Neverstone: A LitRPG Adventure (The Mad Elf Book 1)

by Ned Caratacus

  Finally meeting Raphael on the cliffs, the helicopter's blades came to a halt after freely spinning for a good few minutes. The transport's door remained closed.

  “Ah, good, just the three of you,” said Raphael, half smiling. “The weapons have arrived. Wait here; I'll do the talking.”

  With that, Raphael made his way toward the helicopter. As soon as the pilot caught sight of Raphael's approach, the door quickly flung open.

  From the helicopter stepped—

  “Vogdammit no,” said Era under his breath.

  “You all right, Slasher?” asked Liv.

  Era caught sight of Liv and forced a chuckle. “Ah, it's nothin'.”

  Noah gently pinched Liv's wrist, a subtle gesture meaning “that was a lie.” They had come up with it for times when saying it outright would cause trouble.

  From the helicopter stepped a soldier in a green latex trench coat. In the front, all the medals choked away at its color, like a cupcake with too many sprinkles. A black and grey helmet covered his entire head. In his hand was a lead briefcase.

  “Never thought I'd see you with one of these, let alone three,” said the soldier, through a roaring vocal distorter. “Guess your balls finally dropped.”

  Era stared at the ground.

  Raphael rolled his eyes. “I'm beginning to think your royal etiquette seminar wasn't terribly effective, Twenty Three.”

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry for hurtin' your widdle fee-fees. So, who we huntin'? Is it Rosie season already? There's one right there, with the gimp leg—”

  “You are out of line, soldier.”

  “All right, all right! Quit your whinin' and take the boomsticks.” The soldier threw the briefcase into Raphael's chest, and Raphael struggled to lift it. “Those are class 9 experimental models with a new retractable stock, which means if I see any scratches, I'll carbon copy them on your face with a power drill. We square?”

  “Twenty Three, would this be a fitting time to remind you I could have you killed with a ten second phone call?”

  “You could, and you won't. Later!”

  He hopped back in, the engines started, and the bulky helicopter lurched off into the sky.

  Taking a deep breath, Raphael returned to the Chosen Three and plopped the briefcase on the ground. “Now, heroes, if I may—”

  “Get on with it,” said Era.

  Raphael froze. “Erasmus?”

  “Open the briefcase, give us the weapons. We ain't got all day.”

  “I was about to...”

  “Then do it.”

  “He's doing it. Chill,” said Liv.

  Era stared at the ground again, and cold beads of sweat built up on his forehead.

  Raphael punched in the ten digit code and flipped open the locks. Within the briefcase were three black, grey, and yellow sticks of painted metal, two feet in length, a bump stock on one end, and a focusing lens on the other that shimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

  “This,” said Raphael, “is the masterpiece of Koschei Munitions: the KM-115 Necrylic Ectolysis Caster, better known as—”

  “Medusa Gun,” said Era.

  “Very good! Someone's done their homework.”

  “Get on with it.”

  “Erasmus, I'll be frank: it's beginning to sicken me how eager you are to wield such an instrument of—”

  “Did I stutter, Raphael?”

  “What's your deal?” asked Liv. “You're all bitchy today for some reason.”

  Era took a long, trembling breath, glancing back and forth between his friends. The skin of his face, once dark tan, was more of a pale lavender. He took a quick glance at Noah, and with a manufactured smile, carefully chose his answer: “Sorry, bad dreams last night.”

  “If we could 'get on with it,' as it were,” said Raphael.

  With that, Era's face turned once more to the dirt. Liv looked him over. This isn't like him. Was it the helicopter? Maybe a helicopter stabbed him in a back alley. That's pretty metal.

  Raphael picked up one of the guns and continued: “If I have your word that you'll never use one of these on a human being, and you'll only aim for the target dead center, I can allow you each to use one to stop the Sol Invictus.”

  And now, a word from our sponsors.

  Hey there, boys 'n' girls! You got a second? It's just little ol' me, Gregor Koschei—King of Celsior, and CEO of everything with “Koschei” in its name. I'd like to take a minute to talk to you about a very serious topic: home invaders.

  Every minute of every hour, even in broad daylight, exactly several outta every lots of homes are gonna find themselves thoroughly a-burgled. Hey, there's a burglar behind you, right now! Ha ha, just joshin' ya.

  So, are you gonna let those crowbar-swingin' liberals have their sick way with your jewelry and your minifridge? Or are ya gonna FIGHT BACK?

  Introducing the KM-115, or as I call it, the “Medusa Gun.” This powerful carbine weighs only one and a half pounds, folds for easy storage, and transmutes organic matter into Necrylic on contact. That's right, it turns pinkos into plastic! One shot of this baby's Necrylic ectolysis beam, and you'll petrify those thievin' bastards in your backyard into those little grey soldier toys you get in a bag from the one G store—but lifesize! Whee dawgie!

  And what's more, the KM-115 pays for itself! Necrylic's grey gold these days. Once your home invaders are good and dead, take their bodies, and sell 'em back to Koschei Chemicals for a pretty penny. Or, melt 'em into pesticide! Winter blues got you down? Build a NecrIgloo™! Use 'em as modeling clay for the kiddies! “But King Gregor, Necrylic is toxic!” Use 'em as character-building exercises for the kiddies!

  This revolutionary piece of machinery doesn't just destroy burglars, but monsters, too, no matter the strength or the level, 100% satisfaction guaranteed, you'll get those experience points at a fraction of the effort! This is my promise to you as a Koschei: if your KM-115 somehow doesn't end something's life in one direct hit, just shoot us a call, and we'll have you killed. That's for snitchin', Charlie!

  The KM—115 can be yours, right now, for only [insufficient membership rating, payment plan information available with Level 4 Celsioran citizenship by subscription or higher]. Have your credit card ready and call the number on your screen!]

  But wait—call within the next five minutes, and I, King Gregor Koschei, will personally show up at your doorstep and assault you with a brick. Think of the bragging rights!

  In a bygone time before the dreaded Sol Invictus came to the cliffs (specifically, about 3 years ago), the “containment area” was the hottest place in Ovinium to park your dune buggy and watch the kids go swimming in the ocean without a lifeguard. It was the only place where the cliffs sloped down to sea level, forming a canyon-like beach.

  Now that twilight had set in, the Ramblind forest's lighting grid had come on. Liv and Noah sat at a charred picnic table—the only one still in one piece from the Sol Invictus's rampages—awaiting the infamous beastie with their Medusa Guns on shoulder straps. Raphael stood at the cliff wall on the side and brooded in silence about a nihilistic something or other.

  Era sat and watched the waves on the other side of the beach. He hadn't uttered a single word since “bad dreams last night.” His KM-115 sat five feet away from him, clean of his fingerprints. Raphael placed the gun next to Era an hour ago, while telling him something about the importance of participation and showing good will.

  From the dark water ahead of them came a low “bwaaah” that shook the table. A triangular fin extended from the waves.

  “Is that a shark?” asked Noah.

  “Really? I voggin' love sharks,” said Liv.

  Raphael's sandals slapped against the sand as he came running. “It's him, it's him!” he scream-whispered. “Everybody up, the Sol Invictus is here!”

  The fin ascended from the waves as the beast levitated onto land—to Liv's profound disappointment, it was only a sunfish, arguably the least cool large fish in existence.

  For those who h
ave never seen a sunfish and would like to do an image search, don't, because as narrator, it's my duty to save you from wasting the effort of your keystrokes, of which this mistake of nature isn't worth half. In short: it's basically a huge fishhead shaped pancake with a tiny mouth, two big vertical fins, and a meat tutu.

  [Boss Battle!]

  [Sol Invictus ~NOPE.~]

  [Bestiary: Sol Invictus]

  [Type: Sea Monster, Optional Superboss]

  [Weaknesses: …]

  [HP: 17,400,000]

  [Description: In the year 2406 A.L., the Sol Invictus was theriomanced into existence by Dr. Hattoppai, a Dark Lord from Phiscaea, to serve as both a living weapon and a nihilistic work of art. The Sol Invictus is generally docile, though when provoked by human adventurers, it can enter a hideous transformative rage state and unleash its hidden powers.]

  “Shoot it!” whispered Raphael. “Everyone, shoot it before it transforms!”

  Liv caught sight of Era, still sitting there. “Slasher, grab the damn gun!”

  “I will,” said Era.

  “Now!”

  “Okay.”

  He snatched the Medusa Gun by the barrel, holding it with both hands like a staff, and stood up.

  Noah struggled with his own gun, aiming loosely toward the sunfish. “Raphael, where's the on button?”

  “Noah, do I have to hold your hand the entire bloody time?”

  “'Cause I'm not finding a trigger, or anything. Like, is the safety—”

  “Blap blap, motherfisher!”

  [Liv — Medusa Gun]

  [Missed!]

  SKREEEEEEEE! A stream of pale green plasma spewed out from the tip of the rifle. The sound startled Liv, sending the beam careening into the ocean. The grey, semi-translucent plastic corpses of several crabs and fish floated to the surface.

  Era hit the ground, curling his body over his gun.

  “Vog me, is it supposed to be that loud?”

  “Yes,” said Raphael, his palm at least an inch deep in his face.

  [Sol Invictus — Rage State]

  The sunfish's eyes sunk. Its pupils dilated. With a jerk, it aimed its mouth skyward.

  From its back fin came a pair of muscular, hairy legs and thighs, and a jockstrap-covered pelvis. The fins became a pair of angel wings.

  “BWAAAAAH!”

  From the beast's unhinged jaw came a large, hairy human hand, holding an oversized semi automatic pistol.

  Noah aimed the gun—

  [Sol Invictus — Count the Shells, Human!]

  [99,999 DMG to Noah]

  [Noah was KO'd!]

  —and in a blaze of gunfire, he ended up pixel fading at the base of the cliff wall.

  Liv beat the gun against her knees, hoping that it would stop her legs from shaking, then turned to the monster. “Er, allow me to repeat myself: Blap, blap—”

  The monster dropped its pistol and used its giant hand to give her the finger.

  [Sol Invictus — Der Vogel]

  [99,999 DMG to Liv]

  [Liv was KO'd!]

  The force of the beast's rudeness alone was enough to dash Liv's body against the rocks.

  One hero left.

  Era, not hearing another Medusa Gun blast, finally raised his head and stood up.

  Raphael's voice rang out from the top of the cliff. “Erasmus! You're the last one! It's done with the others, so it'll play with its victim, but not for long! Shoot it!”

  “Gimme a second,” said Era.

  “No! Do it now!”

  “Just, let me get my bearings.”

  “Your friends are dying!”

  “I know!”

  “Shoot, or I will not revive them!”

  That last one was enough to do it.

  Era's hands trembled as he looked up at the monster. The sunfish gargled a choking laugh through its hand as it pointed and laughed at Era.

  “Hi,” said Era. I am a fencer from Mt. Colibri Academy. I can move swords with my mind. I've fought and defeated many monsters. Both of my index fingers are intact. Ergo, on a strictly hypothetical basis...

  He aimed the gun. The fish wagged its finger, belting a mighty “Nuh uh!”

  ...I should be able to pull a trigger.

  The fish-thing wiggled its butt at Era, smacking it a few times with a wing.

  This should be possible. Literally, point and shoot. I don't even need opposable thumbs. A squirrel could do this.

  The butt glowed.

  Dammit, Era, ignore the noise in your brain for three vogging seconds! Shoot!

  [Sol Invictus — Crap Rainbows]

  [Charging for—]

  Era closed his eyes, bit his tongue, and pulled the trigger.

  Liv awoke to the tingling rush of Raphael's Second Wind vapors in her nose, and the smell of toasted plastic. A low, rumbling whine droned on in the near distance.

  [Liv — Ignite]

  With a snap of her fingers, her vision returned.

  The whine came from the Sol Invictus, now wheezing facedown on the beach. Its right leg had been completely turned to heated grey plastic, and its petrified foot had broken off at the ankle.

  Era knelt at its feet, the Medusa Gun in his hands, as Raphael revived Noah. “Good job, Erasmus,” he said. “As much as I would have liked a direct hit, I'm glad you could at least put forth the effort.”

  No reply.

  [Raphael — Second Wind]

  [Noah was revived!]

  “Nice shot, Slasher,” said Liv. “Give it another, and we're outta here!”

  No reply.

  “Slasher?”

  Catching his face at another angle, Liv saw it was covered in tears, and he was laughing softly.

  Era drew his sword.

  “Use the gun,” said Raphael.

  Era placed the gun in front of him.

  Raphael nearly danced in frustration. “Just like that, but reverse! Pick the gun up, put the sword down, and pull the—”

  The green psychic energy of Era's sword turned red.

  [Era — First-Degree Murder of an Inanimate Object]

  Whack. Whack. Whack.

  The gun broke up into metallic splinters that scattered over the sand.

  Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack.

  He laughed. The focusing lens cracked open. The power cell sparked as it broke in half, leaking battery acid. He screamed and laughed some more.

  Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack.

  [Destroyed KM-115 Necrylic Ectolysis Caster!]

  Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack.

  [Uh, already destroyed KM-115!]

  Whack.

  “Erasmus. Please tell me you didn't just—”

  “Sound fair to you, Jordy?” Era charged at Raphael, still laughing, sword drawn. “I'm done talkin', Jordy! DONE TALKIN'!”

  But when he saw the other two of the Chosen Three staring at him, he slowed to a halt in the sand, and sheathed his sword two steps away from his target. His knees buckled. His cheeks were red, bordering on purple.

  “Who's Jordy?” asked Liv.

  Raphael sighed. “Well, Erasmus, now that you've got it out of your system, let's talk about how you're going to be in debt for the next decade to cover the damages.”

  “Goodbye, guys.”

  [Era — Flee]

  As the Sol Invictus drew its last breaths, he ran up the cliff and into the less illuminated parts of the woods.

  [Uh, victory.]

  […but EXP can’t be tallied until the party regroups.]

  Chapter 17

  With or Without You

  Sitting in a patch of grass against the cliff's edge, Era listened to the waves, invisibly black in the moonless night, crash against the rocks. Breathing rhythmically, his mind became increasingly tired in his many attempts to forget about the Medusa Gun.

  It's gone now. The gun is gone. I broke it into little pieces. It's been destroyed. It does not exist, ergo, it should not continue existing. Its memory is not welcome here. You are not welcome here.
My body is a temple, and you just pissed in the collection plate. LEAVE!

  The memory didn't leave.

  Okay. You know what? I'm still in reality. I can still have a good day if I try. But to do that, I gotta try. That's the important bit. Trying. Effort.

  He looked around. There was a mesh safety fence a few feet ahead of him, with several warning signs about the dangers of falling 638 feet onto jagged rocks.

  Orange light from the lamps flickered from the fence's posts.

  A sharp, noisy breeze grazed Era's ears and hair.

  The ground beneath him was wet.

  Snow fell from the sky. A few withered dandelions peeked out from the edge of the burial ditch.

  The sound of a Celsioran helicopter. Black plastic soles on the bottom of Greencoat #39's boot. The checkered pattern they left in Era's face again and again. A panicking baby screamed as it tried to climb out from its mother's solidified—

  “STOP IT!”

  Era fell backwards into the grass. Feeling the cold dirt, he slammed the back of his head into the ground, again and again, as if to pound the memories of snow and murder back to September 6th, 5206.

  When the pain in his head became too intense, he froze there, eyes closed, and sighed.

  It's just a Godsdamn gun, Era. Raphael was only trying to help us get EXP.

  Man up, already.

  “Era, is that you?!”