The War (Play to Live: Book #6)

by D. Rus

  I frowned. Was this really the great Unconditional Good?

  I reached into my inventory and at the same time looked through my inner interface slots; the perfect way to get a mild schizophrenia. It was hard to find anything in the spatial pocket by a different means as its size was limited only by the owner’s maximum weight load, however ridiculous that might sound. So in my case, that was about one and a half tons.

  I scooped up a big handful of Demonic Soul Crystals. That’s what the Doorkeeper Seraphim always wanted for opening a portal to the Seventh Heaven. For over two years, the quest giant had been standing here even in the harshest weather, awaiting his hero. But of course, no hero came, for I had a monopoly on farming Inferno.

  "I can pay you," I said. "Help me find the soul of the one who has given her life for another!" I opened my palm and showed him the crystals wrapped in volcanic flames.

  The Seraphim swallowed hard. He tried to look away, but his eyes would not obey and were glued to the desired stones. I swear by all the gods, he actually craved them. An archangel fighting temptation is quite a sight!

  "Leave!" he replied in a flat voice, placing his hands on the hilts of his swords and showing me his last face – a lion’s face.

  Getting turned down three times in a row, the animal faces, the hidden aggression, and losing hope all finally prompted me to resort to brute force. I threw the precious crystals into the sea. The Adamant Gauntlet slipped on my right hand on its own. Its blades glittered threateningly in the sun, reflecting in the quivering water. Twitching excitedly, the artifact whispered passionately into my ear: "By the right of the strongest, kill and take what’s yours!"

  The archangel shuddered. A tear flowed down the leonine face. "The heart of the Sun God…I had served him in other worlds, before Chaos poisoned his soul…He gave in to weakness and began to crave power. Now you’re heading down that same path. The artifact will change you, and you will change this world. Another world will be destroyed…"

  Drip. Another tear rand down the snow-white tunic. It crystallized, becoming an uncut diamond with unknown properties, then disappeared in the icy waters of the Baltic Sea.

  I looked at the gauntlet of indestructible and omnipotent adamant on my hand. Will this nugget really turn all of AlterWorld into a black hole one day?

  The muscles in my forearm tensed up against my will. The gauntlet was calling me, pulling me forward, trying to determine the right signals to send to my brain by trial and error. The artifact craved to claim another victim and draw one step closer to its initiation. One day, it would find the key to my soul, and I would become its mute puppet…Truly I fear what I have created!

  Closing my eyes, I clenched my fist as hard as I could, picturing myself to be a 100-ton industrial press. I have spawned you, and so I shall destroy you!

  I overcame all physical limitations. My muscles ignored the body’s signals to stop and applied unbelievable pressure. That same thing happens to mothers who lift cars off the ground to rescue their children from underneath.

  Mind over matter. My wrist got deformed as it crushed the adamant along with its own delicate flesh.

  Will over pain. The adamant blades pierced my palm and cut my fingers. But the realization that I was doing the right thing stilled my fear and froze my nerves.

  "Stop…Enough…You’ve destroyed it…" a muffled voice reached my altered consciousness.

  Blinking away the colorful spots before my eyes, I closed the frightening interface alerts: crits, injuries, mutilation, and the inability to control my right hand. And they say it’s impossible to kill yourself…Fools!

  I staggered. My HP was dropping rapidly due to blood loss. I threw the crushed adamant into my bag and hobbled over to Hummungus. Clutching my maimed hand to my stomach, I felt the silk ribbon that the nameless nurse had given me instantly get soaked in blood. No Band-Aid could heal an adamant cut.

  I was in a hurry to get home. I’d get five clerics to check me and have them cast a Great Healing every minute. Maybe after a month of such treatment, the bleeding would finally stop and the wounds would skin over. As long as my tendons healed, I’d be fine. I’m too young to walk around with a paralyzed hand like a stroke victim.

  I came to my senses when Hummungus roared and licked me in the face with his hot tongue. It turned out that I hadn’t made it back into the saddle, but fell on my knees in the cold water, holding on to the bear’s harness with my left hand.

  But how did I stay conscious for so long? I should’ve bled out by now and gotten respawned in my chambers…

  Only after thinking this did I feel the Seraphim’s burning hot hand on my shoulder. I turned around with effort.

  The archangel was standing there with his eyes closed, whispering a prayer and growing paler by the second. His mighty wings became like trees in the fall – a light breeze tore out his snow-white feathers, making them twirl all around us before they settled on the water.

  Who would yield first? The Seraphim, or the wound inflicted by the divine metal? Both at the same time…

  My wrist was swollen, covered with ugly scars and lumps where the bones had knitted poorly. But I could move it again! And not just barely, but fully as always. Plus, my arm strength increased. I realized this when I caught the archangel as he fell into the water.

  Panting, I dragged the shaking Seraphim onto shore. His brothers stared at me with wild eyes, but they didn’t dare interrupt the ritual. It was getting colder. Frost appeared on the sand. The volume of concentrated mana was insane. I decided it was time to get out of there.

  The archangel was heavy as a block of lead and generous as an old church-going lady. He gave everything he had and even slightly more. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw that the Seraphim had managed to grab a Demonic Soul crystal from the bottom of the sea. I guess even the winged have a greedy pig.

  His skin being as pale as his wings, it was easy to see that the archangel blushed. He felt horribly ashamed, but he couldn’t just leave the precious crystal.

  Wrapping his wet feathers around him, the Seraphim whispered: "It’s priceless…The battle against Darkness is taking place in many worlds at once. We’re losing our brethren – they are either killed or taken captive. And we can buy our brothers back only with these crystals. One crystal – one angel. And you…you flung them in the dirt."

  I sat down on the shore next to the mighty Seraphim who was soaking wet like a nearly drowned kitten. The freezing water trickled down from our clothes and flowed back into the sea. I noticed that the water was rising. The island with the arch had grown noticeably smaller, and it certainly wasn’t because we shed a few tears.

  I reached into my inventory again, this time like a cheater – that is, without untying the bag. I found row seven, slots 41 to 49. These contained eight stacks of twenty crystals each. I took out the contents of one slot. I would’ve given more, but my greedy pig would bite my arm off at the shoulder. "Here you go. Save your brothers. I think I’ll go now. I also have someone to save. I only wish I knew how…"

  The angel gasped. This was a gift he could not refuse even if I had asked for his own deincarnation in return. The math was simple; twenty for one.

  However, I hadn’t asked for anything at all, and this rendered the situation unpredictable. How would the Great Balance settle it?

  "This is too precious a gift…" the Seraphim whispered, hypnotized by the sight of the crystals.

  Was something personal at stake here? Did he have a girlfriend in the demonic torture chambers? Or a teacher perhaps?

  "Our superiors will not approve. We are not allowed to become so deeply indebted to a Dark one, especially one so influenced by Chaos…so I…I will take this debt upon myself!"

  He bit his lip as he mustered up determination as if about to ascend Golgotha. Finally, the angel nodded decisively. "Yes! This is right!" Lowering his voice so that I could barely hear him, he looked me in the eyes and said: "My true name is Uriel. I was the one guarding Heaven. And I
am in your debt."

  It was my turn to shudder, and not from the cold. Was I really sitting next to a real archangel in some frozen puddle in a buddy-buddy way? But I guess it wasn’t that surprising. The winged creatures are real, and as long as we have faith in them, we see them. And we weren’t short on faith at all.

  Uriel read my mind and smiled crookedly. "I’m not quite real. More like a faint shadow rocking in the wind. This isn’t an original avatar. After the perma phenomenon had been discovered, one of the church filiations managed to force the release of a new game patch, which involved the canonical renaming of top angels. Then the hierarchs visited. They spent hours talking to the game ragdolls and vainly trying to instill the spark of life in us. And after that, the first players came to Seventh Heaven…"

  The archangel smiled at the memories while I thought about Fuckyall. He was the one to whom the Fairest One had given the Seventh Heaven portal scroll. I had no clue what sort of achievements led to it though.

  After I calmed down a bit, I nodded slowly. "I acknowledge your debt. I’ll call you Uri so as not to stir up the people. All right?"

  The Seraphim chuckled. Either he was actually familiar with Russian cinema, or maybe this name just sounded funny to an angel. Who knows the minds of thousand-year-old creatures and their avatars?

  "All right. And now, allow me to pay some of the debt, for this burden is already weighing down on me and making it hard to spread my wings. What is the name of the one who has given her life for another?"

  "Mona Lisa!" I said excitedly, then realized something else. "And Taali…And Olga…"

  "Give me their faces!" the archangel demanded with an incinerating gaze, saving me from further soul-searching. "Think of them! Show me their essence, not the masks!"

  Olga…Her sweet, melodic voice, eyes full of sympathy, her sobs over the phone, her smooth little hand in mine. She had given me hope and the chance to attain eternal life.

  Taali…Short-tempered, proud and sensual. Coal black hair, the tattoo of a rose jerking before my eyes during our moments of ecstasy. One must put debts before personal happiness. She was the one who had painted the virtual world in bright colors and made it truly complete.

  Lizzie…She thanked me in every way she could. She protected me like I was her own child, giving away what had been given to her. She had set an example with self-sacrifice and awakened the old Max in me before the Feudal Lord and Leader could take over completely. Forgive me, girls…

  "Corporal Mona Lisa," I said distinctly as I mentally sent the Seraphim the myriad of images; the heated battle when the laughing Drow was spinning and dancing with her blades; the staring contest as the child of matriarchy resisted every order I gave; our exhausting fight in bed.

  The archangel chuckled and closed his eyes as he reached somewhere high up with his mind. I couldn’t understand his actions, but on an instinctual level, I could feel the opening of a channel connected to something incredibly grandiose. It was like being out in a snowstorm and then suddenly stepping inside a warm house, sitting down before the fireplace, reaching to it and inhaling the scent of shish kebabs inside the roaster. The height of bliss.

  I didn’t get a chance to luxuriate in this place of happiness; the Seraphim sighed in disappointment. "We don’t have her. She’s in the Great Nothingess and barely responds to her own name. She has almost forgotten…I could use the bond of two creatures in love. This bond lasts the longest. However, you’re not very attached to her, and all she has left is waste and ashes. I’m sorry, but the divine attack destroyed the source of her power and what she used to shield herself from the deadly plasma."

  I shuddered and bit my lip. How could I hide the truth from an archangel? Yes, I never loved her…I bonded with her, found pleasure in her company, basked in her adoration. And tried not to think of the future.

  A rebellious thought flashed across my mind: Maybe it is better this way? Half of my clan mates were drooling over Lizzie. Praised be the gods if she had forgotten me. I would just marry her off to a high-ranking officer, give her a decent dowry and take the whole affair as a life lesson.

  The bedhopper and the acquisitive man stirred deep within my soul: All broads are mine, as is their virginity! I had to make an effort to suppress my alpha male instincts. Then I nodded decisively. "So it shall be! Pull her out!"

  The Seraphim gave a sad smile with a hint of irony and shook his head. "Doing everything alone…I don’t have the strength for it right now, and after it is done, I’ll have no rights to it. We must pay for evertying. The Great Balance will make me pay the highest price, and perhaps grant you a generous award for your good deed."

  I tossed my head in perplexity. Did he say alone? "Where and how can I reach into the pool of souls in the Great Nothingness?"

  Uri shrugged. "All you have to do is wish for it. Really, really wish for it and never doubt. And of course you have to have the right to do so, otherwise it won’t work. To make things easier, find a place where you have power and do it there. And now…"

  The arch behind us gave a thundering sound as two more mighty Seraphims came out of it onto the island.

  "Get outta here!" Uri said in a completely different tone and, grabbing me by the scruff of my neck, threw me into the freezing Baltic Sea.

  The bear roared furiously, but fell silent upon my abrupt "Stop that!" command, then ran up to me and gave me his massive head to lean on.

  "The darkie is leaving anyway," I heard the angel say to his comrades. "Now’s a bad time to get into a fight as we might risk ruining the ritual."

  The others murmured something, then I heard Uri’s voice again: "Yep, killed one of them…Look at its astral seals and start herbal tea before bedtime, or the shadows from your nigthmares will wake the entire Heavenly City."

  Spitting salt water, I mentally thanked the Seraphim. We’d get even some day, goddamn crafty fella, for we all live forever.

  Struggling up onto the bear, I pondered over Uri’s words. A place where I have power? I think I know one! Come here, scrolls! Let’s jump home!

  But I never got a chance to cast. I was still flipping through the hefty parchments when I suddenly heard a series of thundering sounds and jerked my head up, my eyes scanning the blurred horizon.

  Bang-bang! Bang-bang! Somewhere far, far away, someone was firing a gun. The rate of firing indicated that they were very professional.

  Sungoddammit, I was a terrible ranger! I just couldn’t figure out where the sound was coming from. It was just somewhere, give or take a few feet.

  As if to give me a hint, a red signal rocket shot up into the sky in the distance, leaving a thick trail of smoke. I see it! Hang on, whoever you are! Hummungus, let’s go!

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Atlantic Ocean. "Ivan the Terrible" submarine, class SLBM Borei 2, hull No K-575.

  Commodore Valeri Shatrov was sitting in his chair on the bridge and angrily chewing on the mouthpiece of an empty pipe. It wasn’t easy having to hide like a helpless fish when your motherland has given you the most modern weapon – 24 ballistic missiles, each with a megaton capacity.

  His role was to spend months swimming in the undercurrents by the shores of potential enemies, lurking in a zone of silence in order to pose a real threat and be able to start an attack of retribution. He went round and round underwater, hiding from the watchful satellites, the powerful radars of anti-submarine planes, and the automatic sonars of the coastal defense.

  "Ivan the Terrible" had carefully crept through the entire Atlantic. It slowly crawled through the cracks, used the big ships’ engine noise as cover, launched off-line imitators and spent days at the lowest possible depth.

  Commodore Shatrov was sure that the 600-foot-long submarine could be spotted only with the naked eye. Three billion of the nation’s rubles were well spent. His K-575 was nearly perfect in every sense; twin-hulled design with a rubber anti-sonar surface, three-stage shock absorption, and active noise suppression and distortion means.


  But goddammit, this ancient vessel Virginia just came out of nowhere! She stayed right above the submarine, her radar scanning the area. She launched ECl buoys and discovery modules. She would then stop for a few seconds, using her military sonar to collect every single underwater sound. Her sonarmen were restless.

  The 200-decibel sonic booms could be felt within a thirty-mile radius. The sea creatures writhed in pain. The dolphins went deaf. The whales lost it and flung themselves out on the shores.

  The mouthpiece of the heather pipe crunched in the commodore’s mouth. Spitting out the pieces, Shatrov scowled. "Cocksuckers! You can’t do that to marine animals! We’re no more than humble guests out here in the ocean!"

  For clarification purposes, 150 dB is the sound of a space shuttle launch, 170 dB is a stun grenade explosion, and 190 is a guaranteed lung collapse.

  The sonarman said over the speaker: "Vessel’s signature identified. SSN-791 Delaware, class – highly modified Virginia. Captain – Rick McGrotton, armament – 4 torpedo tubes, 533 millimeter caliber, plus a couple Tomahawk missile launchers."

  The XO nodded with content. "This old girl’s no match for us, we can sink her any time. And she deserves it; heavy sonars are prohibited by the 2028 environmental protection convention."

  The commodore frowned. "Americans have never ratified it. But you know what…"

  Shatrov finally made up his mind. After all, he was the lord and master on the submarine. He even had the right to conduct a nuclear attack. "Plant those next-generation nanorobots. With God’s help, they’ll lead the colony to base where they have some quite modern strategic rocket carriers besides this old junk."

  The flaps of the external store clusters of the submarine opened soundlessly, and a few surprisingly fast octopi shot out. These were the artificial "Gremlin" terror-hive carriers. A giant, heavy crab scurried along the sand, following them. It was a mobile dock with huge amounts of nanorobots in sleep mode and a mini charger for the octopi.

  But before the hives could reach their destination, certain events took place and time seemed to fly.