The Ruined Temple: A LitRPG Adventure (Eternal Online Book 2)

by TJ Reynolds

  My Rampage was still augmenting my movements, but my HP was already running low. I would need to deactivate it soon.

  I dove away from another strike that cracked the stone floor and pelted my legs with rock fragments. Shezkal’s attacks were precise and quick, but my ability allowed me to dodge and counter them all. Frustration seemed to overtake my opponent, and his form pulsed with a white light before he slammed his front foot in the ground. A ripple of power leapt out at me and knocked me off my feet.

  Damn this rat. He’d used some form of Stomp. I tried to get to my feet, holding my axe before me to fend off any attacks. The slash that the foreman threw at me next was aimed directly at my axe. It flew from my hands and clanged against the floor, leaving me in shock. I was facing an opponent in full plate armor, wielding a ten-foot polearm, and I held no weapon!

  The next few moments were just a blur of dodges and dives as I avoided the onslaught.

  Shezkal screamed as he attacked me. “Maybe you are one of us after all, traveler! You scurry like a little rat. You are too weak for this world. Give up and die!”

  A deeper source of rage consumed me then. Though my HP was at thirty percent and I had little hope of surviving, I stood, faced the demon, and growled at him.

  He laughed and struck again, aiming his blow at my belly. I jumped forward, ignored the blade of the weapon as it tore through the flesh over my ribs, and grabbed the shaft of the halberd. A brief look of surprise registered in the foreman’s eyes, but I didn’t pause my attack.

  Using my momentum, I kicked the ratkin in his breastplate and sent him to the ground in a heap.

  Since I had no skill for the weapon, I tossed it aside and drew the dagger at my side.

  The huge ratkin recovered quickly and held his gauntleted fists up to fend me off.

  He swung out in a wide haymaker, but I ducked it easily. Suddenly, being heavily armored was not to his advantage. Another punch. This time I swept under his outstretched arm, wrapped my arms around his waist, and used every ounce of strength in my body to throw him over my hip. The clash of armor was a riot in my ears, and I followed him to the ground, straddling his breastplate and sinking my dagger into his skull through his visor slit.

  My chest heaved, and I noticed my vision was beginning to turn gray.

  I stared down at the dead creature and thought only of more violence, something else to kill.

  “Madi, let it go! Release the skill!” a voice called. I turned my head to face the new threat.

  A girl was running at me. I ripped the dagger free, intent on killing this one, too. But my head swooned a bit, and I nearly fell.

  “Madi!” the girl said. “Wake up! Release the skill or you will die!” She was beautiful, and her pale face had a spray of vibrant blood on it.

  I knew that girl. Hana.

  And as if a spell had been shattered, I knew myself again. I quickly released Rampage and gasped for air, my HP at two percent. I slumped to the ground, and then my friends dragged me away from the mess. Sleep soon took me. I floated in a sea of red.

  I woke sometime later, my health already regenerating. I had few wounds, so my normal health regen would have me up to fighting shape within an hour or so.

  Alysand was smiling at me. “You fight like a Kafliri shield sister. I am honored to stand at your side, Madi. Here. If you are not too prideful, drink this.”

  He handed me a glowing red vial that any gamer could tell you was a health potion. Still, I had only seen a few of them so far in this realm, all at the apothecary in Taelman’s Pond. They were outrageously priced. The minor ones that were being sold there were 50 dragons and only restored twenty percent of your HP.

  I drank this one and felt the fiery magic go to work within me. It wasn’t a spark of healing, but a torrent. I inspected my HP and watched in awe as it refilled swiftly.

  Tejón barreled into me, and I was grateful to see the twinkle of health in his eyes.

  Hana kneeled before me and smiled. “Alysand is right. I don’t know who the Kafliri are, but you went off back there. It’s nice to see you back again.”

  I got to my feet and surveyed the scene. The ratkin guards had been moved to one side, and a pile of shining coins glittered near them. Loot. Then I thought of the halberd. I found it leaning against the cave wall. When I inspected the weapon, my jaw dropped.

  The Foreman’s Toothpick

  Quality: Epic

  Durability 240/250

  200-400 damage

  +10 Strength, +10 Stamina, +10% Health Regeneration

  “Guys, I know I already have one like it, but can I keep this?” I asked. “It’s so pretty.” I heard Alysand laughing, and Hana just mumbled something that sounded like, “Told ya so.” I saw that the weapon’s shaft was a plain wood, dark, polished, and no doubt high-quality, but it wasn’t magical. The spearpoint and axehead, though, were inscribed with runes of power, and they still glowed with pale blue light.

  “It is a dwarven weapon,” Alysand said. “Sad to consider how such a foul host had come to hold it. No doubt some clan died defending their home. This is a fine weapon, though. I had the thought that if one were to combine the head of this weapon with the bone handle of yours, something truly magnificent might be made.” His eyes were filled with mirth as he said this. He knew me too well.

  I compared the weapon to my own axe. The crescent moon of the halberd was almost twice as big as my axe’s blade. Yet when I hefted it, I noticed the weight was comparable.

  “How on earth?”

  “Mithril, of course. They are good smiths, but the metal they work with and the runes they use to inscribe them deserve much of the credit.”

  I shook my head and imagined what it would be like to swing the hung thing around, cutting down enemies with ease.

  “So, what now?” I asked at last. “You’ve looted them, and no doubt there are a few more of the bastards in the tunnels, but do we just leave now?”

  Alysand’s face took on a grim expression. Then, without saying a word, he pointed to the back of the cavern. I looked over, and despite the burning torches all around, I saw an opening at the back that I hadn’t noticed before, too focused on the twisted trow and the ratkin elites.

  “What’s back there?”

  “I snuck close enough to notice that it’s incredibly hot in there, and, well…” Hana paused, grasping for words. “Something is breathing back there. Something big.”

  The sound of my own laughter was loud enough to scare my companions. Tonight was going to be epic, no doubt about it.

  “No time like right freaking now,” I said, spinning my axe in my hand.

  We ate jerky and drank our fill of water. After a few minutes, we decided there was no reason to delay any longer.

  The cavern grew hotter as we moved toward the rear passage. From a distance, it looked tiny, but the cavern itself was deceptively long, nearly a mile. The further in we got, the more the vast ceiling and walls began to close in.

  A stone archway, carved by crude and hurried strokes, led to a tunnel that stood perhaps fifteen feet high. A bend in the path concealed what lay beyond, but now I could hear what Hana had mentioned: the sound of lungs so vast they could fill the sails of a ship.

  I looked back at the party and buffed everyone. Alysand smiled and gave me a look. It told me that when the fight started, he would be using his as well.

  The heat increased as I followed the tunnel, and soon, a dull orange glow lit the way ahead.

  Another cavern opened up at last, and as I peeked around the corner, I saw a creature that froze my limbs with fear. Laying on a pile of iron ore, and sleeping contentedly, was a scaled monster. Not a dragon, but a cousin perhaps.

  Anwar Flamestar: Elder Wyvern

  Level ?

  HP: ?

  Abilities: ?

  Question marks all the way around. Not a good sign.

  The wyvern was less bulky than Marduk had been, but its length sprawled across the pile of scorching metal. I gu
essed if it stretched itself out, it might be close to one hundred feet long.

  An instinctual fear took hold of my limbs. When we had encountered Marduk, she wasn’t sleeping. The psycho bear had jumped us, and the rest was a reaction. This was different. I could see everything, think clearly, and knew only was that running seemed like an excellent idea.

  To my fascination and horror, Alysand stepped forward, walking to the edge of a small precipice that fell down into the bowl of the chamber. “Hail! Anwar Flamestar. Hail mighty wyvern of the Fafniri clan. I am Alysand Rowl Deschaney of Old Gil. I wish to speak with you but for a moment.”

  Without moving, the creature opened an enormous eye. It scanned us and rested its gaze on Alysand. After a while it spoke in a voice of rasping steel and hissing steam. “I have heard of you, and I am grateful that Gil is no longer. Too long have you fire singers sought to meddle in the affairs of others. Why are you here, mage? And why should I not kill you at once?”

  “Because I came first with words, not bullets. I simply wish to ask you a few questions. Has the courtesy of your house fallen so low, great master?” Alysand’s tone was even and gentle, yet his choice of words shocked me. Was the old man gonna get us killed?

  A hiss erupted from the wyvern’s mouth, and he lifted his head from its resting place. “Question my house again and I’ll show you the courtesy of my stomach. I’ve answered you with words thus far. Ask your questions and be gone.”

  “What do you know of the Rat King?”

  A laugh filled the room, the wyvern’s sides heaving. “He has grown powerful for one so small. I know he could kill you easily enough. And I know he will hold his crown for years to come.”

  This response was troubling. Alysand seemed to think the same, for he stared down at his boots a moment and sighed before looking up again. “Do you serve him?”

  “I serve none but myself,” the wyvern answered quickly. Then he ground his teeth, as if tasting something foul. “Yet he has promised me much. This lovely pile of ore is but a tithe of what he will pay. Soon, gold and gems will fill this cavern as well. But iron holds heat so well, I might just keep this instead.”

  “And what have you promised him in return?”

  The creature laughed again and leaned his head out closer, stretching toward Alysand’s lonely figure. “The aid of my kindred. They will fight with him, and my sister and I get to bask in wealth. It is a pittance. The Fafniri squabble and fight anyhow. What does it matter who they fight for?”

  Alysand’s response was morose. “It matters, for your kind were not always evil. I will have to end you here, then, and make sure that enough of your kin survive to recover from the war to come.”

  “End me?” the wyvern bellowed, his head coming ever closer. The scene was absurd: Alysand, a dapper, middle-aged man was facing a wingless lizard with a head bigger than a bull’s, its two powerful legs bunching below its sleek form as it inched closer. “And how might you do such a thing? No doubt, the mighty Alysand might slay one of my brood. But me? I think not.”

  Then the creature stood and darted out its head, rows of sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight. I didn’t pull my axe free, and Hana stood by, mute and powerless as well. We stared on in hopeless terror.

  Alysand moved. A cloud of smoke and fire blasted out from his hip. No whistling this time, no humming, no song at all, but a flurry of bullets fired so quickly that their roar combined into one. The rounds crashed into Anwar Flamestar’s mouth, each exploding with the power of a grenade.

  And as the beast reached the gunsinger, it fell dead at his feet, blood pouring from the gaping hole in the back of its skull.

  Alysand stood there for a strained minute, gun still smoking, and when he turned to us, tears streaked his face.

  Though it visibly pained the man, he agreed to let Hana loot the wyvern of its scales. We each loaded our packs with them. Each scale was a hand wide and around a foot long, yet not thicker than a piece of leather and just as light. Alysand put dozens of them in his abyss bag, and the rest we placed in Pachi’s bags. Hana tried to cut out the huge fangs, but none of her knives could penetrate the skin.

  “How did you manage to do that?” I asked the gunsinger, pointing at the wound in the back of the wyvern’s head. “And why did it call you fire singer and mage?”

  “The Fafniri wyverns are an old line that remembers the origins of the gunsingers. They have many names for us, and as our craft involves magic and fire, the two he used are as fitting as any.” Alysand paused, wetting his lips and considering. Then he gestured to his waist, where he’d placed the God Bone Bullets. Only four remained.

  He took one out and held it up for us to see. “These are powerful beyond all compare. Fired from a normal gun, they are accurate and deadly. But…” He scanned our faces, taking some measure of our worth. “Did you notice the quality of my song as I fired? Did you hear it?”

  Hana shook her head, and I answered the obvious. “You were silent.”

  His smile was strained and filled with pain. For some reason, he looked like he had aged ten years or more, like some wind had swept in and pulled away the better part of his life force.

  “Just so, Madi. The first song we learn, the one we will only ever sing once, is called the Silent Hymn. The absence itself triggers a deep and ancient magic. If you saw the bullets when they were given to me, you might remember they had a locked ability. Study them now and you will understand.” He held the bullet in his upturned palm.

  God Bone Bullets

  Quality: Legendary

  +100% max damage of gun. +100% Accuracy

  Causes the Rupture effect if the following requirements are met: Bard must be fighting a god, demigod or elder creature; bard must invoke the Silent Hymn, sacrificing a portion of their own power in the act of destruction. Rupture: Penetrates all armor, scales, or skin and explodes shortly after. Single use item.

  “Holy crap!” was all I could manage, and Alysand nodded.

  “A fitting response, I suppose. Now let us leave this place.”

  The gunsinger told us to move far away from the tunnel’s entrance, and we watched at he pulled out several sticks of what looked like old-fashioned dynamite and placed them in cracks that ran up the walls.

  We crossed most of the distance before he turned back, and, whistling a tune we hadn’t heard before—drifting and airy like wind over tall grass—he fired a single bullet and collapsed the tunnel leading to the fallen wyvern. I thought of all the scales that had been buried and the ore as well. Hana had the courage to ask him.

  “We should have given the same honor to Marduk, but she had bled the town, and her body has given us all much,” Alysand said. “The scales you took will make a fine armor that you can use to fight the scourge that caused all of this. It was fitting. But wyverns as old and powerful as Anwar do not rot away like other creatures. They either bless or curse the land they die upon. His heart had turned foul, so I would rather not have the good people of Benham rooting about in there, searching for treasures that would cause more harm than good. This is best.” He gestured to the plume of dust that billowed out and away from the collapsed end of the cavern.

  It was easy to see the wisdom in Alysand’s choices, further treasures buried or now. Our party was burdened with enough scales as it was. They were hard like steel but lighter than leather. I wondered at the gear it might be turned into if we found an armorer skilled enough. Besides, I’d found an amazing weapon, one that if repurposed, might become a boon to my character. I cut the halberd down to axe size and walked with it strapped to my back.

  My bear companion had exploded in size, no doubt in response to the levels I had gained. As we marched out, the crest of his back came up to my shoulder. The silly guy must have gained a couple hundred pounds as well.

  I noted that Pachi had grown, too. She stood as tall as a horse now, though her body was lithe in comparison.

  The other tunnel led to a few more skirmishes with guards, but they were fewe
r in number, and none wore plate armor. Hana and I cut them down, Alysand only watching us, as if all strength to fight had fled from him. We took the coin they held and released the sane miners. Only a handful more of the zealots had to be put down.

  Sunlight was just beginning to rise over the horizon when we left the cave and stumbled back to our campsite. We ate a bit then passed out in a pile of gear and wyvern parts.

  When I woke a few hours later, I realized that even though I enjoyed the company of my companions, I wanted to sleep in the comfort of my pod.

  I saw Alysand and Hana rousing as well, and I told them I’d be back before nightfall. “I want to check on the auctions and sleep some more. Meet you guys again soon?”

  Hana nodded, and Alysand smiled. The gentleman still looked too refined, too rich, to be thrown in such a dirt-clogged world. Yet I recognized now that he was genuine. I nodded to him and regarded Hana. He pale cheeks were clean now, her lips the precise color between pink and purple. She caught me looking at her mouth and blushed. I took the image with me and logged out.

  As I woke, the familiar weight and pain of my body slammed down on me like a sledgehammer.

  I groaned for a time, then called out, “Gita! I need a little help!”

  The assistant droid had been an extra cost for me but was worth every YD I had spent on it. It looked much like the Gita model but was larger and excessively strong.

  Its polymer arms reached out and lifted me up from the bed, pulling me against its body. My thin legs dangled limply before I was set down in my chair.

  I drank the tonic that he gave me, and felt the dizziness slowly begin to fade. I wheeled my chair over to the corner of my room and came to rest before the extended monitor. My arms were sore, but despite the unease of immersion sickness, I insisted on pushing myself about. How else was I supposed to keep my guns?