Chronicles of Ethan Complete Series: A LitRPG / GameLit Fantasy Adventure

by John L. Monk

  “Fine, just tell me what to do.”

  Jaddow’s lips spread in an evil grin. “Heroes of Mythian is just a little too easy for gamers like you. From now on, it’s bye-bye immortality—hello death with consequences.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means we’re going to convert your character to Hard Mode, Ethan. That is, if you’re still serious about reaching your wife. That’s still true, right? You still want to wake her up?” His voice softened with what sounded like real compassion. “Even after she lied to you?”

  I bit back a hasty retort at his constant invasiveness.

  “I’m her husband and she’s my wife,” I said in a surprisingly calm tone. “Just tell me what to do.”

  Chapter Six

  Normally, in Ward 1, players had infinite lives. If we progressed to Ward 2, we’d drop to 1000 lives. In Ward 3, we’d get 100, and in Ward 4, a mere 10.

  The way Jaddow described it, there was a hidden selection deep within my character sheet called Hard Mode. If chosen, it would halve the points needed per level and up my XP per kill, but at a hefty cost. I’d need to eat every day or grow weaker. I could even die of starvation. I’d also need to sleep once a day or my abilities would suffer, and I’d eventually die of exhaustion. If subjected to torture, I could still “give up,” but I wouldn’t revert to level 0. I’d be dead forever.

  The biggest, most obvious, difference was I’d no longer be immortal in Ward 1. I’d have at most a hundred lives no matter which ward I was in—a huge advantage to anyone going for the skin frame prize, he said.

  I asked if players could go to Ward 4, drop to ten lives, then choose Hard Mode and pop back to one hundred.

  “No,” Jaddow said. “Otherwise everyone would do that. Quit trying to cheat.”

  More perks: no one could squint my level, and anyone killing me would receive 0 points for it. I’d still lose a life, but there’d be less incentive. This was great news because all but one of my deaths had been at the hands of other players.

  “Are you afraid?” Jaddow said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Of what?”

  “Death.”

  “I’ve lived my entire flesh-and-blood life knowing I’d die,” I said. “I’m only here because there’s a copy of Melody out there, and she needs me. Will a hundred lives be enough to reach her?”

  Jaddow snorted. “Let’s just say if you can’t get there with a hundred, she’s better off without you.”

  His answer rankled me. That and everything else about him.

  “Are you Hard Mode?” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “How many lives do have?”

  “You’re looking at it. Any more questions?”

  I shook my head, no. Mostly in disbelief, but also because I was speechless. How could a guy like this—with all that power and his own hidden world with a castle in it—only have one life?

  We were standing on a binding stone at the edge of a hot, stinky swamp in the southeast corner of Ward 1, having arrived via one of his magic doorways. I was still immortal—still Normal Mode, and would be until I flipped the selector.

  At Jaddow’s suggestion, I’d bound my “rez point” (as he called it) here.

  “I like this swamp,” Jaddow said, gazing over the landscape. “Would you like to know why?”

  “I’m on pins and needles.”

  Jaddow pulled a small, tight grin. “The Festering Swamp gets gradually more dangerous as you work your way to the middle. Good for low-level players, but great for Hard Mode players.” His voice lowered and he looked at me in a way that was almost imploring. “You must always be aware of your mortality. From this point on, every life lost is a disaster, because you’ll never get it back.”

  I nodded. “Mythian and its designers are twisted sadists, I get it.”

  “Truer than you know,” he said. “And yet people retire here anyway. For the challenge. Your wife was a gamer. She lived and breathed challenge, and yet she hid her desires from you, her husband, rather than be talked out of her decision.”

  Whenever he mentioned Melody, I wanted to throttle him. Deep down, though, I knew he was right. People needed adversity in their lives. Wars between nations had ended late in the last century, but conflict never had. These days, people fought not about resources and national borders, but about ideology—words and ideas, and claims to rights lost in the societal upheavals in the post-postmodern world.

  “Ethan?”

  He’d been talking and I missed it. “Yeah?”

  “When you reach the middle of the swamp,” he said, eyeing me curiously, “there’s a quest instance called the Trial of Pain. It starts beneath a big mound.”

  “What do you mean mound? Like dirt?”

  “More like a large mud hill. Complete the Trial and you’ll get two choices. Pick the right one and you’ll be in your wife’s arms quickly. Pick wrong and it’ll take longer.”

  “What are the choices?”

  “You’ll see when you get there,” he said. “And for reasons I can’t disclose, you’ll have to choose for yourself.”

  Angrily I said, “That’s just great. Well, what can you tell me?”

  “When I feel you’re done, I’ll come for you. In the meantime, don’t go wasting any skill points on spells that aren’t part of a series, or those stupid spell effects. In fact, save one point for every two you get. And keep a handful of stat points in reserve. Good gamers need to be flexible.”

  “But what about the Trial of … uh … whatever. Won’t I need lots of spells to win?”

  Jaddow shook his head. “The Trial of Pain is more about mental toughness than raw power. You won’t need more than what you have right now. Clear?”

  I wasn’t satisfied but nodded anyway.

  Jaddow was carrying a leather pack of supplies he’d packed before bringing me here. Without warning, he tossed it to me, and I stumbled under the weight.

  “Make the switch here at the stone, where it’s still relatively safe,” he said. “Stay alive at all costs, and stick to the rules.”

  “What rules?” I said, exasperated.

  Of course he didn’t answer. He didn’t say goodbye, either. He backed through the magic doorway and vanished, leaving me alone at the edge of The Festering Swamp. Aptly named, because it stunk something fierce.

  Behind me were hills, and beyond those low mountains. To the north, water and mud and trees with trunks like the webbed toes of some alien creature. Buzzing bugs everywhere. And frogs. I liked frogs, at least.

  A path of matted weeds and mud led conveniently down into the swamp.

  I snatched up my pack and put it on. It was just big enough for a one-person tent, a blanket, a little dried fruit and meat, and a serviceable set of cooking supplies. Which meant it was heavy, and I still only had a 2 in strength. Regardless of Jaddow’s advice, as soon as I leveled, I’d add more so I could comfortably lug the thing around.

  “If you love her then quit stalling,” I said.

  I did love her. With everything in me. And yet, turning my back on the certainty of life-everlasting gave me a moment’s pause, followed by shame that I could be even mildly tempted from what I needed to do.

  Angrily, I opened my character sheet and found the section titled “Statistics” under the “Advanced” tab. Then, going by Jaddow’s instructions, I focused on “Days Played” for a full thirty seconds. Nobody in the forums had talked about this setting, and there was nothing in the manual about it, either. How anyone had discovered it was a mystery. But with hundreds, or even thousands, of virtual years under their belts, people would have likely discovered everything by now.

  At the end of the thirty seconds, the words “Hard Mode” appeared with an empty circle next to it. For the next five minutes, I pushed away all other thoughts and concentrated on the circle. Surprisingly hard to do without my mind wandering. Afterward, a tone sounded in my head and a game notification blazed into view, taking up half my field
of vision:

  **WARNING** **WARNING** **WARNING**

  YOU ARE ABOUT TO ACTIVATE “HARD MODE.” DOING SO WILL ALL BUT GUARANTEE YOUR PERMANENT DEATH. THERE IS NO GOING BACK!!!! YOU ONLY GET 100 LIVES!!!! ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?!?!? ARE YOU THAT INSANE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

  (SANE / INSANE)

  Chapter Seven

  The message was strange compared to the ones from the game so far. That string of question marks and exclamation points wasn’t in keeping with the style of their other copy. Granted, some of the spell descriptions were a little on the immature side. But this seemed excessive. Which had me wondering: had the designers told management they were putting in this feature?

  When I chose INSANE, the words disappeared. Other than that, nothing happened.

  Afraid I’d messed up, I checked my character sheet and saw a new entry at the top: “Hard Mode.” A little lower down in the stats area, next to “Lives,” was the number 100. Previously it had read “Infinite.”

  “Holy cow,” I said when I noticed my stats. Once again, I had a 1 in everything. All my previously applied points had been refunded. And I was no longer a Rank 26 sorcerer. I still had access to the class, but it was now rank 0. I had 26 unused class points and 130 skill points. Quickly, I added all 26 unused class points to Sorcerer.

  Jaddow’s advice to conserve seemed sensible, but my health points had suffered a lot from the reset. My single point in vitality left me with 10 base health points. Thank goodness for my +100 health troll ring and +5 vitality boots, because if a bunny hopped by and thought I’d stolen its carrot, I’d quickly be murdered.

  As a stopgap, I threw 5 points into vitality and 30 into intelligence. My health was now 210.

  My robes added +5 intelligence and my staff gave me +100 mana. With my 5 assigned and 1 default, I had 210 mana to work with. More than enough for even the meanest of bunnies. That left me with 120 unused stat points to allocate.

  I scratched an itch and wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead.

  The most powerful spell I had access to was Rain of Fire. For a whopping 1100 mana I could use it once per day, but only if I had at least 110 points in intelligence. Once cast, I’d be running close to empty for a good two hours before I was full again. A spell like that was just about useless around here, with no armies to burn down (or demons to detonate in a tiny room).

  I ended up ditching it and a few other choices in favor of five good high-level spells that didn’t suck up too much mana. None of them were series starters, but rather deeper in their spell series. My guess was I still had access to them because I’d chosen them in the past:

  Greater Lightning Bolt

  Greater Shield

  Greater Invisible Fist

  Greater Sprint

  Greater Ice Bullet

  I scratched another itch and wiped sweat off the back of my neck. Then I scratched my neck. Then I shifted from one foot to the other…

  “Bleh,” I said, fanning myself, trying to think.

  By showing me Hard Mode, Jaddow had inadvertently given me an extra edge over most players, in addition to the points-per-kill boost. Players leveling up would naturally stack their spell lists with each newest spell they could acquire. Weak Shield, Ice Bullet, Zap, and Flame Lance had been among my earliest choices. These were spells powered to deal with lower-level challenges. At higher levels, players were then stuck with a bunch of weak spells they’d never have use for again. By picking spells of only Greater or higher, I’d ensure longer use out of them, and keep a pool of skill points handy for after level 100, when spells cost 2 points each and not 1. Or if I ever decided to multi-class.

  “What the…?”

  I shifted my stance again at the emergence of a vaguely familiar feeling: I felt uncomfortable. My pits were sweaty, my skin itchy and clammy, and my hair felt decidedly greasy. There was a bad taste in my mouth as if I hadn’t brushed my teeth in weeks. Until now, there hadn’t been a need for real-world hygiene. Players were always clean, never itchy, and our breath always smelled fresh.

  “That’s just great,” I said, combing my greasy hair with sweaty fingers.

  Yet another detail Jaddow had failed to tell me about. Not only was my existence more realistic from a mortality perspective, it was also more lifelike, filled with minor aches, pains, and niggling annoyances. What a relief it had been, entering the world as a twenty-something man straight from the body of a sixty-five-year-old drunk. Now it felt as if I’d been shoved right back in my old body.

  I scratched my head again, then my neck, then my sweaty pits. In fact, I couldn’t stop scratching. I checked my body for a swarm of ants, but no, I was fine. Much like a trip to the dentist to replace a missing tooth, my body was reacting to the sudden assault of perfectly normal sensations as if they were foreign entities.

  “Seriously?” I said.

  With a feeling of shocked disbelief, I realized something familiar and strange and altogether profound.

  I had to pee.

  Chapter Eight

  Though I was completely alone, I hid behind a tree anyway and did my business. Game urination was no different than in real life. Same tickle upfront, same easing of tension, and it smelled the same too. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It had to be good, being more human. Didn’t it?

  The sun hung high in the sky, and the swampy heat had me thirstier than ever—another in-your-face sign of my new humanity, but one Jaddow had prepared for. In my pack was an empty cup with a red rune carved into the bottom. After he’d given it to me, I’d asked if he had any Jaddow-level magic items he could loan me. He’d said I had to earn my gear like everyone else, and I was lucky he was giving me anything.

  I took the cup to a nearby pool and filled it with yellowish water. A second later, the red rune flashed and the water turned clear. I took a sip and marveled at the luxury of chilled, pure water in such a nasty place.

  From far off in the swamp came the deep sound of a gong. This was followed by screeches, howls, croaks, and hoots from various creatures sounding their replies as if scripted.

  “Perfectly fine,” I said. “Not troubling at all.”

  One didn’t need to be a biologist to know this sort of animal behavior was unnatural. I waited a while in silence, but the noise didn’t happen again.

  Before setting out, I assigned my remaining points as best I could.

  Adding 45 more points to intelligence brought my mana to 910.

  Putting 20 points in strength brought it to 21, and allowed me to lift my heavy pack far more easily.

  Adding another 20 points to vitality brought me to 31 after my +5 boots, my starting value of 1, and the 5 I’d already added. Prudent, considering I was no longer immortal.

  I shunted my last 10 points into agility—a stat I’d previously ignored. Without Rita around to stand between me and danger, I hoped the extra .10% “Avoidance” was worth it. This was a derived stat I couldn’t directly add to and would help me unconsciously avoid attacks, as well as slips and falls.

  With everything settled, I picked up my pack and set off down a path of reedy tufts and shallow puddles. Very quickly, the water seeped through my boots. Time would tell whether my more realistic reality included blisters and infections.

  I activated my Greater Shield for 100 mana (deferred). A self-only shield, it’d suck up 500 points of damage and was castable every eight hours. That left me with more than 800 mana. Once again, I congratulated myself on not wasting skill points on low-level spells. Now I just needed to find an evil creature with claws and a taste for blood. No dragons, hopefully. Maybe a nice salamander or giant spider. Something easy until I got my feet under me.

  An hour later, sweating buckets from the heat and feeling decidedly stinky, I had my first encounter—a deer, drinking water near the shore of a tree-covered lagoon. I hated the idea of shooting up wildlife but reminded myself this was only a game.

  Greater Lightning Bolt!

  The bolt cracked through the air a
nd dropped the gentle beast in a twitching, tangled heap near the shore.

  ENEMY DEFEATED: Poor Defenseless Deer, 6 EXPERIENCE POINTS

  “Screw you too, Mythian,” I muttered.

  I started to move and then stopped. Something was moving in the water—a V-shaped line of ripples heading directly to the spot with the dead deer. Seconds later, a huge black tentacle snaked out, snagged the deer by the neck, and dragged it away in a bubbling swirl.

  Because Greater Lightning Bolt was on a one-minute cooldown, I fired off Greater Invisible Fist. With nothing to focus on, the spell hit the water, resulting in a massive splash that rained water everywhere, me included. No game notice followed saying I’d killed whatever was down there, and the lagoon was so rippled now I couldn’t see anything swimming.

  Despite missing the tentacle thing, I smiled. Good to know there were larger creatures around than just deer.

  A while later, wading crotch-deep through a pool, something bounced off my shield into the water, taking 30 points of absorption and a little deferred mana with it. I looked around but didn’t see anything.

  After a few minutes of nothing happening, I cautiously waded out, took off my boots, and poured out the water. My feet were bone-white and wrinkly, but free of blisters, thank goodness.

  From the corner of my eye, a shadow. I looked up in time to see a rock soaring from the treetops into my shield, taking another 30 points with it. The foliage was too thick to see through, but the branches shook with movement.

  Greater Lightning Bolt!

  The blast snapped off a huge branch and shook free a shrieking monkey. The creature twisted through the air before landing lightly on the ground.

  Greater Ice Bullet!

  The bullet smashed into the monkey, killing it instantly.

  ENEMY DEFEATED: Swamp Monkey, 2000 EXPERIENCE POINTS

  As with the deer, the spell was overkill. But so were the points received. Before Hard Mode, such a small creature would have given me a lot less. Still, with more than 41,000 points to go before leveling, I’d need way more than tiny deer and the odd monkey. According to Jaddow, I’d be stuck in this swamp until he felt I was “done.” At the time, I’d been overwhelmed by new information and hadn’t pressed him on when that was or how he’d know.