Class-A Threat (Disgardium Book #1) LitRPG Series

by Dan Sugralinov

  The jewelry vendor came back next looking glum. As he ran away, Justasec threw some cheap jewelry, but nothing was found on his person. The trader picked up a few rings on the way back, but he couldn't say whether he'd found everything. He had no system of bookkeeping, so he had a hard time saying what he had in the first place.

  I also looked over his goods just out of curiosity and a few of the rings really caught my eye. But with a wallet as thin as mine, there was nothing to buy. I said goodbye and ran to the Bubbling Flagon.

  I saw Patrick when I came near the tavern. Figuring it was long since time to have a chat, I got a copper ready to make him more talkative. But the drunkard called out to me first. Revealing his rotting teeth, he asked me with a smirk:

  "Well, how's life with a curse, boy?"

  "That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Patrick. Here," and extended him a copper.

  "Stick this small change up your ass!" the old alcoholic wheezed, chuckling. "For once the heavens listened to me! I swear on the stinking hole I crawled out of to reach this world that this is only the beginning! Praise be to Behemoth!"

  The madman's laughter drew the attention of some passersby. They were used to seeing Patrick belting out songs, cursing, indulging in self-pity and clinking coppers together, but they had never seen him jubilant. I needed to do something before his strange drunkard's behavior drew even more attention.

  "You want me to treat you to a drink, Patrick? I've got money now. Here..." I scraped a few silver coins from my inventory, showing the drunk.

  His laugh cut off as sharply as it began. Patrick froze in place and stared at the handful of silver, intrigued.

  "You want to smooth over your sins, eh?" he asked, serious and no longer slouching. "Why didn't you say so? Alright, let's go boy. We can sit and have a drink. Just one thing... I will not protect you and I cannot remove the curse! I don't know how it happened, or what triggered it. It's never happened before."

  "Come on, old Patrick. You know," I smiled. "I'm getting by just fine. I wanted to talk about something else..."

  Interlude Two. Patrick

  HE WAS a middle-aged man, tall, stiff and entirely confident in himself and his boys. He looked around and couldn't hold back a smile. The girl behind him smiled back.

  "Jane, my wife," Patrick O'Grady turned the thought over a few times, savoring it. He felt like he could stare at her pretty face until the end of time and still couldn't believe they'd be getting married in just two days.

  How long he had courted Jane! He first noticed her as a long-legged, gangly girl with knobby knees running around the streets of Tristad. He always thought that one day she would blossom into a beautiful woman.

  And she had grown up now. Patrick found out her name and what family she was from and tried to get to know her father to have an excuse to talk to Jane more often. But she didn't even want to look at him. Her father, a trader of expensive fabrics, had an entirely different future planned for his girl. He wanted her to study at the University of Magic, then getting a career as an enchanter in the big city. You see, Jane had the gift of magical perception, and her doting father ordered her a pair of voluminous folios from the first caravan that came through town after her abilities revealed themselves. One was for elemental magic and the other for nature.

  And the coming of a new mage did not go unnoticed by the city council. Chief Councilman Whiteacre had convinced Jane's father to let his daughter join the city guard and help the patrols. And they didn't have to ask her. What could be a greater honor than helping one's city?

  And that was where things began to take a turn. Jane started to consider Patrick as a partner. Not a handsome man, but recklessly brave, he was reliable in battle and very kind outside work as well. The boys in the squadron loved him with all their hearts. And at first their unreserved loyalty to their leader rubbed off on Jane, then her feelings grew into something larger...

  That very day, City Guard Captain Patrick O'Grady was patrolling the border with Gloomwood. His shift was coming to an end – very soon Mills' group would arrive to take over. Then he, Jane and the boys would go to the Bubbling Flagon to celebrate their last joint patrol. And it really would be their last. Patrick had decided to quit and take Jane to the capital of the Darant Commonwealth to hone her magical abilities.

  And he... He was strong, disciplined and had great recommendations from Tristad city council. What was more, at his mere twenty-five years of age, Patrick had been made an honorary citizen for his heroism during an outbreak of the nether. In the struggle to hold it back, he had distinguished himself, a fact that made him well known in Tristad. So he would have no trouble finding work in the capital guard.

  "Captain! We’ve got action on the right" cried Frank, a younger guardsman.

  Patrick held back. Frank had high Night Vision, but drew attention with his shout. Now even the captain could see the thing coming in from the forest. It was a few wraiths: six level-fifteen offspring of the nether and one level-twenty elite.

  "Lukas, you take the little ones!" Patrick commanded. "Boys, focus on your targets! I'll hold off the elite for now. Jane, heal on Lukas! As soon as you're done with them, come join me!"

  The squadron started carrying out their captain's orders without a second thought. Patrick's experience and clear command in battle was the main reason he hadn't suffered a single loss in more than a year. And that was something of a record among the patrol squadrons of the Tristad guard.

  The captain himself made a jump at the elite wraith and dealt a series of special attacks, generating aggro. With his trusty motions and very high Dodge and armor... This elite didn't stand a chance.

  The guys quickly chopped their targets into coleslaw, then turned to the elite. Patrick walked back, giving Lukas some space, then allowed himself a quick breather. Looking toward the city, he saw torch lights – that must have been Mills’ boys.

  The high-level undead was just a few blows from death when it retreated. And that was strange because the beasts that inhabited Gloomwood always fought to the last breath, if such a thing can be said about that which does not breathe. But this one was behaving unusually. The wraith lit up with an otherworldly fire, blinding Patricks' soldiers for a few seconds and ran off.

  He could not be left alive. His vision returned, Patrick saw where the thing was going, shouted an order and dashed off, first on the chase. The wraith was covering ground quickly. That thing could not be allowed to leave combat mode and restore its health! Somewhere behind, tripping on something, Jane shouted. The captain let the boys go ahead, himself returning to help the girl. The two of them quickly caught the squadron. It picked up the pace and dashed out ahead.

  But the picture that revealed itself made him pump the breaks then stop altogether. The wraith had gone upward and was hovering in midair. And right behind him began a wall of foreboding fog, which flickered with green light.

  "Wait, Patrick!" Jane exclaimed.

  He didn't listen. The elite wasn't running and, expecting some kind of trick, the captain was careful in his approach. The squadron stayed where they stood, not having any orders.

  But his sword just split the air, not touching its target. The wraith dissolved in the fog.

  "Got away..." Patrick spat out. "Let's head back, boys!"

  He turned away from the fog, took a step and, much to his surprise, found himself covered in stinging wet goo. There was such a dead silence in the air that he thought he had gone deaf. In the fog he saw some silhouettes, and Patrick took an unconfident step toward them.

  "Jane? Lukas? Frank? Slava? Phil? Claudio? Carius?"

  The figures disappeared. Then Lukas appeared right in front of him. He was grinning with superiority and shaking his head.

  "You're such an idiot, captain," he said.

  "What happened, Lukas? What are you talking about, old friend?"

  "Jane... You still expect it to happen, don’t you...? Your wedding? Didn't anyone tell you that girls need it?" />
  "What exactly?"

  "They've got an itch," Lukas said with a whinny. "An itch, you understand? And it needs scratching, it's human nature! And she dropped you plenty of hints, but you're too much of a dumbass! And so O'Grady, what choice did I have when she came to me?"

  "Lukas, let's discuss this in the city. It isn't safe to stay here. Let's go, old friend!" Patrick tried to embrace his squadron’s secondary tank, but Lukas dodged and threw his hand away.

  "Go to hell, Captain! You aren't even worthy of her pinky finger!"

  Patrick went crimson. He wasn't a dazzling intellect and often didn't understand things, but this reached even him.

  "Is there something going on between you?" he asked.

  "You son of a bitch, how can you be so stupid?" Lukas started cackling. "Open your eyes, O'Grady. We’re sleeping together! Us! Me and her! Getting it on! Doing it, you son of a bitch!"

  Patrick then felt like he was dying. His heart stopped, his breathing seized. All the blood ran into his head, he stumbled and dropped his sword. Then he keeled over, unable to carry the weight of this betrayal.

  When he woke up and opened his eyes, the fog was gone. His squadron was all around.

  And they were clearly up to something! Jane's false wailing tore his soul to bits. That dog!

  Lukas leaned in over him and snorted:

  "You doin’ alright, cap?"

  On the other side, the new kid Frank patted him on the shoulder. Patrick saw in his eyes that he also harbored a sense of superiority. He knew! Or maybe he was also playing him like a fool? Patrick extended a hand and felt for his fallen sword. Without giving away his intentions, the captain grabbed the handle and, with a sharp exhale, stuck the sword right into Lukas' dastardly mug. A moment later he jumped and cut Frank's throat in a lightning-fast motion. Clutching at his neck, he collapsed. The blood gushed out of his young body. His youthful eyes went glassy.

  "What the nether? Captain?" They threw themselves at him to take his weapon.

  He broke out of it with his superior strength and level and cut Slava and Claudio down in just a few slashes. Traitors! Somewhere to the side, Jane was squealing and trying to heal – not him! – the others that were still alive. How many were left?

  Carius threw his weapon and ran. He had always been a coward, and this squadron was no place for the weak! Patrick threw an axe into his fleeing back. Gotcha. The deserter fell dead as a doornail.

  Groaning with madness, he dashed at the next one. With a vengeful grin, Patrick slammed his shield into Phil's nose. He was the one Jane was trying to heal. So, him too? Fuck other peoples' wives in hell, scum! Patrick jabbed the sword into his heart.

  Now only Jane was left. She was weeping and drying her tears.

  "Why Patrick? Just why?" the slut wailed. "What did they do to you? Lukas, Phil, Frank, Slava, Carius... Why?"

  He felt like the part of that governed emotion had been yanked out. Lukas wasn't lying. She said his name first, which must have meant she was crying for him. Patrick shoved her against a tree and sharply drew his dagger across her throat. Choking on blood, she slumped back. A look was frozen in her once beautiful eyes... shock?

  To make sure the enchantress wouldn't heal herself, he cut off her head. The headless body stayed on its feet for a few moments and fell. A locket flew off her neck. It was a gift from Patrick – a portrait. And inside it was his own face – young, with a dashing moustache and a boyish smile. But it looked was a stranger's face now, not his. He didn’t feel like that person anymore.

  He picked up the locket and opened it. He saw Lukas’s smirking mug.

  Patrick issued the enraged yelp of a wounded animal, tore a bronze chain from his own neck with an identical pendant gifted by Jane and threw it as far as he could. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, but it barely registered.

  He was very tired. A twelve-hour shift, a few battles and the last – with traitors – had him completely bugged out. Patrick laid down, feeling like he just couldn't move a muscle. His eyes closed, and his mind went quiet, enjoying the silence.

  He woke up to a bitter cold. Snow had fallen. The dismantled bodies of Jane and his boys were still lying on the ground around him as if to prove this was no nightmare. There would be no wedding now.

  With that thought in mind, Patrick stood up. He took a step and slipped on the locket that had fallen off Jane. He picked it up and, not thinking, opened it. And the portrait was a gallant image of himself smiling – young and with dashing moustache.

  It was then that Patrick realized exactly what had happened. His knees started to buckle, but he found the strength inside to find his fiancée’s head in the bushes.

  And after that he spent a long time trying to get it back on her body...

  * * *

  For the next few days, Captain Patrick O'Grady wandered the forest aimlessly. Back in town he was considered missing without a trace. The knowledge of what he'd done slammed into him like a ton of bricks. He saw no sense in continuing to live and was attacking any living thing he encountered, hoping to die in battle. But he won every time no matter how he wanted the opposite. And he was not going to give up or kill himself – that went against the teachings of Nergal the Radiant.

  A week of wandering later, he reached the Mire. The creatures there didn't touch him for some reason. A huge Snakehead he encountered on one of the little islands refused to fight and soundlessly dove underwater.

  And that was approximately the same day he started hearing the voice. It whispered that there was a way to fix all this. It told him what to do. When he was hungry, the voice told him where to find food and it always knew where to look. The first time Patrick found the body of a hippo that had recently died and filled his stomach with raw swampy-flavored meat. Another day, he hit upon a pack of magnetic toads around nightfall. They seemed to have hypnotized one another, so he easily tore them to bits and ate them.

  Led on by the voice, Patrick wandered the Mire always knowing precisely where to place his feet to stay alive.

  He spent many long days in motion, obeying the voice. It was the only thing keeping him alive and sane. Or so he thought. The voice told him about what used to be. In the distant past, long before the first human foot stepped upon the earth, it was ruled by entities we now called the Sleeping Gods.

  Patrick tried to ask what happened and where the Sleeping Gods had gone, but the voice gave no answer. The whispered reply could hardly be considered that.

  Patrick reached a patch of dry land any normal person would call a muck heap rather than an island and there he collapsed, totally drained. And the voice said he'd reached his destination. This was his place. Where he was supposed to be.

  Patrick himself could feel it, too. There was a slight vibration and monotone hum coming from somewhere deep beneath him.

  "What next?" the former guard captain asked aloud.

  "We make a deal, mortal," the voice whispered. "We have been forgotten, no one believes in us. That is the cause of our weakness. We can handle that later, but now..."

  The voice gave him some curt but concise commands: return to the city, cover up his involvement in the slaughter, say the fog killed his team and reoccupy his place in the city. Once back in the city guard, by the spring equinox, find a suckling babe and bring it to the Mire to sacrifice in the name of Behemoth – the one true god.

  "And how will that help get Jane back?" Patrick asked. "And what will become of me?"

  "You shall be our first apostle," came the rustling voice of Behemoth. "We can protect you. We will bring in more adepts, our power will grow. My power will grow! I will bring Jane back to you..."

  By the end of the short winter, Patrick was back in Tristad. No one recognized him: gaunt, bearded and gray, O'Grady had been cause for discussion for quite some time. The mysterious story of the disappearance of the top patrol squadron was talked about all winter. But all the crazy hypotheses were overturned by the return of the captain himself, who explained everything.<
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  The hardest part turned out to be looking Jane's father in the eye when he told him. After losing his only daughter, the widower closed his stall. And after talking to Patrick, he gave all his property to the city, becoming a servant of the temple.

  Patrick resumed his service with the Guard, but refused to patrol, preferring to serve as a common gatekeeper, just opening and closing the city gates. And they understood.

  The day appointed by Behemoth was fast approaching. The voice abandoned Patrick when he left the Mire, and he would have forgotten about it if not for the daily reminders of Jane. They used to love walking down this street, and under that tree is where they had their first kiss.