Endless Online
Oblivion’s Crown
M H Johnson
Copyright © 2019 by M H Johnson
Cover art by Andrey Vasilchenko
Typography by Bonnie L. Price
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and events are the work of the author’s imagination and all locations are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
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
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Valor Hunter - Full Character Sheet
Thank You
Additional Links
Prologue
“Your Eminence, I apologize most sincerely for the lack of candidates. I did all I could within reason, I swear it!”
The giant of a man who had been gazing with rapt interest at a wall-to-wall digital display of Jordia overlaid with numerous red and blue hexes turned away from the massive monitor he had been viewing, stepping down from his throne of rubies and gold. He spared a single cool glance for the saluting Dominion troopers highlighted by the brilliant moon showing so clearly from the monitor behind them. Then he turned his attention to the man they had brought before him.
Collapsing to his knees before the approaching giant was none other than the elected administrator of Central America installed with the voluntary and not-so-voluntary removal of various presidents and dictators. The smart ones had grabbed golden retirements generously offered, heaping praise upon their new Overlord as they retreated to luxurious estates. The foolish ones had not been so fortunate, screaming silently in the pain vat the wide-eyed administrator was gazing at even now.
A grimly smiling Caesar gently put down the bubbling vat, allowing the terrified supplicant before him to see firsthand the fate that awaited all those who failed the head of Acquisitions and Retention of the Terran branch of Dominion Enterprises, as he was referred to by all his lawyers, Overlord by everyone else.
Caesar shook his head sadly, gazing down at the sobbing man before him.
“Please, Your Eminence. Please don’t kill me. I will get you more slaves, I swear it!”
Caesar held up a massive finger in gentle reproof. “Tut tut, Administrator Prieto. We do not refer to our grateful employees as slaves. They are valued assets working for the betterment of the Dominion. You understand that, don’t you, Alonzo?”
“Yes, yes, of course, Master Caesar! My deepest apologies. My deepest apologies!”
“Good. Now explain to me, Administrator Alonzo Prieto, why so few of your people have enrolled in testing? You did advertise the lucrative opportunities to be had upon acceptance, did you not? Free education, healthcare, housing, amnesty for all previous crimes committed, and what I am assured is an exceedingly generous wage. Five times the median income of Terrans living in your territory. You made sure to inform your citizens of these crucial advantages, yes?”
The shaking man jerked his head in frantic affirmation as tears of terror streamed down his cheeks. “Yes, Overlord Caesar, I did! I did all I could! But when news reports got out about what happened at the first testing centers...”
Caesar’s frown froze the man to instant stillness. “That unfortunate incident has been rectified. Pre-screening now weeds out the majority of those with insufficient potential. Now only those most likely to succeed will be given access to the test proper. Furthermore, all applicants are granted a full month’s wages just for showing up for what is only a moderately painful screening. With so much upside and so little downside, I fail to see why so few of the employees in your territory volunteer to be scanned for general suitability.”
“It’s because of the video, my lord! All the blood, all that screaming! The newsrooms refuse to stop showing it, saying that even those who can survive the jump to Jordia risk death just by playing the game!”
Caesar nodded. “Then why didn’t you eliminate the station owners?”
“My lord?”
“There are any number of methods you could have used, Administrator Prieto. Why, all you have to do is look at North American television to find news anchors bending over backwards to explain the elaborate hoax in such detail, even I have to give them credit for their mastery over their chosen medium. In Russia and China both, the unfortunate footage was attributed to known terrorist organizations, which served to further alienate my employees from the inevitable resistance movements all acquisitions suffer.”
The giant gave a satisfied nod. “The administrators of those territories handled the problem before them masterfully, actually helping to drum up registration with multiple new campaign initiatives. And much to my pleasure, the heads of any news anchors or studio owners who were found guilty of sedition were personally delivered to me. A thoughtful touch for which select administrators were amply rewarded.”
Caesar smiled into the doomed man’s eyes. “There, there, Alonzo. I think I understand the problem we’re having. Perhaps my requests were simply more than you could handle, no?”
The administrator trembled as Caesar’s chillingly benign smile grew. “I’m surprised by how little you yearn for greatness. A man who truly aspired to achieve stratospheric heights upon the stage you dared to enter would have let nothing hold him back from achieving his dreams.”
“My lord...”
“I can forgive many things, Alonzo, but failure is not one of them.”
Alonzo's eyes widened with horror as Caesar almost tenderly wrapped his hands around the man’s neck. “Please, Emperor Caesar, I can make this right, I swear it! I will have my police escort every...” His words were cut off with a horrific gurgle as Caesar's benign features distorted with sudden rage, giant fingers crushing and squeezing the neck of the suddenly frantically struggling man.
And Caesar’s fine white suit was splattered with crimson as he tore open the man’s throat, coolly noting the frantic bulging eyes as he continued to rip off pieces of flesh and muscle, tearing Alonzo’s head clean off in a shower of blood by the power of his terrible hands alone.
Caesar smiled into the dying gaze of his failed pawn. “Motivation, dear Alonzo. Motivation is everything.” Then an off-handed toss and a splash as his
former administrator’s head sunk into the pain vat, desperately rolling eyes and ruptured throat mirroring a dozen other humans who had also failed their newest master. Caesar spent a long moment gazing fondly at his collection before turning to face the half-dozen Terrans staring at him with looks ranging from supreme confidence to sheer horror.
“And that is the fate you can expect, should any of you fail me twice. Those of you unwilling to embrace true greatness, knowing the perils of power, may leave now. The rest of you, step forward and swear to serve. Then we’ll see if you truly have what it takes to aspire to glory and the rewards therein.”
At which point a dozen strikingly beautiful young women of all different nationalities wearing only the sheerest of silks entered Caesar’s throne room, each and every one of them bowing gracefully before their Overlord, not a one gazing at the sight of horror that had captivated the stares of each of the six supplicants.
Three of the supplicants immediately switched their attention to the voluptuous ladies sauntering towards them. The remaining trio couldn’t take their eyes off that vat of horrors at Caesar's feet. They exchanged panicked glances, then prostrated themselves before Caesar.
“Overlord Caesar, are we truly permitted to leave unharmed?” asked one desperate supplicant, the men beside him nodding as well. "Only with your permission, Emperor Caesar. Of course, we'll do whatever you want us to."
The giant said nothing, merely nodded at the troopers still present, who led off the relieved-looking supplicants even as the three remaining swore to serve Caesar for all the days of their lives, eyeing the scantily clad girls hungrily.
“Well chosen, supplicants. The three of you will each be assigned a territory within Alonzo Prieto’s former demesne. The wisest among you would do well to learn from those who have come before you, even as you enjoy the fruits of your labors.”
And with a wave the twelve girls were fawning over the three newly risen administrators, whispering words of praise and enticement into their ears, inviting grasping hands to savor and caress sweet secrets as the smiling girls adorned the men with gold and jewels before they were gently turned around to gaze out the virtual porthole behind them, all three of them abruptly lurching back at the sight of their erstwhile companions, recently escorted out of the chamber, now violently decompressing in space.
The formerly sensual grips of their hostesses locked tightly about the men like iron, forcing them to watch until the corpses twitched no further.
“Remember the price of failure, gentlemen. No matter our circumstances, it is our choices, past and present, that lead us all to where we are at this moment. And if you wish a better fate than the nameless fools you see before you, then success must be the only goal you strive for. Anything that stays your hand, anything that prevents you from clenching tight to your dreams, can only end in disappointment.”
Caesar flashed a brilliant smile. “Now, welcome to your new positions! I wish you all many fruitful years working for the betterment of our Dominion.”
The three survivors managed shaky bows before their once more laughing and jovial escorts led them off down the corridor to smiling officials apparently waiting for them.
Overlord Caesar flashed an almost fatherly smile at his newest managerial hires before turning his focus back to the giant monitor displaying a tactical map of Jordia.
His intent gaze lingered over all the pieces he sensed on the board, a massive hand reaching for a goblet instantly placed in his palm once it was delicately wiped free of blood by a young woman wearing only jewels and a look of adoration for her master.
Caesar took a sip and frowned.
“The pattern has changed, Falid. A new player has entered the arena, unlike any before.”
"Correct," said a man dressed in a bland uniform with washed-out gray eyes and dull brown hair. He was so unremarkable he seemed to blend into the background entirely, no more worthy of notice than an extra on a movie set, and not a single guest had made note of his presence even as he bore silent witness to it all.
“The newest contender was formally recognized by a Justicar visiting from the central hub. He actually dares to walk the Path of Kings.”
Caesar raised a bemused eyebrow, seated upon his throne once more. “Ancient Jordian rites invoking mystical powers to further aid a rightful king’s rule. So our newest contender is using history and religion to better facilitate and manipulate his conquests. I had not expected such tactics to work in this day and age, but this is Jordia, after all.”
Falid flashed a grim smile. “He has managed four conquests in less than a week, Your Eminence. And if witness accounts are to be believed, mystic rites outside the scope of psionics were in play. He even managed to take out one of Kentric’s puppets.”
Caesar smiled. “An intriguing development.”
“And that is not all, Your Eminence. The newest contender is rumored to be a Terran who walks the Path of Shadow, of all things.”
Caesar’s eyes blazed with sudden heat. “Are you saying one of my acquisitions, a Terran monkey, dares presume himself worthy of the mantle of Overlord?”
Falid immediately dipped into a deferential bow. “It would seem so, Your Eminence.”
Earth’s Overlord glared at the monitor. “Find out who this Terran is, and bring him before me at once.” He frowned as the man before him stood absolutely still. “Speak.”
“His name is Valor Hunter, my lord. As to his location, my men are working on that as we speak.”
Caesar’s brow furrowed. “Valor Hunter. That name sounds familiar… the anomaly forcing the closure of the original Chicago site!” A golden armrest creaked with the pressure of a tightly clenched hand. “And now he dares Jordia’s throne. There is a method to his madness. There has to be!”
“I am sure you are correct, my lord. I shall inform my men to put all available resources towards his apprehension.”
“You will do no such thing, Falid. Do you not yet see? You have yet to find him because he is no longer here! He must have gained access to a portal.”
Falid blinked. “That could work, sir. Though we’ve had no reports of...”
“Do you not recall your own words? Of course your Terran agents wouldn’t spot him. He walks the Path of Shadow!” Caesar glared at the man bowing before him. “Well, Falid? It’s been centuries. Are the Dauda finally hungry for a place at the table? Are they using this boy for their own ends?”
Falid slowly shook his head, finally daring to meet his master’s eyes. “No, Overlord Caesar. No Dauda branch would dare get involved in the Rite of Ascension, save fulfilling assigned contracts. None of us are so foolish as to risk the peace that's kept our clan in good standing throughout the Dominion."
Caesar smiled, the awful tension behind his gaze instantly fading. "And you do not hide from my gaze as you say it. Good. I assume you already know what you have to do now."
The shorter man dipped his head. “I shall instruct my men to dig up everything there is to know about Valor Hunter, his friends, his family. With no limitations to information networks within this realm, we will soon know him better than he knows himself.”
Caesar nodded. “Prepare agents you trust. We’ll get to the bottom of this on Jordia as well.”
Falid solemnly bowed before pivoting on his back foot and hurrying out of the chamber as fast as decorum allowed.
The giant spent long moments studying the display before saluting the screen with his cup. “I expect an entertaining game, Valor Hunter. You won’t be permitted to win, of course, but I am interested in seeing just how far you can go."
1
The hours passed as Val and Julia rode through the night, the ancient dwarven bike levitating effortlessly above endless miles of road and grasslands as they approached the territory once ruled by Tiberius, the latest in a string of Highlords Val had somehow managed to cut down since he had first jumped from Earth to Jordia, only heartbeats before Julia's home had exploded behind them. And from the moment they h
ad arrived, it had been open season as multiple Highlords sought to wipe out Christine Highblood and her entire clan.
Forced to dodge traps, intrigue, and attempted murder, Val had quickly realized that all hope of living a peaceful life on Jordia was a fool’s delusion, and there were only three ways this situation could end. He could choose the fool's path and ignore the growing threat until intrigue or assassins eventually murdered him. He could embrace the coward's path and simply flee into obscurity, knowing that everyone he loved would be made examples of by the cruel mechanisms of a corrupt High Council. Or he could be the most ruthless bastard his enemies had ever faced, butcher everyone in his path, and claim the Crown of Jordia for himself.
And that was just the beginning.
Val smiled grimly as he took deep breaths of the cool night air, alive with the scents of forest and field. He had made his choice, so much blood on his hands this night alone, working tirelessly to help turn the tide of a battle that had almost spelled the end for him and his friends, not to mention the thousands of men already counting on him.
And now he had no choice but to take the initiative, racing at full speed for his enemy’s territory, knowing that if he couldn’t somehow manage to cut down Tiberius’s siblings, then the dying curse that contender had put on Val would be the death of him. Even now, dreams of an imaginary bounty clawed at the weak corners of all men’s hearts, such that any man who could clearly see his face would be struck with the overwhelming desire to kill him.
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