Janus and The Prince: A LitRPG Saga (The Nightmares of Alamir Book 2)

by Noam Oswin

  “Commander,” the guards saluted as one.

  High Eminent Hoplite seemed blasé toward their greeting. “Has there been anything of note worth reporting in regards to the prisoner? Any abnormalities or anomalies?”

  “No, sir.”

  Hoplite nodded. “Very well.” He turned back to her master. “I do not have to explain to you why we’re not going to open it and let her out.”

  Her master was quiet. It was odd, seeing him merely staring at his fellow High Eminent. Cynthia wondered what was going through his mind. She contemplated why High Eminent Hoplite needed to bring her master out here if they were not even going to see the Nightwitch. The only reason she could think of was foreboding

  “Distressing.” Her master said. “You are going to die, Hoplite.”

  The words shook her. She tried not to immediately lock her gaze on the boy, the fourteen-year-old. She failed. Hoplite did not try to deny the words. His blasé, half-lidded eyes seemed as careless as ever.

  “Yes.” Hoplite said. “I was the one who tried to kill the Nightwitch last, so I am the last one scheduled to die.”

  Cynthia’s heart started beating. She remembered the casualty reports. Each person died in some macabre, twisted, or exaggerated version of the same way they tried to kill NW401. High Eminent Hoplite attempted to kill her via the creation of his all-consuming gravity anomaly. That meant…

  Dear Saint –

  “You thorough fool.” Sophos cursed. Her master never cursed. “If a gravitational anomaly materializes and kills you, there will be no one to prevent it from destroying everything else.”

  “True,” Hoplite said. “Perhaps a neutron star appears above my head. Perhaps gravity crushes everything on Alamir into the size of a plantain. Or perhaps it merely inverses and propels everything off the surface and into the Great Beyond. Different possibilities. I am almost curious.”

  Dear Holy Saint –

  “You–” Her master took a deep, sharp breath. “Allow me to understand, we have ninety-four days to kill an indestructible Nightwitch, or face potential annihilation?”

  The High Eminent of War, Undisputed Master of Gravity, responded with a single word. “Yes.”

  For the second time, her Master cursed.

  “Also,” Hoplite continued. “There is another issue.”

  She did not like the sounds of that. Neither did her master. The High Eminent of Progress did not like things against progress.

  “I recall seeing a skeleton on the battlefield. A Stalker Skeleton. It created a golem of glass to deflect fire from Sacrosanct Rifles, and attempted to save the Nightwitch.” Hoplite said. “I killed it, and, of course, I killed the Nightwitch with it at that moment.”

  Cynthia furrowed her brow. Her master gave Hoplite an odd gaze.

  “Explain.”

  “No one recalls such an incident happening. From what I gathered, I never did such a thing. The skeleton never appeared. No golem was created. As far as everyone remembers, the Nightwitch had always been alone and no one tried to save her.” Hoplite tapped the side of his head. “I don’t believe my memory is corrupt. So it is more likely that only I have memories of that event because only I failed to be affected by the skeleton’s power. A power that potent could only exist if –”

  “If the Nightwitch named it.”

  Cynthia found the words slipping out of her mouth in horror. She rapidly covered them, wincing as she realized she spoke out of turn. Neither High Eminent Hoplite nor Sophos seemed to mind. For once, the stakes were so large that they overlooked her transgression.

  “Yes,” said Hoplite. “As the Discontinuity Advancement Protocols indicates, all minions and acquaintances must be eliminated. A named nightmare inheriting the power of their name-granter is not a new phenomenon. It would be remiss to spend so much time and effort eliminating the Nightwitch, only to turn around and realize several nightmares now have her power.” Hoplite stretched his arms into the air.

  “I’ve tasked the Seven Amendments on a search-and-destroy mission to hunt down this skeleton and any nightmares it may have encountered.”

  “Uninteresting. If you already have this under control, why mention it? A single named nightmare is the least of our –” her master stopped mid-thought. “Its name gave you cause for concern.”

  Hoplite nodded. “It did.”

  Cynthia tried her best to hide her ignorance. Her master saw through it regardless, and with a gaze, he explained. “Remember this, Cynthia, Nightwitches, and Nightshamans oft tend to name nightmares after their Anathema patron, or after Anathema patrons close to theirs.” Her master said. “A homage or tribute. A cycle. Through the names they give, we are capable of discovering who their patron is, and thus, how to effectively kill them.”

  “Hence, the reason I believe we might have some problems.” Hoplite said.

  Her master snorted. “What name could give you of all people cause for concern?”

  “Janus.”

  For the third time that day, Sophos cursed. “Fantastic.” Her master began to pace back and forth, his right hand placed underneath his chin. “We have a Nightwitch locked in stasis with ninety-four days of battery before you, and potentially, all of Alamir is destroyed. We also possess a probable Planewalker in the form of her minion. I would prefer to be informed of any other problematic situations before we begin searching for a solution, and are blindsided by a third difficulty.”

  Her master waited for several seconds. Cynthia was not sure what exactly he was waiting for. Hoplite let out a casual shrug. Sophos turned to stare at a seemingly empty plot of space, before clearing his throat. “Irritating. I can sense your presence. Show yourself and cease with the pointless subterfuge.”

  The silence that followed was awkward. Cynthia knew her master was irritated by the turn of events, but it was unlike him to begin addressing the empty air.

  “Ever the wily one, aren’t you Sophos?”

  The AAA guards stiffened at the sudden voice of a third party. The ‘empty air’ her master was regarding morphed into a simple dark shadow, the shadow changing and formulating into the shape of a woman. No, not just any woman. One of the most dangerous women that walked the surface of Alamir.

  Pochteca the Perspicacious, High Eminent of Espionage wore an annoyed expression. “One of these days, Sophos, I will find out how you always seem to know where I am.” The woman clicked her tongue and turned to Hoplite. “Hello, cousin. I’m hurt you didn’t come to me on this issue first.”

  Cousin? Cynthia’s eyes snapped back and forth between Pochteca and Hoplite. Pochteca’s hair was midnight black, Hoplite’s hair was golden blond. Her eyes were an unremarkable brown, whereas Hoplite’s eyes were a sharp glowing purple. I can’t see the resemblance.

  “Your free time is not spent making weapons of mass destruction, Teca,” Hoplite responded. “Soph was my first choice for a reason.”

  Cynthia came to realize that this was the first time she was in the presence of three High Eminents at the same time. Rarely ever did a matter occur which would put the governing leaders in the same place, and bar the Gatherings in which all ten High Eminents were expected to appear, there was very little that was serious enough to bring them together.

  A Nightwitch and a Planewalker seem to qualify…

  “Captivating.” Her master said blithely. “Ignoring Pochteca’s proclivity towards voyeurism of teenage boys, I do hope your presence adds some manner of value to this conversation.”

  The woman did not bother to deny the accusation. “I know how we can kill the Nightwitch.”

  It sounded almost too good to be true to Cynthia’s ears. Likewise, her master’s brow rose in clear skepticism of the notion. A Nightwitch that could survive being ripped apart down to the tiniest molecule of her existence was not something one could kill so easily.

  “Go on.” Sophos urged.

  “The Takumian Prince possesses a Flair that seemingly breaks down and absorbs physical matter before converting it in
to his life force.” She explained. “I lost several of my agents to that ability, of which I do not yet know the limits.”

  Sophos crossed his arms, scoffing. “Rubbish. NW401 has proven resilient against Hoplite’s gravitational anomalies. Do you somehow believe a Prince of Savages is capable of succeeding where he failed?” Sophos shook his head further. “Do you understand the political ramifications of what would happen if they did succeed? A Champion of Takum besting a Champion of Alhamis?”

  “I would rather be humiliated than dead, Sophos.”

  “That is where we differ, Pochteca.” Sophos declared. “Ninety-four days is ample enough time to formulate a counter-measure providing I possess the right tools. The Midwarfs at Jordstal have the best resources for the job.”

  Pochteca laughed. “And you would have us all place our lives into your hands? Ever desperate for a shot at heroic glory, aren’t you Sophos?”

  “No, Pochteca, I am merely capable of seeing a larger picture. The Savage Prince cannot help us because he has his own woes. Tell me, why did you think he came to Alhamis, his sister dressed like an exquisite whore?”

  Cynthia regarded her master. They’d had this conversation in passing, and confirmed it afterward. Sophos knew something, and from the irritated glower slowly growing on the face of the High Eminent of Espionage, Pochteca knew it as well.

  “Teca, am I missing something? Why did the Takumians come to Alhamis?”

  Pochteca crossed her arms, shaking her head, “A Floater will visit Takum in thirty days.”

  There was not much to be said about Floaters that was not already known. Cynthia could remember the last time one came to her country. She was four years old and watched as day turned to night. The sun vanished from the sky and a frigid cold settled in the streets for the weeks it remained. The High Eminent of War then was Lady Auxilia the Astounding. Cynthia remembered Lady Auxilia leading the charge skywards, with four thousand veteran AAA soldiers chanting battle-cries as they ascended towards certain death. Lady Auxilia fought with everything she had, and returned, one-handed, one-legged, battered, but victorious. Victorious, the Floater vanished, and the people of Alhamis once again embraced sunshine.

  Of the thousands that charged with her, none returned by her side. Lady Auxilia was exceptional, yes, but the Floater – the Floater was something else. It changed a courageous, domineering, valiant woman, into a jaded, embittered, psychopathic bully. No one could complain, when, eight years later, she was beaten into the dirt by a boy courteous enough to fight her with both hands tied behind his back, all while asking her if she had plantain chips.

  Freeing Alhamis from the tyranny of Auxilia was one of the reasons why the then seven-year-old Hoplite Hierophantasia was heralded as ‘Hoplite the Heroic.’

  “I see.”

  “If we send some of our men –”

  “Absolutely not.” Sophos interrupted. “We do not interfere in the Floater Visitation of another nation. The Gathering would never agree to such a ludicrous proposition.”

  “We do not have a choice. We need to consider alternative methods should your supposed genius fail to be up to the task.”

  “Utterly Wrong. This is an Alhamisian problem. Alhamis will handle this problem.”

  “A Tier 9 threat is a worldwide problem Sophos. Set your ego aside and understand that we need assistance.”

  “That is not your decision to make Pochteca. We shall hold an emergency Gathering, and when the consensus of all the High Eminents reaches its logical conclusion, we shall realize that the only reason you feel so pressed to find other solutions, is because you are terrified of the death of your only living relative.”

  Cynthia found it difficult to breathe. The tension between her master and the lead spymistress of Alhamis was suffocating. All the while, High Eminent Hoplite seemed blasé to the situation, casually staring on as if he could care less. Shouldn’t he care? This was his life they were talking about. This was his life and the fate of people of Alamir, and he stood, with those same, dull, half-lidded eyes as if there was nothing to be concerned about. Isn’t he scared of dying?

  “Teca, Soph,” Hoplite said. “This isn’t worth arguing over. I’m not going to let Alhamis be destroyed. If the ninety-four days end and we have nothing, I’ll put my hand into my chest and rip out my heart. If I cannot be revived, so be it. Once I’m dead, the problem is solved.”

  What bothered Cynthia the most was the casual description. There was no hesitation in his eyes when he announced it. No sign of worry. His half-lidded eyes did not seem to change when describing his favorite snack or describing his death. If anything, rather than apprehension, there was almost a sense of… acceptance.

  “Find me in my quarters when you two stop your lover’s quarrel. If I have only ninety-four days left, I don’t want to spend my time playing mediator.” Hoplite flicked his gaze over to her. “Soph’s assistant. Follow me.”

  Cynthia froze like an antelope caught before the basilisk’s gaze. She turned to her master, hoping that he would indicate otherwise, tell her to stay, but he gave her a dismissive wave of the hand, and nothing was stopping her from following the fourteen-year-old.

  Hoplite lead, moving away from the containment unit and she found herself following him, the echoes of her master and Pochteca arguing becoming fainter and fainter in the background. All the while, she followed the floating High-Eminent, who, for once, did not move at a pace too fast for her to match.

  “Cynthia, was it?”

  “Yes, your eminence?”

  “Did you know you look like my mother?”

  The question almost made her stumble. “N-no, your eminence.”

  “Soph knows. Teca noticed as well.” Hoplite responded. “Perhaps it’s one of the reasons he purchased you. He always sends his amanuenses after me, one after the other, as trophies or mentors in hopes that I’ll let slip a weakness to them. Confide in them. He’s been doing this since I was born.”

  Her master? Sending his amanuensis to Hoplite? “Why would Master Soph…?”

  “Because like most people in Alhamis,” Hoplite gave her the same half-lidded stare. “He’s afraid of me.”

  Cynthia swallowed nervously. She could not deny the accusation. She could not quite explain why Hoplite was so unnerving. There was just something off about him, and the casual manner he always exuded his power made things worse. Still, the accusation that everyone was scared of him could not be true, could it?

  “Your – your cousin, High Eminent Pochteca – she doesn’t seem scared of you. And I’m certain your other family –”

  “My family?”

  The interruption brought her to a halt. There was a crackle of something in the air. “My control over gravity started as a unique flair that activated at the moment of my birth. My mother, father and those assisting in the birth were ripped apart on a molecular level shortly after I left my mother’s womb.”

  Cynthia knew her face was pale.

  “You didn’t know.”

  “N-no, your eminence.”

  “Soph always tells his amanuenses about my birth.” Hoplite said. “He’d also tell them about my mother, trying to make them imitate her. I learned that when she was pregnant, she had a craving for plantains. Fried, roasted, boiled, mashed. It was the only thing she ate. Day after day, after day.”

  It was the first time she saw Hoplite’s eyes focused. The first time his half-lidded stare vanished. The first time she felt as though she were looking at someone else entirely. Briefly, for all of a few seconds, Hoplite was not the fabled High Eminent of War.

  “Your eminence! Commander General Hoplite sir!” an AAA soldier ran forward, saluting. “Lieutenant General Luxeme of the Seven Amendments has arrived on with a message on an urgent matter, sir!

  The trigger words were to identify him as his title. Your eminence. General Hoplite. His eyes returned to the half-lidded state. His expression back to that of detached apathy. Had she not been paying close attention, had her memory no
t been trained to pick up on such tiny micro-expressions, she would have believed that seeing Hoplite relaxed was a mere fabrication of her mind.

  “I have business to attend to.” He said. “Cynthia. I’d prefer it if you don’t die. You seem to be head-and-shoulders above all of Soph’s previous amanuenses, so I’ll leave you with a bit of advice.”

  “Yes, your e-eminence?”

  Hoplite’s form rose higher and higher into the air, levitating on his on merit, before giving her the slow, certain words.

  “Everyone in Alhamis lies.”

  Chapter 11: Ascension

  Hungry.

  Evaluating Evolution Criteria:

  Title [Genocidal] – Found.

  Title [Merciless] – Found.

  Title [Demiurge] – Found.

  Title [Commander] – Absent.

  Title [Demon Slayer] – Absent.

  Title [Wrathful] – Absent.

  Title [Lustful] – Absent.

  Title [Prideful] – Absent.

  Skill [Fear Resistance] – Found.

  Skill [Insanity Resistance] – Found.

  Skill [Mental Resistance] – Found.

  Any Intimidation Skill – Found.

  Any Magic Skill – Found.

  Any Active Grudge – Found.

  Kill at least 50 creatures as a Stalker Skeleton – Complete.

  Remain unharmed during your time as a Stalker Skeleton – Incomplete.

  Kill 50 Humans as a Stalker Skeleton – Incomplete.

  Kill 50 Monsters as a Stalker Skeleton – Complete.

  Kill 50 Demi-Humans as a Stalker Skeleton – Incomplete.

  Hunt down 10 Beings as a Stalker Skeleton – Complete.

  Evaluation Complete.

  [Bonus Criteria!]

  Kill a Nightmare One Tier Higher – Complete! (+5)

  Enslave a Nightmare Two Tiers Higher – Complete! (+10)

  [Calculating…]

  Evaluation Score: 33/20.

  You attained a perfect score required for evolution.

  You have overachieved the necessary score required for evolution.