You're in Game! LitRPG Stories from Bestselling Authors

by Vasily Mahanenko

  "Get on with it!" the alchemist snapped.

  I laid my hand on the sticky floor, then drew a wide vertical circle in the air. A bloody ring hovered above the floor. The spell sliced through the in-game reality, opening a portal into the astral plane. It exuded a spine-chilling cold.

  Calmly I stepped through the portal into a boundless void. The only things disrupting its infinity were the fine threads of power lines and wisps of digital reality drifting through empty space.

  The void latched onto me with hundreds of invisible tentacles, greedily sucking me dry of my mana. Still, my access to Divine Magic made my resources practically limitless. Unhurriedly I recited the search spell, binding the victim's blood on my hand to her skin the murderer had taken away as a trophy.

  The scarlet droplets covering my fingers began to boil and form the finest red cord reaching out into the distance. I hurried to clutch at it. The next moment I was jerked out of my place and pulled across the void fast and sharp as if I were a bolt released from a crossbow.

  The astral plane whizzed past me like a gray shadow as the blood magic pulled me after the murderer. That was a mistake. The barely noticeable dot in front of me zoomed into a large inky spot which grew a great many ghostly tentacles. They reached out toward me, impatient to catch me and take me in.

  I barely had enough time to fling the Spear of Shadows.

  In the brief moment of my travel through the astral plane, the combat spell had weakened 48%. This was the reason why, instead of ripping the phantom guard apart and scattering his fragments in space, he had only been torn in two. One of his tentacles lashed against my leg, breaking the blood line. I was thrown aside and swept away by a whirlwind. The spawn of the Dark was level 30: the highest possible for creatures of Inferno. Now it split into two level-10 creatures which attacked me with a renewed vigor. Still, my promptly cast magic sphere protected me from their first attack, buying me enough time to draw the portal formula back into the real world.

  Immediately a box popped up, counting down the spell's dwindling Durability. I dashed for the portal which had just begun to open when something grabbed my left ankle and pulled me back, strongly and unhesitantly.

  Critical damage received: dislocated foot!

  Overcoming the power of the pull, I grabbed at the wilting grass and strained my every muscle, forcing myself through the gaping split between the two realities. The phantom tentacle reached for me through the opening — but, assaulted by the sun's rays, began to twitch, smoking. I slashed it with my Elven dagger cast with a special spell which turned out to be 2 pt. more than the creature's immunity to cold steel.

  The dagger cut clean through the tentacle entwining my foot and crumbled it to dust.

  "Dammit!" I hurried to scramble away from the closing portal.

  The attack of the guardian spirit had thrown me off course. Finding the murderer wasn't going to be as easy now as I'd originally planned.

  Still, somehow I didn't think the error was that big. My target must be around somewhere.

  I limped down a small lane, feeling for a healing potion in my pocket. I gulped it down and hurried on, free from the distracting pain.

  Health: +7/1500

  Critical damage neutralized

  The agility penalty removed

  Stamina restored

  The lane brought me out into the back yard of some tavern or other. I turned a corner and found myself in a large square packed with humans, Elves, orcs and all sorts of unidentifiable creatures. Music played; revelers poured their cups from the kegs set on the pavement.

  My Divine Vision couldn't help me much here. My eyes watered with all the countless name tags hovering over the players' heads.

  Oh no! This was probably some kind of event. Just my luck!

  Wings flapped overhead. Munin the Raven landed on my shoulder.

  "Suspicious activity in the victim's account detected," he croaked. "Someone posing as her has invited a player known as Alex999 to meet her in the Rusty Axe Inn."

  "Posing as her?" I repeated, casting wary glances around me. "How sure are you it's not her?"

  "The victim's consciousness is trapped in her dead body. It can't be her."

  "Are you implying that someone has hacked into her account?"

  "It's highly probable."

  I noticed a shop sign sporting a hefty two-handed battle axe and hurried toward it, skirting the square in the direction of a well-built stone house and doing my best not to push and shove my way through the crowd too hard. Soon I slowed down, however. "How fast you think you can block the hacker?"

  "We're working on it. Still, the server is in overload because of this event. We can't just unplug the whole cluster. We need to pinpoint his exact location first-"

  Suddenly the raven's voice changed. Now he sounded like the alchemist I'd left in the forest hut. "Critical error! The game has been breached! The victim has been made comatose on purpose! Stop him! Stop him now!"

  "Stop whom?" I asked.

  "Alex999 shouldn't meet with the metamorph! Alex999 is the nickname of Alexander Reiss, Jr.! The son of-"

  Yes, yes. The son of Alexander Reiss Sr., our billionaire investor.

  "I want you to listen closely," the alchemist hurried, using the raven as a communications channel. "We've managed to recover some of the logs. The metamorph didn't just steal the dead girl's identity. He used the server's breach to block her mind in the game and gain access to her account. The victim is a personal friend of Reiss, Jr. Answering her invitation, he logged in unaccompanied by his bodyguards, using the digital copy of his own body. The hacker is after him, not her! Our guys are still busy fixing the hole in the code. You must make sure they don't meet!"

  "I'll see what I can do."

  "Just do it! Please! Don't you understand what's at stake?"

  Oh yes I did. An accident with the billionaire brat might mean closing the game down. If the hacker managed to render him comatose, our rankings would sink faster than you could say Titanic. Also, I'd lose my job.

  Which wasn't a nice prospect, I had to admit.

  I shoved the inn door open and stepped inside. Much to my disappointment, no one in its large room looked remotely like a billionaire brat.

  Two drunks by the bar were busy getting sloshed on cheap brandy under a fat innkeeper's disapproving glare. A lanky waiter was half-heartedly dragging a mop across the greasy floor. A table by the door was taken by an Elf and a young girl, her breast disproportionately large for her slender frame.

  My gaze alighted on the latter. Not to stare at her erect nipples showing through her blouse, no: I was busy opening her and her friend's stats windows. The Elf turned out to be a level 39 Forest Dancer and his girlfriend, a level 27 Marsh Witch.

  The innkeeper turned to the sound of the front door slamming shut behind me. He yawned and covered his mouth with his meaty hand. "All the rooms are taken."

  I nodded my understanding and headed for the bar. "No chance of a hot meal?"

  Admittedly, food didn't interest me in the slightest. I sensed the presence of the blood cord linking me to the murderer. He was here somewhere. Upstairs, most likely.

  "Some chow, you mean?" the innkeeper sounded confused. He bent down and looked under the bar. "Yeah, I suppose so..."

  Elves are a noiseless lot, you have to give them that. I would never have known he'd stolen up on me had it not been for his clumsy girlfriend. One of her heels clanked on the floor as she scrambled down her high stool. The Elf lunged onto me, whipping out a curved dagger from its sheath. One of the drunks swung round and hurled a half-empty brandy bottle at me.

  Shadow Mode: On

  +50% to Speed and Reaction Times

  +25% to Accuracy and Damage

  +20% to your chance of dealing critical damage

  Duration: 20 sec

  Color drained from the scene, clouding it in a gray haze. Sounds subsided. Like an off-white lightning, I swung in place and leaped toward the Elf, dodging his blow. The da
gger whizzed over my head: my Dodge was 30% better than his Accuracy with all its bonuses and perks taken together. I reverse-gripped my knife, slicing the enemy's leg directly across the ligament and sending Mr. Pointy Ears tumbling across the floor.

  A red-lettered warning added to the battle logs, reporting a critical penalty to the Elf's Agility due to the damaged ligament and another -10 pt./sec Health caused by damage to his popliteal vein.

  Without stopping, I lunged for the witch who was busy growing a magic lightning bolt between her hands, and stabbed her in the neck.

  Another red line added to the logs. My knife had sliced through the artery, letting out a thick stream of blood. I swung round to meet the "drunks" who were about to attack me from behind. I kicked a stool from under the first one's feet, grabbed the second one's cudgel arm and buried my knife under his armpit, just above the edge of his sleeveless chainmail shirt.

  The blow proved lethal. The man tumbled to the floor, his Life bar colorless. His partner jumped back to his feet, forcing me to slash him across his eyes.

  The Shadow Mode's +20% to critical damage kicked in again, blinding the guy. A new symbol appeared over his head: an eye crossed with a red line.

  By then, the wounded Elf had already reached for the dagger he'd dropped in his fall. I pressed my knee against his back. The slim blade of my knife slid easily into the space between his spine and the base of his skull. His Life bar reset to zero. The Elf stopped moving.

  A crossbow snapped. I twisted my body, feinting my cloak like a bullfighter. Oozing magic, the crossbow bolt passed uselessly through the fabric and pierced the wall's wooden paneling. The wood split and turned black, billowing smoke.

  This time my Dodge was only 1 pt. higher than the crossbow attack's Accuracy. So when the innkeeper bent down to reload his light crossbow, I unhesitantly threw my knife at him. My advanced throwing weapon skill in combination with Shadow Mode sent the knife exactly where I aimed it, burying the blade in the innkeeper's eye socket.

  With the Shadow Mode already expiring, I finished off the blinded drunkard.

  My head swam. The gray haze receded. The pale blood staining the whole place turned bright red again. Sounds returned, loud and clear.

  Shadow Mode: Off

  -15% penalty to Strength and Stamina

  -10% penalty to Speed, Accuracy and Reaction Times

  -5% penalty to Damage

  -25% to your chance to deal critical damage

  The penalty expires in: 15 min

  I heard a pattering sound. Someone was clapping their hands.

  The lanky waiter.

  "Not bad," he laughed, then gave his mop a mighty kick, breaking the handle off and twirling it in front of him like a proper Staff Master, turning a humble mop handle into a whooshing, ghostly disk.

  Although he'd blocked his personal data, my Divine Vision forced his stats tab to open.

  Main Class: Spear Bearer

  Secondary class: Telekinesis Mage

  Specialization: Puppeteer

  Level, 83

  Health, 1256/1256

  Status, co-chairman of the Free Lancers clan

  Name: Marius Thorne

  Someone else might find this mercenary hard to tackle, but not me. Still, I had my work cut out for me here — simply because I had to use combat spells with caution for fear of alerting the murderer.

  I glanced at the Shadow Mode cooldown timer and winced. I still had another 14.5 minutes until it was live again, and two more hours until the next teleport.

  What a cunning bastard!

  Munin the Raven sprang onto my shoulder from a ceiling beam. "You must pull Alexander out of the game!" he croaked. "You should kill his char, if necessary!"

  "Why can't you just unplug him?"

  "His capsule is blocked! If we unplug him, he might suffer brain damage!"

  A girl appeared at the top of the stairs. She was slim and pretty, with bloodshot eyes and faint traces of cuts on her pale skin. She was supporting a young guy, leading him downstairs. The guy had the vacant stare of a stoned junkie.

  Even my Divine Vision failed to open his personal information. It wasn't really blocked: it was as if it didn't exist!

  Wretched hacker!

  "Alex!" I shouted but the kid staggered on, his body limp as if sleepwalking. The mercenary headed for me, still swinging his stick.

  I didn't need to stay quiet any longer. I thrust my left hand forward, growling with pain as a clot of ashen-gray shadows escaped my fingertips. The combat spell broke the enemy's stick and hit him in the chest. His immunity to magic failed. The damage was twice his current health reading. The "spear bearer" exploded with a nasty popping sound, sending cascades of blood, flesh and bone fragments all over the inn.

  I dipped my right hand into a pool of blood and shook it, willing the scarlet droplets to freeze in mid-air, then used them to draw the summoning formula for Hell Hounds. They were just another type of service bots, not exactly sentient but fast and invulnerable.

  My actions made the girl stop. She was surrounded by a digital aura that didn't belong to her. Apparently, her appearance wasn't the only thing the metamorph murderer had borrowed.

  "Wrong timing," the creature waved an annoyed hand in the air, showering me with lightning.

  The furniture unlucky enough to be in its wake turned to ash. Me, I didn't even try to dodge it. I just threw my left hand in the air and made a simple figure with my fingers, summoning the Veil of Darkness from a quick access slot.

  This top-level defense magic had no problem absorbing my enemy's attack. The lightning didn't touch me. The raven, however, disintegrated in a shower of binary code. My shoulder smarted where his claws had clutched.

  You've received Damage!

  Health: -15/1485

  For a brief moment, my head swam. The kidnapper didn't linger. He grabbed the kid and dragged him downstairs into the cellar.

  Grinding my teeth with the still-painful itch in my shoulder, I resumed the summoning ritual. Or should I say, I attempted to do so.

  The droplets of blood in the air had turned gray and become unresponsive to my will. I tried to repeat the formula but it was inactive. And not just that! My entire Divine Magic tab was blocked as if the raven's death had canceled my access.

  "Shit!" I hurried after them, taking the stairs down three at a time. A bricked-up doorway rose before me.

  Unhesitantly I used the Magic Ram. The spell destroyed the obstacle with habitual ease. I stepped through the cloud of dust into the cellar. A summoning formula was hastily drawn on the floor, the room's dark corners crawling with dreadful shadows. Cold breathed in my face. Frost was rapidly covering the walls and floor with its silvery swirls. I felt tired and desperate.

  Mental attack: 68

  Immunity to powers of Inferno: 33

  Immunity to hypnosis magic: 25

  Class bonus: 12

  Level bonus: 10

  Attack has failed

  I forced myself to overcome the spirits' mental attack, then shouted the Holy Exorcism formula. The words of the spell rolled over the cellar like a wall of fire, burning the summoned minions of the Dark whose inferior level hadn't withstood the blow from Higher Magic.

  My shoulder smarted again.

  I tugged at my collar, pulling it aside to check on the claw marks. They were infected and surrounded by the black script of unknown codes. Something alien had penetrated my body and it didn't look good.

  I didn't care.

  I ran the whole length of the cellar stacked with beer kegs and bundles of sausages hanging off the ceiling. I was about to kick open the grate at its far end when I noticed the haze of protective charms surrounding it. So I decided to teleport instead.

  My head swam in a bout of nausea. A translucent maintenance message appeared before my eyes,

  Your current level doesn't allow access to the requested spell. It has been temporarily removed from your skill tree.

  "Excuse me?" I shouted. "What the f-"


  My Dark Wanderer was the highest level possible. It just couldn't happen!

  Then I realized, horrified, that my XP was dropping rapidly — nullifying all my skills and spells!

  My personal stat window now read,

  Status, Dark Wanderer

  Level, 68

  Roaring with rage, I used the primitive — but no less effective — Fist of Fury to bash the wall next to the grate. There! And again!

  Mana: — 50/950

  Mana: — 50/900

  My magic powers began to dwindle. Still, the wall succumbed to my fifth blow, collapsing and bringing the grate down. I jumped into the opening — and ducked, rolling over the floor to avoid the jet of magic flames coming from a rune mounted on the wall. My 30% immunity to fire allowed me to avoid serious injury but I was forced to pull off and discard my burning cloak.

  A stone staircase loomed through the haze. I ran toward it, hearing measured footsteps coming down. A Steel Knight descended toward me. Luckily, his flamberge sword proved too long. Its undulating blade grazed the low ceiling, allowing me to leap closer and attack him with Elven Rust. The spell worked like a dream, turning the golem's armor into a rusted pile of junk metal. Its durability dropped 95%. Assisted by Bone Crusher, my fist punched right through it, my arm sinking elbow deep into the Knight's flesh.

  I received an almighty blow on my back from the sword's hilt. My ribs cracked. My breathing seized. Still, I kept my footing and ripped the Knight's heart out of his chest. It dissolved into a nasty reactive chemical in my hand. The golem's orange Life bar turned gray. It collapsed in a heap of lifeless armor.

  Health: -150/1335

  You've received critical damage to your chest!

  -10% penalty to Stamina, Agility and Reaction Times

  -20% penalty to damage dealt by two-handed slashing weapons