Viridian Gate Online: Schism: A litRPG Adventure (The Heartfire Healer Series Book 2)

by E. C. Godhand

  Keres stumbled, stunned, but Absolution cleared her. She charged back at him, chakrams aimed for the weak, open space under his arm as he raised his hammer again, but it was a fake out. He made her waste a cooldown. He followed up with a left hook, breaking the broken potion flask in his bloodied hand over the side of her head.

  Bri’jit turned her attention to healing her partner with her long healing spell, Benevolence. I cast a shield on Keres to protect her in the meantime, and Gunder took over tanking Mohawk.

  I turned my attention to the archer, Braid, and the young elf woman. She hacked at him with her sword as he used his good arm to deflect the blows. I had to protect the young boy, but it made it hard to cast spells if I had to hold on to him. I directed him to grab my belt and kept my book open.

  “Little sister, come here,” I called to the woman. Bloodlust had overcome her, fueled by the adrenaline of making sure you beat the man’s head against concrete until the screaming stops, and she didn’t hear me.

  Bri’jit was focused on her spell. I was focused on the children. We both assumed Gunder and Keres had the situation under control. I didn’t see Shaved slip into stealth, but I felt the boy tug at my belt. I covered him with my arms without a second thought, just in time to feel the rogue’s knife slip into my kidney. My Health plummeted and blinked an angry red.

  I barely felt the pain. I was in shock. I felt the boy pull at my robes and shake me, but I refused to uncoil from around him. I braced my book against his back to hold the page open to read off the shield spell on him. If I had thought about it, I might’ve shielded myself and cast more healing spells. But I didn’t have the time. All I knew was that I could respawn, in theory, and maybe it would’ve failed all my quests and ruined my plans, but I could recover eventually.

  The child would not. He had one life, and I was going to protect it with my own. That was the only thought that crossed my mind as the glowing bubble enveloped him under my arms. I braced myself for subsequent blows, but none ever came.

  Instead, a wave of healing light, effervescent and soothing, patched my back. I watched my Health bar quickly climb back to 100%. My breath caught in my chest a little. Not even I had spells that strong. Was this Benevolence? My Divinity meter wasn’t filled. It didn’t come from me.

  Shaved kept whaling away, but his knives were useless and didn’t penetrate a hardened shield of light around me. I looked back to the boy, who was still glowing from my shield. I couldn’t move my feet, and neither could the child, but my hand would still light up if I focused on it.

  Keres lowered her hand, out of breath from casting the protective shield on me. She looked near to collapse and was completely out of Spirit. Bri’jit supported her and followed up with a blessing that boosted Spirit and spell power by 25% for two minutes. That’d mean more healing for me, more damage for the Sunsetters, and more mana for everyone.

  Gunder was fully lost in his berserk. His axe struck Shaved’s shoulder, breaking the bones so he couldn’t wield the knife with that hand. He grabbed Mohawk by his hair and slammed his head into the nearest tree. Keres joined him with what mana she regained from Bri’jit’s spell.

  Bri’jit gently pulled the young elf woman off Braid. She held her for a second, then grabbed the archer and tied him up with vines. Shaved and Mohawk surrendered as well, holding out their hands and pleading for mercy on their knees.

  I shielded the Murk Elves. Keres and Gunder kept up their attacks, visibly confused. I patted the boy on his head and cast Veracity on myself to dispel the shield Keres had cast and called out to them.

  “They surrendered, so give it up!”

  Keres paused her attacks. She held out a hand to stop Gunder, who took a second to recollect himself.

  “In the name of the Inquisition of the Ever-Victorious Viridian Empire,” I called out, catching my breath and holding the boy child against my leg, “I place these three men under arrest.”

  Keres and Gunder shot me a glare, but obediently tied up the final two Murk Elves. Bri’jit and the young woman dragged the archer to join his friends. I healed them just enough to keep them from dying, and crossed my arms, appraising the bound and glowering Dokkalfar.

  Something was off. For one, Keres had mentioned they were out of place, just like the kobolds, and weren’t wearing their masks. That lent doubt to their allegiance, of being Rebellion, no matter what colors they wore. My Merchant-Craft whispered to me that their armor was too shiny, too new. They were too well outfitted with higher-level gear for woodland bandits literally shaking down children for apples and loose coins and hunters for game they hadn’t yet caught. Acuity told me their Unwashed debuff was minimal. Hardly expected for someone from the swamps who lived off the land.

  “You will be handed over to the Inquisition for trial,” I told them, sending a message to the Commissar and praying I had any authority to speak.

  Mohawk laughed at my indictment. “Give Cecilia our regards.”

  My group exchanged looks. We couldn’t tell if that was a threat or an appeal. I got a response from the Commissar almost immediately.

  <<<>>>

  Personal Message

  Disciple Chen,

  It seems again I owe you my thanks. The Rebellion have been terrorizing our citizens, and the public would be appalled to learn they have resorted to harming children for petty coin. I will immediately send an Envoy along with my Jailers to apprehend these bandits. They will have an audience with a Receiver, who will find out what they aren’t telling us.

  I am forwarding along another promissory note to show my gratitude.

  Again, though you have done a service to the Empire, I remind you to avoid unnecessary tasks and focus on the one assigned to you. The rebellion is not your fight.

  Signed,

  Commissar Cecilia, Imperial Inquisition

  <<<>>>

  I pulled up the promissory note. Five gold seemed like a lot of money, and no hidden quest popped up as completed. My gut twisted and whispered this was hush money as I updated the team that we had to wait. None of them liked it, and they sent me messages to that effect, but didn’t verbalize it in front of the Murk Elves.

  The children clung to Keres and Bri’jit, who reassured them in our tongue. Keres wiped away the young woman’s battle tears with her thumb, praised her bravery, and said one day, she should apply for the Sunsetter test. Bri’jit coaxed the boy into helping her gather wood for a fire. We made camp, making sure to gag our prisoners and tie them extra tight to the tree. Gunder shared some Boar Meat with me to roast over the fire while he watched the prisoners.

  I rubbed the meat with salt and herbs and sauteed some onions and mushrooms in a cast iron skillet Gunder had in his inventory. The meat required a higher skill than I had to cook easily. The red section of the timing meter was larger, and the steaks that I burned I offered to our prisoners. No need to waste good meat. After some practice, I managed to at least flip the meat in the narrow yellow or green sections of the meter. The onions sizzled away. I learned to listen for them at their different stages. The steam escaping had more of a hiss, and as the moisture sizzled out, it became more of a soft crackle.

  My stomach groaned in anticipation of sweet, greasy BBQ. If only we had some potatoes to throw on the coals.

  I sat by the campfire, weary, and fell back on the grass.

  Back in Manhattan, I’d go to the park and lay on the grass when I got overwhelmed. I’d watch the clouds, just like now. It reminded me the world still turned. For a moment, I needed to let the world move without me.

  But there was no rest for me. Not when there were bellies to fill. I flipped the boar meat again and spread a glaze of the rowanberry sauce on it. Keres and Bri’jit were consoled by my reminder that hunger and thirst kept them from doing their best, and likely we would need their best when we finally finished this ridiculous pilgrimage. Besides, I had argued, weren’t the children this far from the city because they were hungry?

  They didn’t bother me after
that. Though with the sun starting to set low in the sky, we didn’t have much longer.

  I checked my notifications. I had disabled them during combat. I had leveled up again from all the fighting over the afternoon to level 12.

  <<<>>>

  x1 Level Up!

  You have (5) undistributed stat points

  You have (1) unassigned proficiency point

  <<<>>>

  Keres was right. I was too weak. I had no Stamina. I had been lucky with Kismet as my tank so far, but I wouldn’t always be able to depend on that. And if I had to run away to save my own life, I’d just die tired. I put three points into Constitution and two into Spirit.

  The Cooking skill tree called to me, but I ignored it to look over my priest tree again. If I only had a day left of being a priest, I wanted to experience as much of it as I could. The café could wait. I couldn’t, in good faith, give up on the chance to help someone today if I could. I’d have to level up more and earn more points back. It wouldn’t be a problem. I was a Dawn Elf. And we lived a very long time, as Keres said. But even if we didn’t, I was also a Traveler. Unless I ran afoul of one of those cursed knives, I was essentially immortal. I had all the time in the world. Even if it was just completing foraging quests, I’d reinvent myself as many times as needed. I had already done it once before after I died on Earth.

  I glanced at Ubiquity again.

  <<<>>>

  Skill: Ubiquity

  You are saved from death by divine intervention. Do not disappoint them again.

  Skill Type/Level: Spell/Initiate

  Cost: 15 Spirit

  Range: 40 Meters

  Cast Time: Instant

  Cooldown: 300 seconds

  Effect: When an attack drops your Health below 1 Hit Point, you are enveloped in a shield that renders you immune to further damage for 10 seconds. If you are not healed to full before the timer runs out...

  <<<>>>

  I let out a whistle. Well alright. Given what just happened, that sounded like exactly what I needed. I wouldn’t always have Keres’ magic shield to protect me, and second chances to disappoint God seemed to be the theme of the day.

  I heard the crackling of the boar’s fat as it went from perfectly seared and caramelized from the berry sauce to black charcoal. I pulled the sticks off the fire, wincing at the heat, and handed them out to the group, making sure the children ate first. We tore in voraciously, savoring each greasy bite. Arguments regarding our urgency and how far away the Inquisition Envoys were ceased when food came on the table.

  I licked every bit of sauce off the stick when I was finished.

  “How is it?” I asked, knowing damn well the answer was “amazing, as always.” Sure enough, they said it was pretty good.

  “Lass, if you ever decide to give up the habit, think of going into the culinary arts, would ya?” said Gunder. “I’d pay good money for some buffs from the food, though.”

  Bri’jit must’ve seen my face. I kept up the forced smile and held back my tears with wide eyes as she rubbed my back.

  I buried my face in my hands. “If the food is always guaranteed to be good in V.G.O., there isn’t much joy in the praise,” I lamented.

  Keres picked at her teeth with the stick, half listening, and rested her cheek on her fist. “If they complain just tell them it’s their last supper.”

  Finally, after much too long, an Envoy of the Inquisition showed. He took statements from each of us, being especially kind to the children, and left with the prisoners through a portal scroll. I swore I saw Mohawk smile. The Envoy was much too kind to them as well.

  Mercy wasn’t a virtue I expected the Inquisition to have.

  Keres entrusted Gunder with escorting the children back to Ascomere, and Bri’jit gave him one of the butterfly pins in her hair as a token of trust. We buried the fire and all heaved a collective sigh.

  “Are you done with your little praise breaks yet?” asked Keres.

  Immortelle

  Fall in the Tanglewood was a sight to behold. When we weren’t investigating bandits, at least. Clean, crisp air refreshed my lungs from the campfire smoke. The turning leaves, brilliant in their fiery hues, gave a warmth to the chill in the wind. Even with the reminder that all things do eventually end, there was still beauty.

  A crunchy leaf blew across the trail. Like a cat spotting its prey, I pounced on it with a hop. It didn’t crunch. My disappointment was immeasurable, and my day was ruined.

  Bri’jit broke the silence with a sigh and a smile. “Liset, that miracle you cast back there with the boars? That was pretty cool.”

  I nodded. It was. I was sure what exactly I’d pulled off would sink in later, because hell if I knew right now

  Keres saw a moment to broker peace between us and joined in. “Cleansing the forest itself, you must pray to Gaia a lot.”

  “Does ‘Dear Gaia, I’d kill a man for a drink’ count?” I asked over my shoulder, having found another leaf and giving it another go.

  “No,” said Keres. “I’d say not.”

  “What about ‘Good Gaia, would you shut up?’ or ‘Holy Mother, is it raining again?’”

  “Perhaps you could be a bit more devout,” observed Keres dryly.

  This leaf, too, didn’t crunch. I groaned aloud. I had more Stamina to handle the long walk, but I still wanted to be done. I had no means to share the promissory note from the Inquisition with my companions for their assistance in my side quests, but they reassured me we’d figure it out later. After sending the children back with food and a double-pinkie promise from them to never, ever, ever sneak out alone again, the two Sunsetters had softened their stance on side quests. To be fully honest, while I hadn’t intended on making us late to stop the dungeon, and while I recognized empirically how important that quest was over the metaphorical lost lambs that had strayed from the straight path...

  Part of me didn’t want to be done. That meant I was closer to losing my priesthood. A sad fact I couldn’t think of a way to change any more than I could stop the leaves from falling.

  I turned and walked backwards. “How much further?” I asked.

  A sudden wind caressed my back like icy fingers. I froze and shook the memory of the hospital’s morgue from my mind.

  “We’re here,” said Keres softly, pointing behind me.

  The forest thinned, and the dirt path opened to an expansive, manicured memorial garden. The lawn overgrew with lush grasses and cultivated gardens of red Sour Poppies, blue Forget-me-Nots, and white Laceflowers. Easily half the flowers were rotted from the blight, sad and drooping and yellowing from decay. A small bumblebee wobbled its way to the flowers and grew into a Zombee as the black pollen hit it.

  I cleansed the bee to avoid it giving away our position. I wasn’t getting stung again. Not after the literal knife went in my back.

  Golden bricks, bearing the names of the fallen, paved spiraling roads like branches of a tree to inlets where families could gather around smaller crystal shrines. The main path, which led directly to a stately white mausoleum with a glass dome covered in ivy, was lined with potted miniature sunflowers and sweet peas on staked trellises. Without that connection to the earth, they remained upright, their faces turned to us and the setting sun at our backs.

  Darkness waited beyond the Heroes’ Rest. And in that darkness, the ancestors shambled.

  My quests updated. I dismissed them and focused on the actual unliving zombies that circled the mausoleum in front of us like they couldn’t find their way in. Jaws dangled from cheekbones by a strip of sinew, rotting limbs the same. I could see bits of rib bone through torn clothing and armor.

  Others stood out for their oddity. One placed a candle on his head like the kobolds, another carried a door he’d stolen from who-knew-where. A third had a bucket on his head, and a fourth carried an ancient flag of the Dawn Elf Empire with a Tree of Life symbol, the roots as big as the canopy.

  “Are they okay?” I whispered to Bri’jit, crouching in stealth besi
de her in the bushes.

  “I’ve never seen them rise up myself. Perhaps there was a bit more um... difficulty in reorienting to the world of the living than originally anticipated,” she responded.

  “Well, the flowers are pretty at least.”

  Keres explained the sunflowers represented the longevity of the elves, while the sweet peas were for thoughtful parting. Legend had it that if a cleric were unable to appease the dead with rites, during the day, the flowers would keep them at bay. If we had gotten here before sunset, we would’ve been able to go in without issue. What she didn’t say was that someone, namely me, prevented that, and now our job was harder. But it was heavily implied.

  “How’re flowers supposed to help fight undead?” I asked.

  “Still not undead,” said Bri’jit.

  Keres touched Bri’jit’s hand to still her. “The sunflowers supposedly cleanse the ground of impurities. We had been in the process of moving them when—"

  “Can’t we fight them like we have been all afternoon?” I asked again, ignoring her.

  “It’s not so simple,” said Keres. “These were heroes, little sister. By the time a Dawn Elf dies, we’ve leveled up quite a bit. Even if they weren’t blighted, we’re outnumbered and outclassed.”

  I peered closer. They had no proper veins to corrupt, but Keres was right. The black blood that seeped through their teeth and open wounds had the distinct stench of Seth-Rog all over it. I couldn’t let myself get hit with that blight again. There were only three chances to survive it, as the fourth one put you into a solo-dungeon to literally fight for your life. I had used up two already, having been cleansed twice. A third hit would put me into last stage before the dungeon. A fourth—

  I wouldn’t let my soul or flesh be consumed by the Daemon Prince of Morsheim. Cian had offered me a choice to serve him, a choice Cian likely never had himself, but I’d rather quit it all and beg on the streets than allow myself to become an instrument of death in Thanatos’ name.