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

by TJ Reynolds

  Shaking my head, I sent a quick reply. Yes, I wanted her to ask for his info. Yes, I wanted to meet him. It was a no-brainer. When I finished, I slogged through the rest of my inbox, thinking distantly that general inboxes had a lot in common with a quagmire, when I happened upon another message that seemed to float off of the screen.

  The subject alone had my blood running cold. It was from my dearest friends at AllHands Inc.

  Dear Dahlia Otou,

  Congratulations! Our revenue monitoring service has alerted us that you have experienced several SFIs recently (Substantial Financial Influxes). Considering your recent acquisitions, we have decided to increase the rate of debt repayment that was initially scheduled.

  Rather than a 1% payment of 2,638.48 YD per month, our algorithms indicate you should be able to repay your debt at a rate of 4% per month. Your next payment installment has been increased to 10,553.92 YD.

  Congratulations! Your debt will not only be repaid faster, but the APR interest has been reduced from 48.93% to 42.15%!

  Remember, should you fail to pay your next installment, on November 23rd, 2107, we would love to have you join our Indent Worker Team.

  Please click the link below to hear from Miguel, Indent Worker Team 117C’s promising new leader!

  Stephanie Smidt

  AllHands Inc. Staffing and Management

  Employee # 968111734189L

  The room had gone gray and silent around me. I took a breath of borrowed air, realizing that I’d been holding everything in.

  What could I do now? It seemed that AllHands Inc. was dead set on acquiring their second Otou family indent. And despite all of my efforts and many successes in the game so far, I had the feeling they were going to get their way. So as I closed down the screen and walked over to my pod, I lay down and did the one thing I had control over: I let the numbness within me fight against the sea of icy fear that threatened to take over my body.

  I found a small but quiet place within me and sheltered away from this unexpected storm. I would be strong tomorrow, I’d have to be, but for right now, this girl needed one night of honest and well-earned rest.

  8: “But because they are shackled, they are unable to turn their heads.”

  — The Old Man in the Cave

  IRON PAWS

  My arms were shaking, as usual, and my body was numb from fatigue. Though my body had grown strong, it was still plain to me that I wasn’t born for such tasks. I had been the only nezumi scribe and scholar within a hundred leagues, but those skills were frowned upon now.

  The Foreman’s voice cracked out, as sharp as the whip he bore, “Move it along! No time to waste!” He jabbed me with a pair of metal tongs, and I yelped, the implement still hot from the forge. I held up my paws and shuffled along. No need to cause any upset, especially not from Foreman Maug.

  I removed my leather apron and set down my hammer. Another day done, and I’d survived. In the old days, before the rise of the Great One, our smiths were treasured and rare. But in the last few years, any who were too weak to hold a sword were given hammer and tongs. Those like me were taught the basics of the craft. Some of us had been elevated to artisans, and still held a high status. The steel weapons and armor they made could rival almost any other race in Mariandor.

  But I was just a lowly smith.

  My shifts were an even twelve hours long, but they earned me a place in this changing world. I would not be killed out of hand, I didn’t have to hold a sword and pretend to be a warrior, only to die in the first charge, and I was allowed to eat.

  Those who refused such positions had been killed off quickly. Some even created rebellions, wanting to preserve our tribal ways. Never before had we been united under a king, and most disliked the idea. Yet Dintheel, may he rule from sea to sea, was too powerful to deny.

  His will became law.

  So in a matter of weeks, the initial rebellions had been quashed, and now all served the cause.

  I sighed, taking a few drinks from a watering ladle that hung at the side of the great forge. Looking back, I watched the next shift waddle over to their implements and begin their work, their pelts as scored and singed as my own.

  There was iron and steel to smelt, ingots to pour, and any number of crude implements to hammer out. We were the laborers of the art, so no shining breastplate or gauntlets would leave our pit.

  And even though we were but the mat that the great ones trod over, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer scope of our work. Vats of melted ore deep enough to drown a horse bubbled along the way, enough metal to make ten thousand swords and as many suits of armor. One hundred anvils lined up in rows of ten, each with its own grinding wheel and tools. At the far end of this cavern, a crew of lesser creatures—the lowly trow and tasloi not fit to fight—toiled at salvaging broken equipment and cleaning the implements we forged.

  The caverns beyond were where the artisans worked. Each day another hundred suits of armor were rolled out, oiled, and stored for use.

  I walked toward my hovel, grateful not to be watched or supervised for the first time in half a day. The sheer scrutiny of the foreman was enough to break some of us. But at least we could eat.

  I passed the great caverns, where hundreds of troops grunted in response to the shouts and jeers of commanders. I passed the dark tunnel that led down to the breeding pits where I’d seen those twisted and malformed creatures rise.

  The pop and grind of troops marching ahead made me scurry to find an alcove to hide in. They would not lash out and end a life that still had some use, not usually, but to be caught in the inexorable path of a squad of heavy infantry had ended more than a few lives.

  A voice like pocked iron snapped through the air. “Pick it up! Much march today, boys! Miles yet ‘fore you get to stop. Pick it up!”

  I found a niche in a wall just in time. Ranks of armored soldiers began to file past, their prodigious height and strength allowing them to march as quickly as I could run, at least in the state I was in. One spat on the ground near me and I caught a glint of its orange eyes, flickering with hate.

  It laughed when I flinched, but thankfully moved on. Another dozen ranks marched past and then the path was empty again.

  Fear lending me new strength, I jogged toward the only place I could rest. The image of the fiery eyes had been burned upon my mind. What foul beast had the Great One, may he rule from sea to sea, come up with now? The soldiers were covered in plate armor, but long tusks curved out from under their helms, and holes had been cut in their pauldrons, bone spikes protruding from their bodies.

  The most dangerous question began to boil in my mind again, urging me to act: What evil were we inviting into this world? Would our people ever see the light of day again? Was there any way to stop the dark tide that was coming?

  At last I came to my own home, a simple bed carved out of the stone of the mountain. I took some more water, then lay down, closed my eyes, and tried to let the questions and the constant ringing of steel in my mind cease. Like a maiden’s touch in the dark of night, sleep soothed my tattered soul.

  If I was lucky, I wouldn’t dream. Those were the best of times, hidden in the thick folds of oblivion, the only respite for those who lived in Drok Shapol.

  9: “It is best to open your eyes and see the storm coming… but oh how tempting it is to squint.”

  — Goodman Thom Reinold II

  JUDAS

  The tumble of lichen-covered ruins covered the side of the hill like discarded kingdoms now long forgotten. I trudged up the hill, pulling my cloak tighter about my shoulders, a chill running through me despite the warming spell I’d cast on myself.

  Taking a break to catch my breath, I looked behind me. I was about halfway up the only hill on the Isle of Lem, and the ocean seethed against its rocky shore like an unbridled beast. I’d read accounts of this place, so old that the paper evaporated beneath my thumbs, and yet it had remained unchanged. True, there were no elder elves here, and the Tower of Isil had long
ago fallen, but the island itself was the same. And it was beautiful: the tufts of seagrass blowing in the wind, lichen covering every surface the grass could not grow on. Though the sky was determined to remain gray and dim, the island was an emerald in a dark, sapphire sea.

  I had no desire to continue forward. My task here was frightening, the weather miserable, and I had no doubt that whatever answers I found would make for exquisite nightmares. Still, who else would do it if not for me, the wizard of Mariandor?

  I chuckled at my inflated thoughts and trudged onward. The hill wasn’t very tall, but its slope was unforgiving, and my legs were trembling with effort as I finally crested the ridge.

  And like the tomes had claimed, there stood the ring. This, at least, had not fallen. Several of the stones were marred, one cut almost in half, its top collecting lichen a few feet away. But they all stood in the same places they had first been erected. I realized that these monuments of power were exactly why the island hadn’t shifted over the millennia. Without them acting as roots, binding the physical world to the surging ether beneath, this strip of rock and grass would have been torn apart by wind and wave long ago.

  I set down my bag and pulled out the Sea Staff. It was a gnarled old piece of iron wood, the hardest wood in Mariandor. The staff had been in the top level of a rickety tower that few remembered. It was resting in a chest, of course, and when I saw the banded container, I had to roll my eyes. How faithful RPG creators and fans are. Why wouldn’t the staff be in a weapon’s rack, or resting under a display case made of diamond? Why, because an oak chest wrapped in bronze was just too classic.

  In the very center of the ring, I dug down into the soil and found the platform. Only a few inches of dirt were in my way, and I easily uncovered it. After brushing away the loose bits after, I found the socket.

  The rest was a matter of pushing the staff’s base into the socket, then activating it. I struggled with the last, twisting harder than I wanted to, testing the strength of an item generations old. Yet even as I winced, eyes closed as I used my strength to twist the staff, I felt the ancient mechanism move.

  The imagined somber voice of a long dead scholar echoed in my mind, Thrice around it turns, and thrice it will call to the sky above. I counted each turn, wanting to avoid missing the count. At the precise end of the third rotation, the staff stopped dead. I let go and took a few steps back.

  Nothing happened.

  I noted the crash of waves and the wind crying over the stone columns around me, but nothing besides.

  “Well, crap,” I said to myself, rubbing my hands together. The wind had sapped their warmth greedily, and I huffed out my impatience. I’d journeyed long and far to to get to this point. Weeks of danger and discomfort, and now nothing? What in the Wyndark Sea would I do if this didn’t work out?

  Then a pulse of power shot out from the staff, a ring exploding horizontally, knocking me on my backside, and a pillar of light lanced the sky above. Another blast emanated out a few seconds later, followed by a third.

  As soon as the buffeting power subsided, I got to my feet and summoned my casting staff. It was an ordinary yew staff that allowed me to channel mana more effectively and little more. Still, having it in my grasp always made me feel more… wizardly, I guess.

  When my eyes had began to adjust to the gloom again, the wind responded. A slow gyre formed around the hilltop, whirling around the stones. Its speed increased, and I had to run and take cover beside one of the great stones. Rain fell from a cloudless sky above and I blinked in surprise. A few of the drops found their way to my lips and the taste surprised me. Not rain, then, but salt spray!

  The whirling coalesced and formed a solid figure, a surging mass roughly in the shape of a man. His legs were a pillar of ocean water, and his body churned, sea foam and tide wrack forming his very core. I’d done it!

  The Tide Father himself stood before me!

  He searched about the hilltop and found me huddling pathetically, and he screamed, showering me in water. Both of his arms reached up and he pulled lightning from the sky. As he let the ball of power build in his fist, I did exactly what I had been told to do.

  Before fear closed my throat entirely, I shouted, “Tide Father, old and strong, I’ve come to claim a boon!”

  The words acted upon the creature and it froze. Though it had no eyes other than orbs of electricity, its glare was tangible. “Who has come for my boon and what favor did you bring?”

  I stumbled forward, fear making my every move clumsy. “Here I have holly from a mountain pass, thyme from a widow’s garden, and the most beautiful shell after a day of searching. Please accept my gifts.”

  I set the items at the elemental’s feet and it peered down at them. A tongue of water lashed out, pulling them into its swirling core.

  The Tide Father hummed in satisfaction, the sound vibrating the air. “Your offering is accepted. Now, what is your boon? Be swift. I have an ocean to tame and a kingdom to rule.”

  My boon had been decided weeks ago, but even so, the prospect of asking for anything tugged at every selfish and greedy piece of my soul.

  I pushed it all away and spoke the only words that were needed. “An evil has been growing in the land again, and the foes of the noble races increase in number. I want to know if this is but another kingdom that will rise and fall, or has the ancient evil come again? What power do we face, Tide Father?”

  The being released the storm in its hand and it rose to the sky, a few stray bolts emitting the gathered power. The elemental pushed its hands out to either side, as if tasting the entire world.

  Suddenly, a ripple of energy tore through its core, and the creature shuddered visibly. It began groaning, a sound so low it pained my joints, and the lightning in the sky began to writhe.

  Then the Tide Father spoke, his words scoring my mind with words I could never forget. “Darkness rises from the depths and pours over the western sea. A time of night and fury calls, and if the noble do not answer, all will be lost.”

  “Prepare yourself, young wizard! For the second coming of Koivash the Hungry is upon us at last!”

  *Quest Complete!*

  Congratulations! You finished the quest, A Scholar’s Duty: Read one of the Guildmasters’ Books. (Repeatable)

  Quest Rewards: +100 Guild XP

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  ALSO IN SERIES

  THE SHATTERED SWORD

  THE RUINED TEMPLE

  APPENDIX

  Character Status End of Book 2: Hana Kotoba

  Hana Kotoba: Level 28

  Class Rank: Pathfinder

  HP: 10753/10753

  Armor Rating 360

  Vitality 36 (+3)

  Strength 19 (+8)

  Dexterity 32 (+40, +10% total)

  Intelligence 19 (+8)

  Stamina 25 (+21)

  Character Status End of Book 2: Madi Mendoza

  Madi Mendoza: Level 30

  Class Rank: Barbarian

  HP: 23050/23050

  Armor Rating 525

  Vitality 40 (+7)

  Strength 34 (+48)

  Dexterity 22 (+8)

  Intelligence 16 (+3)

  Stamina 28 (+38)

  Skill Progression Sheet: Hana Kotoba

  Class Skills:

  Naturalist - Survivalist

  1Vital Aim (Active): Critical Hit chance increased by 75%, Critical Hit Damage increased by 50%. Charge time- 10 seconds.

  Survivalist - Novice Hunter

  2Quick Draw
(Passive): 30% increased rate of fire (stackable with organic improvement from weapon skill level increases).

  Novice Hunter - Pathfinder

  3Ranger’s Reflex (Passive): All movement speed and reaction time during combat is increased by 15%.

  4Clarity of the Wild (Active): Calls upon the tranquility of living as one with the wilderness around you. Both player and companion gain +15% accuracy with attacks and +20% chance to land a critical blow. Duration: 2 minutes. Cooldown: 10 minutes.

  Level Skills:

  Level 10

  5Powered Strike (Active): Damage increased by 100% on a single attack. Only useable with sword and spear weapon types. 5% Stamina cost. 2 minute cooldown.

  Level 20

  6Edge Dancer (Active): flurry of strikes that can cut down a swath of enemies. Attack speed increased by 300%. Duration: 10 seconds. Cooldown: 10 minutes.

  Item Skills:

  Tsuba - Hand Guard of Katana Kotoba

  7Samurai’s Last Stand (Active): When activated, the user’s health regeneration increases by 400% and movement speed increases by 25%. Duration: 1 minute. Ability has a cooldown of 24 hours.

  Ito - Braid of Katana Kotoba

  8Grip of the Elders (Passive): When affixed to the Katana Kotoba, prevents the weapon from slipping free of the user’s grip. Trait only fails when user is unconscious. All slashing damage with weapon increased by 20%.