Isr Kale's Journal (The Alchemist Book #4): LitRPG Series

by Vasily Mahanenko

  Tailyn wanted to yell at her for making a mistake, but he didn’t. Over the last few years, he’d grown to trust his betrothed completely. They were stronger together, and if the other half of his unification said he needed to change his attack type, then that was what he was going to do. Nodding, the boy closed his eyes and pulled his arm out of the elemental. The icy element ran off immediately, not having expected so much energy to be drained from it.

  “It’s going to hurt. Hang in there, sweetie,” the girl said as she raised her arms to the heavens. The sky immediately darkened as a column of pure energy hit one palm to reflect off the other, through Tailyn, and into reality. Stripped of his defenses, the boy was meanwhile being turned into a chunk of roast meat. He’d stopped screaming a few moments before when his vocal cords were fried. The flesh on his arms was gone. Blinking for the last time, Vargot was able to help Tailyn drink a complete regeneration potion before turning off. With his connection to the outside world gone, the boy could only moan to himself as he watched his fate approach.

  But that was followed by an explosion that threw Tailyn against the wall and dropped him into sweet oblivion. Sticky was knocked out completely, unable to hold back the two elements. And the lightning the boy had created had swept right through the secretary’s body like a knife through butter. Every node in the ancient device’s body had been bathed in liquid nitrogen, including its security system, and the powerful charge of electricity had short-circuited just about every one of them. Like some kind of ancient grenade, the provost’s personal secretary detonated as the energy exploded out of her. That was what had finally broken through sticky.

  Tailyn only opened his eyes three hours later. His arms and legs were gone at the elbows and knees, and he was going to need another five hours to regenerate everything he’d lost. Impressively, Vargot was back up and running. Focusing with an effort, the boy checked the time and cursed when he realized the provost should have already arrived where his prisoner had been kept, which meant he was presumably hurrying back. The secretary was no longer there to return him, so he had to be going as fast as he could. Wheezing, Tailyn tried to pull himself up, though that didn’t work. Nothing hurt, regeneration turning the pain off first, but he still wasn’t able to move without the process finishing. Looking over, the boy noticed one of the secretary’s legs and realized his log icon was blinking to tell him about the results of the battle. He’d won. Figuring he couldn’t do anything else, he got to reading.

  You destroyed a non-level creature.

  Level +3 (92).

  All your attributes and skills were increased by 5.

  Named item level +1 (14).

  ***

  The provost named you a threat.

  Missions generated for the destruction of player Tailyn Vlashich.

  Chuckling sadly, Tailyn dropped his free parameter points into Frankenstein the way he usually did, getting it up to level fifty-six. Pushing it to a hundred was going to let him hand out triple immunity. What the boy really wanted was for one of them to be heat, as that had been a nightmare he didn’t think he could survive again. But it was interesting that the provost had gone after him. He apparently had the same power and privilege as the emperor, and he even had his own destroyer, a death machine in the form of a beautiful woman. How could someone even that serious command that kind of force? Tailyn needed to get back and ask the reptiloid. Presumably, the trick with sticky wasn’t going to work with the provost, if only because it was on cooldown for another twenty-four hours.

  The lift doors began banging against the investigator’s body as a horde of guards and teachers tried to follow instructions. Forced to keep moving, Tailyn activated Vargot’s wings and flew up into the air. His body flopped upside-down, though that actually made it much easier for him to move around, correcting the height and pushing off with his arms. Soon enough, he was over by the secretary and finding out that he wasn’t going to be getting any loot. But that was fine—he didn’t really want any, regardless. Turning, he headed off in the direction of the provost’s office. Getting in turned out to be fairly easy, as all he had to do was fly a little higher and use the stubs of his arms to turn the doorknob. The academy’s holy of holies was open. The provost’s personal office.

  Checking security system...

  Error! System not set up...

  Error! Access level not identified...

  Error...

  Messages began piling up in front of the boy. Stripped of something important, the ancient artifacts weren’t able to do their job, and Tailyn took the time to read through every line. The last thing he needed was to miss something because of his own laziness.

  Nothing had changed in the office since his last visit. Smooth metal and glass surrounded him, and Tailyn looked around from his upside-down position as he decided where to start his looting. He’d been figuring his perception would kick in to tell him where Isr Kale’s journal was. Sadly, nothing blinked, and no arrows popped up. That just left one thing to do. Pulling himself over to the bookshelf on the right, the boy flew up to the correct height and touched the first book.

  New mission: Book Analysis. Description: study as many books in the provost’s office as you can to see if they’re unique. If they are, deliver them to the academy library or the branch in Mean Truk (must be built). Deadline: 6 months from the moment the book is received.

  Even the god didn’t think Tailyn could swipe the whole collection, and that served just to enrage the boy. He decided to do his best and started running his hands along shelf after shelf. One book. Two. Ten. Thirty... Ultimately, fifty-seven ancient artifacts found a new home in the boy’s practically limitless inventory. His gaze then fell on the provost’s desk, and a smile spread across his face. That was where everything truly unique was going to be. At a minimum, there was an intriguing round map in the shape of a ball. The description told him it was a “globe,” but that didn’t mean much to the boy. A ball, a globe. What was the difference? Forian would sort it out later.

  Tailyn eyed the huge chair and realized he wanted it to—it was practically a throne, only bigger and better. While he didn’t take the time to read about it in the moment, he was sure grabbing it would be a move he’d appreciate many times over in the future. He tossed it into the inventory and right then noticed the huge box on the table. Its width shocked the imagination, covering half the desk. The boy bit into the handle and wiggled around with the remains of his arms, his efforts finally rewarded with a click as new error messages flooded his field of vision. Staying true to his individual plan, he read through each one and suddenly froze, terrified to ruin the glory of the moment with his breathing. One of the messages was critical:

  Mission update: Ancient History. Description: you discovered Isr Kale’s journal. Read it to find the key to the messages in Lavr Nalin’s journal.

  Flipping over and flying a tad higher, Tailyn saw the huge book. No, not huge; it was giant. Bigger than anything he’d ever seen, it took up the whole box. The boy’s perception told him it was ninety by a hundred and twenty centimeters, though he couldn’t see how thick it was. Could Isr Kale really have walked around with that monster? The ancients never ceased to amaze. Breathlessly, Tailyn laid what would eventually be a hand on the cover to drop it into his inventory only to find himself staring at a confusing message:

  You can’t place an active journal in your inventory.

  The confusion didn’t last long. Deciding the provost had somehow attached the journal to the table, Tailyn decided to open it and start reading. The most important part was to move through the mission. Grabbing the cover with his stumps, the boy turned it over and grunted in surprise—a shelf slid out of the side of the box for the cover to lie on. Apparently, the provost spent quite a bit of time studying the work of the ancients seeing as how he’d come up with such a convenient little mechanism. Tailyn started reading the first page only to have his surprise heightened still further. There were dozens of smaller pieces of paper stuck to
the page, all of them covered in beautiful handwriting. Only the heading explained why the ancient had done it like that:

  This journal belongs to Isr Kale, former teacher of computer science. If you’re reading these entries without permission, immediately close the book, otherwise I cannot answer for my actions. To make things easier, I combined all my journals into a single systematized version that automatically increases its capacity. All new entries will be added using the form on the left and added immediately to the end. July 20, year 45 after the exodus.

  Tailyn looked over at the next page to see the field used for adding new entries. That made it easy, meaning you didn’t have to turn to the last page. Unfortunately, the boy didn’t see a search function, so he began reading the entries one after another. He only hoped the one he was looking for wasn’t closer to the end.

  Entry 1. March 3. Writing the year is probably pointless. What’s happening now completely puts an end to the past. The present is all that’s left, a present with nothing but us and the monsters born out of us. It’s horrifying to admit, but today I had to kill my wife. At least, what she turned into. I killed her with something like a crossbow, my reward for participating in the game’s prerelease. All around, there’s nothing but shouting, howls, and cries for help. Terrifying monsters are in the streets. There’s no electricity. No water. The troops are nowhere to be seen. I don’t know what to do besides hide in a closet and hope this is all a dream I’m going to wake up from soon. The body of the creature that used to be my wife is lying in the next room. How am I supposed to go on living? Should I just jump head-first off the roof? Be done with it all?

  Entry 2. March 4. I’m a mage. No, don’t say I’m crazy. It’s true. Two of the changed broke into my apartment, and I took them out with lightning. It popped right out of my palm! All I have to do is think about attacking, and it hits the target on its own. Once I got up the nerve, I went outside, took out a few dozen of the animals, saved three other poor bastards just like me. They don’t have magic for whatever reason. Strange.

  …

  Entry 30. I forget how many days went by without an entry. Nothing interesting has been happening. I’m tired of the aliens—they’re everywhere. My squad took up a strong position, so we’re fighting them off. I met Mark Derwin, too. He’s an alien, as well, only human, and he says our planet is called Earth 2. He’s from Earth 1. Weird guy. Strong, though. If it weren’t for him, most of the people in the city would be dead.

  …

  Entry 198. We’re counterattacking. The mages have lost their minds—they decided to destroy the planet just to make sure the Owner doesn’t get what he’s looking for. Mark is fighting tooth and nail since the aliens won’t get back into the game if the planet is lost. But there’s nothing we can do since captivity sapped his strength. He isn’t as powerful as he was at the beginning.

  …

  Entry 431. We did it! We were able to steal the dragon’s blood right out from under the nose of the release Owner. Almost all of Tsarter died, and Villian just about killed Mark for that, blaming him for it, but Lavr Nalin got out alive! The mages are counterattacking, and we’re losing city after city. Who knew humans themselves would be worse than the changed and the aliens?

  Entry 432. I don’t know where Lavr hid the container. According to our information, he'll record the coordinates in a notebook and try to pass it off to one of the soldiers. He’s presumably using a code to make sure the mages can’t get their treasure back. To anyone reading this: the key is TheHouseJackBuiltDamnIt. I’m not sure what that means, but Mark says nobody left alive would ever randomly enter it. Hopefully, this will work...

  Mission update: Ancient History. Description: 139 new updates received.

  You received +3 to a random skill.

  Crystal miner +3 (44).

  ***

  Mission update: Search for Coordinates. Description: you got the key to the recordings in Lavr Nalin’s notebook. Decoding the recordings... Recordings decoded. Read the notebook and find out where the hiding place with the container of dragon’s blood is.

  But Tailyn didn’t have time to enjoy the progress he’d just made.

  “Tailyn Vlashich... I’m not even sure if I should be happy or upset.”

  The voice was coming from above him, and Tailyn had to turn to see who it was. The office had a second level with a closed door Raptor couldn’t penetrate, and it had opened to release its owner. Looking disheveled and dirty, with mud streaked across his face as though he'd just pulled himself out of a puddle, the provost had caught the boy red-handed.

  A dart buried itself in Tailyn’s body, and his muscles convulsed. Already hard at work, the boy’s regeneration took one exhausted look at the new attack and announced it was going to take twenty-four hours to get the toxins out of his system. Even regrowing limbs had never taken that long. Tailyn’s body no longer belonged to him, though he was still conscious, breathing, and, most importantly, listening thanks to the odd plan of whoever had come up with the poison. The provost took off into the air and eased his way down to the lower level. Unlike Tailyn, he was able to fly horizontally as well as vertically.

  “Why the chair?” he asked, puzzled, though that was when he saw the open box. His eyes narrowed into two carnivorous slits. “So, that’s it... And what did you need my journal for?”

  Tailyn couldn’t answer—the toxin was blocking that function. Still, he was able to talk, just not with the provost.

  Valia, I’m in trouble. Big trouble.

  Do you need an element?

  No, that won’t help. The provost blocked me with a toxin.

  “You know, Tailyn, I really believed in you,” the provost said as he leaned against the desk. “I thought Mark Derwin might have found a haven off in oblivion, might have gotten the Game to give him a second chance. You’re a lot like him. Hacking, device control, concealment... Without even knowing it, you’ve been following the path of the absorber, only he had mimicry and Fang. You’re an exact copy otherwise. You even found the reptiloid! I’ll admit, that was a great move cutting off access to the portal and making me run around like in the good old days.”

  Tailyn, sweetie, don’t die. Do something, just don’t die!

  But I can’t do anything! I can’t even move!

  Think. There has to be something! It can’t be like this. You always find a way!

  “I wanted to develop you. Give you power. Turn you into my own Mark, maybe even get the second continent back—Villian made a stupid move setting the Black Slime loose. You could have corrected his mistake, only you turned out too unmanageable. Just like Derwin. The only difference there is that you’re dumber, more naïve, pettier. You know, the next time the system brings you back, I’m going to have to grab you right away and raise you the way I want. That was my mistake... But what did you need my journal for? You know the tears of Alron recipe isn’t in there. What were you looking for?”

  The red-headed man looked down at the open page before glancing back at Tailyn.

  “Just don’t tell me you found Lavr’s notebook... You’re kidding! By the god, Tailyn, I was going to let you live. It would have been interesting to watch you advance, become a thorn in the emperor’s side, try to beat me. But I can’t let you find the dragon’s blood. And that means I’m going to have to destroy you, even make sure you can’t come back. You probably have a plan with concentrated noa, right? That’s exactly what Mark would have done.”

  Tailyn’s stomach sank when he realized what the provost was getting at. A fearsome torture device appeared in the latter’s hands, and the boy’s consciousness began to flicker in panic. Only Valia, dear Valia, was there in virtual reality to hold her second half by the hand as she begged him not to die, begged him to think of something.

  The device touched his body, and Tailyn felt an incredible pain shoot through him. The provost knew what he was doing—the boy had to lose his mind in order for the game to not bring him back. And the best way was to use pain. The me
thod was tried and true.

  As his consciousness receded, Tailyn still felt the incredible pain through some feat of superhuman strength. He refused to fade away. Everything was turning red, and it was only that one ray of white light that kept his reason where it was. Valia. The twelve-year-old girl begging him not to die. Begging him to survive. Begging him to hold on.

  But why hold on? Nothing was keeping him there in the provost’s office. All that was left for him there was pain and horror, though there was happiness and affection waiting for him next to his beloved. It was better there. So why hold on? What a silly question that was...

  Tailyn took a step forward. It was away from the pain; it was toward the affection.

  The torture device swished around in empty space a few more times before stopping. Its victim had disappeared.

  Epilogue

  ISR KALE STARED for a long time at the spot where Tailyn Vlashich had just been. The thoughts in his head scrambled, and the man so used to strict rules had a hard time understanding how to react. The boy had managed to teleport without a card using nothing but strength of will. While that was supposed to never happen again, it just had, and he was at a loss. Magic had returned to the world.