“He’s in the game, but not of the game,” Ori answered, sounding more like a fortune cookie than I cared for.
“Make more sense,” I demanded even though I had no business doing so, seeing as how she could snap me in half with a thought.
“The Shadow is like you, Iron Jack. He’s like Aaron was,” she said.
“He’s a human?” I asked, my eyes widening and my mouth dropping.
“Of course he’s a human,” Hecate said. “We told you, only someone like you can sit on the Skull Throne. If the Shadow didn’t come from your realm, we wouldn’t be half as scared of him as we are. He was pulled into this place, not by us, not by the Principalities, but pulled nonetheless.”
“And he’s charismatic,” Ori said. “You can see the soldiers he’s gathered thus far. If we allowed his presence to be known in your realm–”
“Then you’d get every douchebag wishing their last name was Lannister fighting for him from the comfort of their couches,” I finished. “You have to keep it a secret to contain it.”
This guy was more dangerous than I thought.
“So where is he?”
“Why do you think I want you to go in there and kick some ass, Iron Jack?” Hecate grinned. “If we’re going to get any information worth anything about the bastard, it’s going to be from people like that. Besides, you’ll never have a better chance to get some much-deserved revenge on the Jackal.”
The idea lit me up. The Jackal needed a punch in the mouth or a sword in the gut, whichever I was able to give him. That alone might have been enough to get me to rush headlong into that place. Knowing the truth about The Shadow, that he was just a man like me and not some over the top boss supervillain coupled with the knowledge that Hecate and Ori would be on my side was nearly enough to push me over the edge.
There was only one thing left to consider.
“I can still die and they can’t,” I said. “And I don’t want to sound like a coward, but that’s still a big deal. I want to get through this, and I want to see my sister and nephew again. You expect me to take on all those guys and not die?”
“That’s exactly what we expect you to do,” she answered. “Because you are who you are. You are the linchpin of the Avenging Angels. You are our champion in the flesh, soul intact. You are Iron Jack, and that means something.”
“Don’t blow smoke up my ass, Ori,” I said, balling my hands into fists. “All that is really pretty language, and it’d look real good on a headstone, but the thing is, I really don’t want to die today.”
“Then don’t,” she answered. “You don’t want to die. None of us do. Fight, Iron Jack. Fight and win. Be the thing of legend. Be the thing that they fear, the thing the Shadow fears. Do you want to go back home, to see your family? Earn it.”
Well, there really wasn’t much more to be said. The fact was that Iron Jack, the one I played, would rush in and take care of business. He still could; I had all that power at my fingertips. With my Sanctity full, my sword was fully powered. I could do this. I could be Iron Jack just like Aaron had truly been Flexmaster.
“Okay,” I muttered and grabbed my sword. “I’ll prove it.”
17
With my sword back in play, I felt like a brand new man. It’s strange how much a good weapon can do for your self-confidence. Scanning the area with my blade in hand, I started to reconsider not believing all of Ori’s compliments about me. I mean, she was the authority on such things, after all. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was a kickass warrior who would easily do what everyone else had struggled with. Maybe I’d stand where everyone else fell. Maybe my face would be on the money here, and they’d carve my likeness into a mountain for future generations to see.
The message boards would go crazy with that.
“They’re flunkies,” I said from the tree line, looking over at the Level 5 idiots (judging from their look, they were Knight or Barbarian Attuned) moving back and forth between the tents that made up the Shadow’s outpost. I had my Sword of Judgment out, holding the blade out in front of me and finally feeling like the Iron Jack of old if, you know, old meant three days ago. “What the hell is The Shadow thinking setting morons like this up at his place? They’re definitely not striking fear in the hearts of anyone.”
“It’s an outpost in the dead center of nowhere,” Hecate answered. “We told you, it’s just to mark territory. Besides, there at least two dozen of them.”
“I’m Level 50, Hecate,” I answered with just enough smugness. “I got these douchebags by 45 entire levels. Not to mention my trusty ogre and angel sidekicks. We got this.”
“I didn’t realize I was someone’s sidekick,” Ori said, glaring over at me.
“I meant that in the best possible way,” I said, smiling at her. “Like, you know, how Wonder Woman and Batman are Superman’s sidekicks.”
She moved toward me, pushing my blade out of the way with her hand. “While I’m more than happy to see a boost in your confidence, I don’t want to see eagerness get the better of you,” she said, looking me up and down. “You’re good, better than most, but those ‘flunkies’ as you call them, have something you don’t.”
“A face full of pimples and a girlfriend who won’t put out?” I said, still grinning. “Oh come on!” I added, reading the less than amused look on her face. “That was funny.”
“They can’t die, Iron Jack,” she answered sternly. “You can. The people the Shadow has assembled have no idea how real this battle is for us. They’ll fight with vigor and a lack of concern for bodily harm that will make them much more dangerous than they would be if their souls were placed firmly in their avatars. They’ll take chances because, to them, death is nothing more than an inconvenience. Trust me. I’ve seen it far too many times.” What did that mean?
I shook my head, pulling my sword back up until the blade was in view again. “You know what you’re not considering, Ori? There might be power in not knowing, but there’s much more power in actually being aware of what’s going on. I know what’s at stake here. I know I don’t get a second chance, and I know that you people need me more than you’ve ever needed anyone.”
“Not the humblest of sentences, but I see where you’re going there,” Hecate said.
“Of course you do,” I said, looking from Ori to Hecate and back again. “I’m playing for keeps.”
“That’s where your problem lies, Iron Jack,” Ori said, her tone solemn and low. “This isn’t a game. You’re not playing at all.”
I moved toward her, so close I could smell the floral hint coming off her hair. “I thought that too, at first,” I answered, swallowing hard, feeling the heat coming off her skin and finding myself really wanting to reach out and touch it. “But I was wrong. This place, this world, and the creatures in it; it has to be a game. Because games are what I do best. It’s real life I suck at.” A grin spread across my face. “Now let’s play.”
Quest “Hero of the Principalities” updated!
New side objective added: Confront the forces at the Shadow's outpost!
Without another word, I rushed out from the tree line and sprinted toward the outpost. It wasn’t my most gracious of moves, but whatever. I was feeling better now. I was feeling confident.
If these people were going to count on me to save their entire universe, I wasn’t going to let them down. No, not just that. I was going to dial this bitch up to eleven. I was going to have to be the cocky Iron Jack who fought first and asked questions never. I was going to be the dude who caught the eye of the Avenging Angels by being so brazen and badass, they had no choice but to allow me in. In short, I was going to have to take it to the limit and kill these bastards.
The aforementioned bastards caught sight of me pretty quickly, which didn’t surprise me given the fact that I was not only screaming but also wailing like a banshee running into battle.
My sword blazed with Holy Power as I ran, narrowing my eyes as I took in the four warriors who rushed toward me. Two of them �
� as I mentioned before – were Level 5. A third was Level 17 and, to my surprise, one of them was Level 32.
None of those would be a problem for me solo, but given their numbers, I was going to have to keep an eye out for Mr. 32. He might be able to sneak a blow or two in on me while I was dealing with the lesser threats.
Their Energy bars appeared overhead, as mine did, I was sure. This area mustn’t have gotten much action because every one of their bars was completely full.
The Level 5s brandished axes. They were even worse than the axes Hecate had strapped across her back. Definite beginner weapons; low-level damage, even for a direct hit.
Level 17 had a spear which, of course, looked a little more sophisticated. Still, it wouldn’t be much of a problem. Mr. 32 though, he had a sword of his own; a sword that looked eerily like mine though it lacked the blaze of Holy Power and the ornate Celestial script running up the sides. He was a knight, like me, but he was still no match for me...
Their names appeared over their Energy bars, but I paid them little attention. I had learned my lesson with Aaron. I didn’t want to know these people. They were nothing but cannon fodder to me. So, until I piled them up at the end of my sword, they’d remain 5, 5, 17, and good old Mr. 32.
They encircled me, moving like a well-oiled machine. Obviously, these guys were in contact with each other. They were likely spackled across the world, all communicating with each other via headsets and probably talking about how they were going to string my intestines out over the ground, despite the fact they were hopelessly outclassed.
Too bad for them, they had another thing coming.
I had been fighting for as long as I’d been playing. Even before the Angels, I cut my teeth on being as ruthless a killer as the game had ever seen. Which was to say, I knew how to attack, and I had a rhythm down pat.
Jerking backward, I swung my sword. It sang through the air, whistling as it drove toward one of the 5s. The level difference between us was astronomical, and every piece of gear he had was scrap metal compared to my carefully gathered armor and my blazing sword.
Outclassed in every way, it didn’t even take a special attack for me to down him in one swing, a 0HKO. There was a flash of light and a streak of blood as my blade passed through him.
Going glass-eyed, the avatar let out a gurgle before he exploded into glittering shards before his corpse was swept off to the Lake of Rebirth.
I spun back, knowing what was going to happen. When you attack one end, the rest of the team goes for the throat. It was predictable, but it was also human nature. I was expecting it ... 17 came at me first, with 32 hanging back long enough to get the lay of me.
He was probably their alpha guy, the one calling the shots and telling them where to go and what to do. I pictured him screaming “flank his left!” or some other equally annoying command that would prove useless in the end. 17 thrust his spear at me, which I dodged pretty handily. That gave me enough of an opening to slice at the guy’s gut, burning the bit of Endurance I had gained from killing the first 5 to turn it into a Knight Special, Rending Strike.
Your Rending Strike opens your opponent’s veins! He takes 878 Physical Damage, 9.178 Spiritual Damage, and is now bleeding! 42% Energy remaining.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to body him in one hit so leaving him bleeding out would keep the pressure on him. Maybe 17 would make a mistake under that pressure. Either way, it was damage ticking away while I dealt with other problems.
Deciding to take out the lesser threat first, I twirled on my feet, shifting focus back to the remaining Level 5. Swishing my blade through the air, I hit him dead on with a long strike that sent a blue streak through the air.
That was enough for him. Just like his buddy, he collapsed backward to the ground before breaking like so much cheap glass.
Feeling really good about myself and the decision I’d made, I readied to spin back around and deal with 17 and Mr. 32. Who the hell did they think they were anyway? I was Iron Jack, for God’s sake. I wasn’t a man—I was the man.
Overhead, I saw Ori flying, going after other members of the outpost crew, presumably the same thing Hecate had done. Grinning a little, I started to turn.
Arrogance and recklessness had decided that was the moment to stab me in the back. Literally in this instance.
First, there was a stabbing pain in my kidney, like someone had jabbed me hard with a pointy stick. Again, it was an apt description of 17’s spear thrust driving in. The sensation was dulled suitably under Iron Jack’s High Pain Threshold and the damage was minute.
17’s Lethal Thrust hits you! You take 4,382 Physical Damage! 82,618 Energy remaining.
But something else happened as well. A pinch started at my throat. It grew, and then I saw red.
Looking down, I saw a blade – Mr. 32’s blade – stick right through my neck. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
…well damn.
18
The sting of the sword amplified as I realized what had just happened. It morphed into a burning, searing pain that threatened to knock me out and leave me sputtering to the ground.
If this had been the real world – my world – it would have, of course, killed me. You don’t survive a knife in the throat where I come from and – if you do – you’re not quite sure you want to.
I wasn’t in my world though. This was Kingdom of Heaven, and I knew enough about that to know any blade wielded by a level 32 player wasn’t going to be enough to take me out with one strike.
Mr. 32’s stab hits (Critical Hit)! You take 22,632 Physical Damage! 59,986 Energy remaining.
Still, it hurt like a mother as he withdrew the blade from my neck. While I seemed to be made from Hit Points in this world, it sure hurt a hell of a lot more to be hit in some places than others.
I stumbled forward, away from him, my mind spinning as I tried to think about anything but the pain. That was one of the big differences in playing the game and living the game. If I had been on my couch like Mr. 32 here, I’d have had nothing more to worry about than a baby crying or the (very real) possibility of not having changed my shirt in three days.
I wouldn’t be worried about being able to focus. My eyes wouldn’t be filling with tears, and my throat wouldn’t be pouring blood in the most grotesque scene I had ever lived through. I could turn my attention to tactic and defense instead of dealing with shock, agony, and the anger that came with some dick wad shoving his sword through your windpipe.
Still, I had to get through this. Ori had been right, goddamn her ... I had been too cocky, too full of myself. Getting my sword back made me feel like I was back in the game, but she was right. This wasn’t a game for me. It was real, and I would really die if I didn’t get my act together.
Spinning back around, I narrowly parried another swipe from Mr. 32. He was feeling pretty proud of himself and probably wondering why a player of my level with my obvious experience would react so poorly and sluggishly to what – on his end – seemed like a pretty standard hit.
Maybe he thought I was losing my touch. Maybe he thought I was one of those douchebags who level up by going on killing sprees of lesser players or low-level NPCs. Either way, it didn’t matter. He didn’t know the truth. Like me with Aaron, he didn’t realize my entire life was hanging in the balance, dependent on how I proceeded. He wasn’t going to give me any leeway. Neither was 17. So I needed to deal with them the same way Iron Jack would have dealt with any lower level pricks who wanted to kill him. Swiftly and ruthlessly.
Slamming my sword against his blade, I knocked it out of his hand. Our blades may have looked similar, but mine had been recovered from a hidden treasure room of a dangerous dungeon. It wasn’t just a finely crafted blade; it was imbued with Celestial Power. Mr. 32’s, in comparison, was a glorified butter knife. I did him a favor by ridding him of it.
He looked up at me, a couple of daggers appearing in his hands as he switched out his weapon of choice. I rolled my eyes and continued. I
t was like this guy was modeling his armory after mine. What was next, a wooden spear for me to stomp on?
I wouldn’t give him the chance, of course. He had pissed me off, and the damage he’d dealt me had given me a hefty amount of Endurance, more than enough to return the favor tenfold.
Which could be lucky 17. The bleeding avatar threw himself between 32 and me, coming at me with his spear in hand. The damage from the bleed had given him enough juice to go for another Lethal (well, not so lethal in this case, but that was what the move was called) Thrust.
I readily dodged it, now that I was paying attention, and unleashed a series of three quick, devastating thrusts right into the gut of 17, the last one punctuated with a brief flash of blue light before impaling him.
Your Knight’s Flurry hits 17 three times! He takes a total of 20,323 Physical Damage and 31,872 Spiritual Damage! He dies!
Congratulations! You gain 1 Rank to the Knight Attunement!
Turning my attention back to Mr. 32, a dagger cut the air, nicking my shoulder as it hurtled past.
I realized Ori had another point from before. She had told me I was a very one-sided player, with all my attention and efforts going toward fighting skills and close range combat. If that was true (and I was really beginning to think it was), she’d have pulled her hair out watching these goons. None of them had any variety. If Mr. 32 would have had a bow and arrow at his disposal (or another long-range weapon that wasn’t as limited as his daggers), he could have attacked me from a distance while his comrades swarmed me. It would have drained enough of my Energy so that when he finally managed to get me with his sword, it might have been enough to finish me off.
He didn’t though. Like me, Mr. 32 had put all his eggs in the “I really wanna be a cool knight” basket. Which was an awesome basket to play around with if you surrounded yourself with players like I did. Knights had their place, for sure, but so did wizards, mystics, and healers. This dude had found himself with a top-heavy group, and it was about to prove his undoing.
The Skull Throne: A LitRPG novel (Kingdom of Heaven Book 1) Page 12