messages those in Mean Truk were getting, and they couldn’t have been happier. The city wasn’t going to last long without the dome.

  The viceroy whirled his horse around and galloped back to the camp. The bolts fired after him glanced harmlessly off his back, unable to pierce his Vargot or do any sort of damage. His job was done.

  He came on purpose! Valia thought to Tailyn. He wanted to give us time so you would kill the emperor—he knew you would do that sooner than go talk to him.

  “I see things are going well here,” said a familiar voice that made Tailyn jump and forget everything his betrothed was saying. Looking up, he saw Sadil holding a portal card. Out stepped mage after mage, the group rushing up to the wall and setting up protective domes capable of keeping them safe from all things human. Presumably, they weren’t going to stand up to the destroyers. But the biggest surprise wasn’t the mages; it was the person standing next to Sadil. The magic card dean was there in the flesh. Noticing the boy’s stunned gaze, he laughed.

  “Hi here, Tailyn Vlashich. The department and my personal guard are at your service—two hundred elite mages armed with all the cards and elixirs they can carry. Hopefully, that will last a couple hours.”

  “But how? Why?” was all Tailyn could ask before the portal closed.

  “I asked him to come,” Valrus said. “My student couldn’t refuse me a small favor. The emperors are aware of our guests, and so they cut off teleportation into the city in addition to teleportation out of it. We’re now cut off completely from the outside world.”

  “A small service? They’re going to die!”

  “Everyone dies, Tailyn. Sooner or later, we all meet our end. But it’s the ability to choose your final chapter that makes a man great,” the dean said with a shrug as he turned to Forian. “I’m glad you’re still alive, my student. Let’s see what you were able to learn while you were off on your own, shall we? Shoulder to shoulder?”

  The treasurer nodded silently and followed the dean up the steps. There was nothing to say. Everyone understood that there was no surviving without the protective dome, and trumpets were already resounding from the direction of the Gray Lands. As the combined forces of the empires and Crobar began their assault, Mean Truk faced being wiped off the map.

  “Wait!” Tailyn called suddenly, an absurd idea having hit him. “We don’t have to die, but we’re going to need time!”

  Chapter 19

  “ARE YOU SURE about this?” Valanil asked yet again as she stared dubiously into the murky waters. The lake by the cliff looked menacing in the thick fog that had covered Mean Truk. “You never mentioned anything about this before.”

  “I forgot about it. Well, and there really wasn’t a need. But about how sure I am... It’s pretty simple—either we die, or we don’t. But it’s better than sitting here and waiting to be killed, regardless,” Tailyn replied as he turned back and looked at where the wall should have been. The mages who had arrived with the dean had covered the city in a dense mist that kept visibility down to just a couple meters. Ten volunteers had remained on the wall while everyone else in Mean Truk headed toward the lake, though they were assisted ably by the copy of One. Despite the loss of the energy shield and the city being downgraded, they still had their cannon. The piece of ancient consciousness was bathing the walls in energy with no thought for keeping ammunition in reserve. And with how heavy the fire was, even the destroyers didn’t risk getting any closer, just lobbing shots over from range.

  “Tailyn, remember that the experiments couldn’t leave the protective done,” the reptiloid said, also a skeptical participant in the new idea. “Griala couldn’t pull it off, and it was the strongest of them.”

  “It couldn’t because the smugglers didn’t let it out,” Tailyn replied. He knew he was right. “When we first got to Mean Truk, something called Experiment 14 crawled out of this lake, and even the guards’ suicide explosions couldn’t touch it. It was just a good thing hacking and device control were still around. And that thing could only have come from one place: Tartila Mine. The river goes under the mountain, and whoever was on our planet stealing noa gave the different experiments access to it. That’s how number fourteen was able to escape.”

  “It’s more than five hundred kilometers to the mine, and our outfits don’t have oxygen tanks that last that long. We won’t make it,” Forian said pragmatically.

  “The experiment breathed air but lived in the water. There have to be caves,” Valia said. “Tailyn’s right. Either we dive in for a chance at surviving or we stay and die. I’m for the water.”

  “Take this rope—you’re going first,” Tailyn said, not waiting for anyone else to make up their mind. Burning rocks had begun raining down on the city. Unable to close in, the imperial armies were sending boulders flying at Mean Truk. They started off by targeting the central buildings rising above the fog, though they soon traded them in for the area around the lake where the city’s defenders had gathered.

  Tailyn made sure the group was ready. To begin with, he bought a few hundred meter-long ropes with clasps on them that could bind two people tightly together or link multiple people in a chain. Valia fastened the clasp to her belt and handed the other end to the nearest numerical. Not looking to argue, the erstwhile plowman took it and followed suit before picking the next rope up, hooking it to himself, and giving the other end to his neighbor. That was enough to get everybody moving.

  “Follow me!” Valia called as she stepped firmly into the water. Unsteadily and pulling the rope taught, the chain of numericals followed her. A minute passed. Then, another. And a third. The numericals filed into the water stiff-leggedly as if to their deaths. Nobody had any hope of surviving, only they wanted to stay in Mean Truk even less. A few minutes later, there was a reply from the girl.

  “The bottom is flat, the channel is three meters wide, no obstacles. Be careful—the current is really strong. Okay, and there are sharp outcroppings on the walls. Heading farther in... From what my scanner says, there’s a recess in a hundred meters, looks like an air pocket. When I get closer, I’ll be able to tell... Yes, it’s an air pocket! And it’s big enough for a few people. Keep going—there should be lots of them!”

  Tavern destroyed.

  First residential quarter destroyed.

  Tailyn took one look at the messages popping up and clenched his fists in frustration. The city that had become home was being reduced to ruins, and there was nothing he could do. It was the mages’ turn to enter the water. Much more thoughtful and surer of themselves than the numericals, they’d split into three groups, tied themselves together, and practically sprinted into the waves. Just five minutes after the evacuation had begun, Tailyn found himself alone on the shore. Everyone else was gone.

  “Everybody on the walls, you have one minute to get to the lake!” called the head of the nearly annihilated city. “One, just in case, remember to not destroy the emperors no matter what happens.”

  “I don’t have the resources for that,” the ancient replied with a note of regret.

  “They could throw themselves in the line of fire, so don’t even shoot in their direction!”

  “No, they won’t,” Forian said. As the mages dashed up, they tied themselves to each other before throwing themselves into the lake with a splash. That made sense, too—judging by the sounds coming from that direction, the wall was seconds from collapse. Even the wall of fire One was throwing up had proven futile in the face of
the forces of the world joined to level Mean Truk. Despite the losses they were sustaining, the attackers pressed forward, driven on by the righteousness of their cause.

  “Can you guarantee that?” It was time for Tailyn to hook himself to the chain. No response came, though that was because the treasurer didn’t have an answer to give. And if he’d known what was really taking place, he would have been stunned. What was happening had nothing to do with the emperors. It was all the System. In order to buy everyone else on the planet a few more months of normal life, it had been forced to sacrifice part of the population. And only adults had died—those eligible to pay taxes. Their children and some of their escorts had been spared. Even on the edge of collapse, the System had an eye on the future.