The Cheater's Return

by Brian McGoldrick

  The Cheater's Return

  Primacy Online

  Book 1

  Brian McGoldrick

  The Cheater's Return

  Brian McGoldrick

  Copyright © 2018 by Brian McGoldrick

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  Edition: August 2019

  Contents

  The Cheater's Return

  Book Summary: The Cheater's Return

  Prologue

  A New Start

  Follow the Dolly's Trail

  Tomb in the Mountain

  Interlude: The Patriarch

  Barrow Island

  Inheritance of Crom Cruach

  Shadows from the Past

  Barrow Raiding

  Carrying a Noob

  Ruins of Games Past

  Holy Crusaders

  Bounty Targets

  Book Summary: The Cheater's Return

  Life on Earth was nearly eradicated in World War III, and since World War III, wars have been fought inside an MMORPG.

  In the chaos following World War III, the Patriarch of the Church of the Resurrection rebuilt Earth's society into a collection of over 500 independent city-states. With alien technology that gave him complete control over the Earth's orbital space, the Patriarch outlawed war, and introduced the Constructed Reality MMORPG Primacy Online . He only allowed the city-states to engage in military conflicts with one another inside of the game. City-state leaders that attempted to ignore Church Canon were destroyed, along with their armies, by the Church's orbital particle cannons. For more than a thousand years, there have been no wars fought on the Earth's soil.

  The release of Primacy Online VI: Legacy of Balor signals the beginning of World War IX. Each city-state will lock 50,000 draftees into cryogenic capsules and upload their minds into character sheathes in the game. Until the armistice conditions have been reached, they will play Primacy Online in War Mode, with the death of the character sheathes meaning their real deaths, but this time there is a twist to the World War. Every still living perma-banned cheater from Primacy Online will be a special draftee for World War IX. They will be organized into a special contingent in the service of the Church of the Resurrection.

  Patrick Armagh is terminally ill. Like a large number of other Primacy Online players, he is afflicted with an incurable nervous system disorder. He has less than five years to live and should be exempted from the draft, but five years ago, he was given a permanent ban from Primacy Online for cheating. Along with the other perma-banned cheaters, he will be forced to play Primacy Online VI: Legacy of Balor in War Mode, but Patrick's actual method of cheating was never discovered.

  Morgan Danan, Speaker of the City of Mann, and the acknowledged number one player of Primacy Online has a deal for Patrick. With her help and his undiscovered cheat, he has the chance to become a virtual God within Primacy Online . When you are already as good as dead, there is nothing better than the chance to spend your last days as a living god.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Prologue

  Earth: Yukon City

  April 22, 1337 AA

  "WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR!" Accompanied by the stomping of feet, the chanting of nearly fifteen thousand voices echoed thunderously from walls and ceiling of the abandoned manufacturing plant. The spectators were packed around three sides of a ring, built two-thirds of the way to one side of the former manufacturing floor.

  A roughly constructed wooden wall, with chain link fencing on top, blocked access to the back quarter of the building, where a second floor with VIP seating had been built. In the face of the wall, a row of betting windows had lines of people placing wagers on the coming match, and in the raised VIP seating area behind the bookies' stations, hundreds of wealthy spectators looked on.

  Sitting at a table near the railing of the VIP seating area, a tall woman, wearing a red leather jacket over a tight black skirt and blouse, indifferently observed the packed crowd. Her long hair cascaded over the back of her chair, like a black waterfall, and her grey eyes were as cold as midwinter snow.

  Looking at one of her bodyguards, the woman said something, and the man quickly headed for the stairs leading down to the former manufacturing floor. When the bodyguard approached the seconds for Wild Boar's challengers, they engaged in a brief conversation, and the bodyguard handed them a certified credit stick.

  Seeing the exchange, Vincent Torino frowned. He was the owner of the extralegal fighting club, and he did not like outsiders interfering with his livelihood. With his own bodyguards at his back, he walked toward the woman.

  "BETTING WINDOWS FOR THE NEXT MATCH WILL CLOSE IN FIVE MINUTES!" A man's voice boomed from loudspeakers on top of the roughly constructed wall, and an extra wave of people ran for the betting lines.

  Standing behind the woman, her pair of bodyguards stared coldly at Vincent as he approached, but at the woman's subtle gesture, they refrained from taking action.

  "Ms. Danan, I am Vincent Torino, the proprietor of this pugilistic venue. It is truly a pleasure to have you here this evening. I never expected to see someone of your status in my humble club." Vincent's clearly enunciated words and cultured voice were at odds with his appearance. Except for a bit of a gut that he was growing, his heavily muscled body was on par with a world champion bodybuilder, and his completely shaven head and scarred face looked as though a herd of elephants had trampled over them, many times.

  "I know." The soft and husky voice of Ms. Danan, the woman in the red jacket, was as emotionless as her grey eyes.

  Taken aback by Ms. Danan's icy demeanor, Vincent paused for a moment. "Well, if there is anything that I can do for y--."

  "There will not be. Leave me in peace." Ms. Danan cut off Vincent and turned her attention back to the crowd surrounding the fighting ring on the former manufacturing floor.

  Keeping his expression carefully neutral, Vincent turned and walked away. Upon reaching his personal booth in the back of the VIP seating area, he sat down and stared at Ms. Danan and her two bodyguards.

  "Boss, why did you take that from some uppity slitch?"

  Vincent looked at the bodyguard. "Rick, do you play Primacy Online ?"

  Rick's betrayed surprise. "Come on, Boss. You know I don't got no interest in them kiddie games. You're the only one that…"

  Rick looked at the other bodyguard, who pretended not to even know Rick was there, and looked back at Vincent's expressionless face. "Uh…Ah…Boss…you know what I mean. Me and the rest of the boys, we're too dumb for them kiddy… uh…net…yeah, net games."

  "Rick, I know you have the IQ of a rock, but you should at least try to pretend that you have the intellect of a common cow."

  Rick smiled. "Yeah, Boss. I'll do that."

  Rick looked around for anything that could give him a lifeline and remembered the woman and her bodyguards. "Uh, Boss. Who is that slitch?"

  Vincent sighed in exasperation. "Morgan Danan."

  After waiting about thirty seconds for his boss to continue, Rick worked up his courage. "Is she another Boss?"

  Unable to keep his irritation in check, Vincent glared at his bodyguard. "Rick, did your mother drop you on your head as a child?"

  At the question, Rick's face brightened, and he proceeded to happily butcher the spoken Panglish language. "Yeah, she used to said she never did, but I remem
ber a bunches of times."

  After wincing, the second bodyguard looked over his shoulder at Vincent. "Boss, I don't recognize the bitch, either. Is she from outside Yukon City?"

  Vincent looked pensively at the woman. "She is Morgan Danan from the City of Mann. She has been in every World War from World War V on."

  "Then, she's a gamer like you, Boss?"

  Vincent laughed. "No, she is nothing like me. That woman is an expert, one of the top experts in the world. She lives her life in a cryo-capsule and spends all her time in the game. She is someone that stands near the peak of all gamers."

  "Why is she here, Boss?"

  Vincent did not reply to his bodyguard and stared broodingly at the roughly constructed wall with the betting window. At the opposite side of the building from where Morgan's bodyguard had spoken with the fighter's group, there was another set of doors that Wild Boar would use to enter the former manufacturing floor. Could Wild Boar be who I thought he was? Why would someone like that be fighting here? His staff style is just too close to that monster's spear fighting style. I will never forget it, but Wild Boar claims that he is not that person.

  While Vincent was staring at the doors, they opened and a hugely obese man walked out, with his taped fists held above his head. Standing at least half a head taller than nearly anyone in the crowd, he looked like a mountain of blubber on legs. Rolls of fat hid the waistband of his fighting trunks, and with every step, his folds on top of folds of pasty, white-skinned flab bounced and jiggled. As he made his way to the ring, he gave out double high fives and shook hands with dozens of people.

  "WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR!" The crowd's chanting tripled in volume.

  When Wild Boar looked up toward the VIP seating, Vincent nodded to him. He did not like Wild Boar, but he did not dislike the man, either. While he knew a few things about Wild Boar, he could never get to know the man well enough to have any real feelings regarding him.

  Wild Boar kept everyone at a distance. The jovial, grinning fat man walking through the crowd was just an act that he put on for the matches.

  As Wild Boar's eyes paused on Morgan, Vincent was certain that he saw a gambit of emotions run through them, before they turned as cold as Morgan's had been. Wild Boar clearly knew who the woman was, but it was unclear exactly how he felt about her.

  Upon reaching the chain link fence enclosed ring, Wild Boar kept his hands raised high over his head and made victory signs with his fingers. In response, the crowd roared and cheered. None of them knew anything about Wild Boar, but the man was the pride of the fighting club. After more than four years, he had never been defeated once.

  One of Vincent's security thugs walked over, and Wild Boar leaned down.

  Wild Boar grinned and nodded.

  Taking out his pocket assistant, Vincent hit the speed dial for the head bookie.

  "Yes, Boss?"

  "What is tonight's mark?"

  "One minute, thirty-five is ideal, but anything under two minutes is good. The bettors don't think much of the competition tonight."

  "Thank you." Vincent ended the call.

  Since Wild Boar had never lost a fight, Vincent changed the betting structure and made his money off Wild Boar's fights with bets on how long the opponent could last. Each bet was for a ten-second window where the opponent would be put down, and the odds were always 2:1 for every time block after the first minute. Under a minute, the blocks were divided into five-second windows, and the shorter the time to knockout, the more the odds increased for it. Except for a few true suckers, no one ever made a large bet, but when almost everyone placed a bet, the house take for each of Wild Boar's fights would exceed five hundred thousand credits.

  There had been times where a fighter and his team had tried to rig the fights for a sub five-second KO, but Wild Boar always mercilessly toyed with anyone that tried to throw a fight against him.

  Looking at Wild Boar's opponent, Vincent sighed. It is almost impossible to find anyone in this city-state that can even pretend to put up a fight with Wild Boar. I might have to start recruiting fighters from other city-states.

  Most nights the optimal time for Wild Boar to finish the fight was between four and five minutes. With his skill at controlling the fights, Wild Boar would almost never put his opponent down in less than five minutes, but if he dragged out a fight for too long with a loser opponent, the crowd would not be happy.

  Entirely enclosed by forty sections of twelve-foot high chain link fence, the ring was just over a hundred feet across on any axis. Ignoring the two doors in the fence, Wild Boar leaped into the air, and grabbing the top rail, he flipped over the fence.

  BOOM!

  As Wild Boar's massive body landed on the plywood covered ring floor, it sounded like a huge drum being beat.

  "WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR! WI-LD BOAR!" Through a near-miracle that might not be explainable with modern science, the already screaming crowd managed to double the volume of its chant, but when Wild Boar made a stop motion with both hands, the crowd slowly quieted down.

  "Are you ready to see me kick some ass?" Without using a megaphone, Wild Boar's shout was loud enough that everyone in the abandoned factory could hear him clearly.

  "YES!"

  "Do you think this bitch can win?"

  "NO!"

  "Do you care what the bitch's name is?"

  "NO!"

  "What do you want?"

  "BRING OUT THE BITCH!"

  "BRING OUT THE BITCH!"

  "BRING OUT THE BITCH!"

  Wild Boar's opponent was shorter than Wild Boar, but he was still 125kg of well-conditioned muscle and bone that stood 182cm tall. As he listened to the crowd's chant, his flushed face was an ugly picture of indignation and hate. It was not easy being the opponent in the home ground of a man that had never lost a single fight.

  With the ugly scowl still on his face, the opponent whispered something to the man that Morgan's bodyguard had originally spoken with. After the other nodded and replied, the opponent looked at the top of the fence, and his scowling face turned into an even uglier, spiteful mask. Jerking open one of the two cage doors, he charged into the cage like an enraged bull.

  Despite his enraged appearance, the opponent smirked and dove at Wild Boar's leg in a single leg takedown attempt. Without bothering to move from where he stood, Wild Boar sent the opponent rolling across the ring with an open-hand slap.

  Ding-Ding-Ding!

  "Boo!"

  "Loser!"

  "Bitch!"

  "Pussy!"

  As the bell sounded and the time clock started, the crowd rained down abuse on the opponent, but Wild Boar just calmly stood in the center of the ring. The layers of fat on his face gave it the shape of a ball and made it nearly impossible to discern any expression, but the tilt of his head made it clear that he was looking down on his opponent.

  As Wild Boar extended his hand and made a come here gesture with his index finger, his lips opened, exposing big white teeth, in what everyone assumed was a grin.

  Angrily slapping the ring with both hands, the opponent surged to his feet and charged at Wild Boar, but as soon as he reached his kicking distance, he stopped and threw a high, showy round kick at the side of Wild Boar's face. As Wild Boar leaned a little to one side, the opponent's kick completely missed, and he spun around in a circle.

  As the opponent unleashed a wild barrage of kicks and punches, Wild Boar finally moved. He slipped by every attack with so slight of a margin that each attack looked like it would land. Moving gracefully around the ring, Wild Boar looked like a dancing elephant.

  "SLAP THE BITCH! SLAP THE BITCH! SLAP THE BITCH!" After Wild Boar did nothing but dodge for twenty seconds straight, the crowd started a new chant.

  While continuing to avoid every strike, Wild Boar spun his right arm in a rapid circle like a windmill. Once his opponent's face turned nearly purple from rage, Wild Boar stepped inside one of his kicks and slapped him across the cheek.

&n
bsp; After being flipped head over heels, the opponent rolled across the ring toward the gate he entered from. While trying to rise to his feet, he fell on his face twice. Finally managing to stand, he grabbed the fence and stared at Wild Boar. His hate, anger, and outrage were gone, and the only thing left in his eyes was fear.

  A towel flew over the top of the fence to land on the floor of the ring.

  "Loser!"

  "Who's your daddy, bitch!"

  "Get the fuck out of here!"

  "Pussy!"

  "Run home to mommy!"

  "Boo!"

  With the crowd's hostility reverberating through the abandoned factory like a wild storm, Wild Boar looked and Vincent and shrugged.

  Vincent was displeased with the fighter's second for throwing in the towel. He hit one of the speed dial numbers on his pocket assistant.

  "Yes, Boss?"

  "Break all their arms and legs, and break the back of the one that threw in the towel."

  "Yes, Boss."

  "You need a real opponent." Morgan's words sounded soft-spoken, but her husky voice was clearly heard by everyone in the abandoned factory.

  Vincent ended his call and looked toward Morgan. With confusion in his eyes, an annoyed frown replaced his usual expressionless mask.

  Following Morgan's statement, silence settled on the abandoned manufacturing plant. It was so still that a dropped pin would be heard hitting the floor.

  Staring at the back of Morgan, who was standing on the railing at the front of the VIP section, Vincent frowned. She really did come here for Wild Boar. He convinced me I was wrong, but maybe, I was right.

  Wild Boar's lips separated, revealing what might be a grin, and putting his fists on the rolls of fat covering his hips, he stood with his arms akimbo. "Just what in all God's hells does the Immortal Ice Queen, Morgan Danan, want with a nobody like me?"

  After Morgan arched one eyebrow and stared at Wild Boar for a very long-seeming twenty seconds, her soft-spoken words filled the abandoned factory. "Nobody with your skills at fighting is a nobody."

  Wild Boar laughed. "I'm a fat pig fighting for my supper, and you're Raven Goddess, the undisputed number one player of Primacy Online . Since you're debut in Primacy Online , you haven't lost a single fight. It would be a shame to break your streak tonight."