Received: 1 Granis
“Granis is the monetary unit of the players,” Archibald immediately explained. “It is used in all the worlds. Objects, mercenaries, services, auctions: everything operates on granis.”
“If I am killed, will I lose the money?”
“Dude, first live to the point when this becomes relevant for you,” the cat laughed. “You’ll die in the Academy: what do you need extra knowledge for? I’ve taken too long with you anyway. Any more questions?”
“Yes. You said that personal information is the utmost secret. Then why did you reveal it to me?”
“So that you’d know who purged your family. Who killed your mom, your sister, your friends and neighbors. Your dog too! Who completely wiped you out from the world of the living. You want revenge, right?”
A dark veil of hatred flooded me again. If I only had the strength I would have jumped on the cat without a second thought.
“Remember that feeling, brother, once you come to. Hold on to it and don’t let it fade. Then you’ll have a chance to make it. See you soon!”
The last thing I remembered before fainting were the two cords of fog shooting from the cat’s paws and snaking towards me.
Chapter Two. Departure for the Academy
“TAKE THIS ONE, brother!” Archibald’s voice came through the fog, filling my mind: returning me to the horrible nightmare called reality. " One more body for the Academy."
“What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?” an unfamiliar voice asked tensely. I tried to open my eyes to refute the accusation of sickness but the body would not respond. No matter how much I tried I was unable to move a single muscle. The only thing available to me in my current state was the game interface, so I opened the map and stared at my current location with an angry grin. The Citadel. I had been delivered to the right place.
“Information on the purge overwhelmed him, so I had to stun him."
“What?!” The exclamation of surprise from the unknown interlocutor was so natural it became clear: Archibald had committed a serious violation. “It is prohibited to use magic on uninitiated players outside the Citadel! You are facing…”
“I know the rules, brother,” Archibald interrupted. “Don’t bother; I will report myself to the head of the Order!”
“Fine, brother, you may leave him. What stun did you use?”
“A complete one. With a mental block.”
There was a long pause.
“The Head of the Order is expecting you,” the Catorian’s interlocutor said after a while, having gathered his thoughts. “As you leave, send a couple of recruits my way. It would do them good to see how to remove a full stun.”
“But what’s the point? If a miracle occurs and Yari returns from the Academy, why should we present a new player to the Mages? He sent Devir for respawn. That wacko already submitted the request to surrender the offender to him. It’s much simpler to send this loser to the Academy stunned to guarantee that he kicks the bucket, and inform Devir of his sudden demise. It will be simpler for everyone.”
“Is that why you broke the law and used magic?”
“Sharda, I have no faith in him. He had a great chance to save himself but he refused. Had he become a vampire and had Garbital to back him up, Devir would not have been able to do anything to him until the quest was voided. It would have only taken a year! But no, Yari decided to remain human! Besides, even as an NPC he was a no-name nobody! Average development stats, game addiction, asocial, no quests or hidden targets associated with him. Nothing at all! Had he perished in battle the System would have erased the memory of him in as little as ten years.”
“You forget – he managed to send a mage to respawn.”
“I looked into that case. If Devir had known Monstrichello’s nature he would have won that battle. Without a scratch. But he realized too late that Monstrichello’s immune to magic, and just as he was going to crush him with a tank Yari appeared with his machine gun. Not even him – just his torn-off limbs. The soldier, covered in shit and piss, was already dead by then. Do you think a player like that has any chance against one of the most promising headhunters?”
“Why do you think the head of our order would not speak for Yari? Or the head of the people?
“Sharda, do you believe in that yourself? Gerhard’s already up to his ears in work; why would he need trouble with the mages? As for Bartos… That’s not even funny. He couldn’t care less about his race.”
“I understand your turmoil, brother, but I will repeat the old truth – you need to have faith in the best. Who knows what is in store for this recruit? Maybe wiping him out would cause a war with the Mages. That’s good reason to give the kid a chance: why not?”
“Do whatever you want,” Archibald said, but there was obvious disdain in his voice.
That tailed beast had already written me off and was going to get rid of me! I’ll kill that bastard.
“If you want to get him up and running, you are welcome. They will be sent to the Academy in three hours. I am not going to teach him. If you want to bother with a future corpse, go ahead. I’m off to see the Head.”
“Don’t forget to send me the recruits,” Sharda reminded him, and then my consciousness decided to take a break again…
“Does everyone understand the sequence?” The first thing I heard after returning from “the nowhere land” was Sharda’s question. “If you try to remove a complete stun using the standard method your patient will become a vegetable. The body will awaken but the mind will remain blocked. So first we bring back the spirit and only then work with the body.”
If I read Sharda’s tone correctly, at this time I had the great honor of serving as a guinea pig used to teach young inexperienced neophytes. Forgetting that my body was not obeying me I clenched my fists and tried to open my eyes. I had no desire to serve as a museum exhibit. However, as soon as my eyes opened incredibly bright light hit them, as if a piece of directly aimed sunlight was set right in front of my face. I shut my eyes reflexively, turned away and pressed my palms to my face — the light was blinding even through closed eyelids.
“Had the mind not awakened,” Sharda continued to explain, unperturbed, “our patient would not have made such a frightful face and tried to cover himself from the light. He would not have cared. Remember the main rule when using magic: after applying any ability you must check the result. Because even a harmless treatment can result in a horrible death if, for example, ulcer stitches in the stomach dissolve together with a blood clot. Anything can happen.”
“Sir Shardaganbat, may I ask a question?” a male voice asked in an ingratiating manner, making it sound extremely unpleasant. “So it means that our abilities can misfire at any moment? Is this determined by something, or does the game itself determine the probability of failure?”
“That’s a good question,” responded Sharda, or Shardaganbat, as he had just been called. “When you learn your first spell or ability, your spell book will update. It will have the inscription with the ability’s name, description, requirements for use; there will be a lot of things noted there. Also, it will have a column showing how many times you have used the ability. This is a basic parameter that determines the probability of success or failure when using the ability. So the more you train the lower is your chance of failure.
I moved my hands away carefully and opened my eyes. The room had brick walls and was small, more like a cell; besides me lying on a sort of a dais there were five other creatures. Some oddity looking like a huge upstanding monitor lizard with six limbs, of which four were legs. A pointy-eared youngster that looked like a human, but was most likely an elf. An old guy so emaciated it begged the question why his body was not falling apart in pieces. A gnome about a meter tall wearing steel armor and – this surprised me most of all – Fagov! Lance-corporal Fagov, damn him! The huge two-meter bruiser with the brains of a five-year-old kid! How did he get here?”
“What, did I look like a mummy too?” Fagov asked
, unwittingly providing me with a couple of hints. First: the former lance-corporal was addressing the gnome, thus revealing who was the boss here. Second: he was not the one who had asked about the abilities. Third: Fagov is a Paladin just like I am!
“Yes,” Sharda nodded turning towards the thug. “People players look like skeletons after the transformation. Now back to our question. Besides the frequency of use of the ability, there is another important thing: Energy. It is known by a variety of names: mana, magic points, internal reserve, fury, vigor, but the core meaning is the same: this is what constrains you. The more Energy you have, the more powerful and precise your spells will be, the lower the chance to make a mistake when using the ability, the stronger player you become. Never disclose this value to anyone. Your life will depend on this!”
“How can one increase it?” the elf-like guy asked, which showed that he had asked questions before.
“Now this is not a good question, recruit,” Sharda frowned. “At this time you should be asking just one thing: how do we bring Yari here”‒the gnome casually waved his hand in my direction‒ “back to normal. Paladins don’t make distinctions between people, elves, gnomes and other races. As Paladins we see a brother and his problem that needs to be resolved. So take this weakling and go off to the medical office. In an hour I will be waiting for you in classroom 45. All five of you. We’ll be preparing to leave for the Academy.
The gnome turned around and went out of the room unhurriedly, leaving me alone with the four future Paladins.
“I don’t remember being carried around,” the old man rasped. His voice suited his appearance – squeaky, shaky and barely audible.
“You s-s-simply looked less-s-s s-s-scary,” the walking lizard replied in a rumbling and somewhat sibilant voice. “Yari does-s-s look like a s-s-skeleton. Let’s-s-s go, we sh-sh-shouldn’t keep th-them waiting for us-s-s.”
“I think I’ve already seen this roadkill somewhere,” Fagov frowned, looking me over from top to bottom.
I was looking at the alien and fascinating creatures, but there was no mental excitement from seeing these wonders. Nothing like “Wow, a talking dinosaur!” or “OMG, an elf!” Even the amazing presence of Fagov failed to dispel the sudden apathy once I remembered Archibald’s “motivating” words: “If you want to bother with a future corpse, go ahead.” The gnome never objected to that, just underscored that my death could be useful for the Paladins. Neither the Catorian nor the gnome believed that I would be able to stay in the game! They just wrote me off as scrap! What’s the point of caring about someone who’s about to kick the bucket? Bastards!
I regarded without interest as the monitor lizard grabbed me with cold slippery fingers and heaved me over his shoulder seemingly effortlessly, as if I were a sack of flour. I did not have the strength to lift my head and look around, so all that I could do was to stare at the lizard’s grey mantle and the green tail sticking out from under it.
“What, another human?” a voice asked in surprise and I was dumped onto a couch. The white surroundings were blinding me, so I closed my eyes. “Why are there so many Paladins spawning this month?”
“I don’t know,” the elf responded. "Sir Shardaganbat ordered us to deliver Yari to you, to put him on his feet. We are to leave for the Academy in an hour and a half… Is that even realistic? Is it possible to put THAT on its feet?”
I noted to myself glumly that in addition to Archibald and Devir I had acquired one more candidate for a heart-to-heart: the elf. Amazing, but the fantasy writers in my world were not lying about the arrogance of these creatures. Just after a couple minutes of knowing him I already disliked the elf. I know that there are plenty of jerks among people, but this long-eared one definitely had it coming for “THAT”.
“An hour and a half?” the healer grinned. “During that time you can treat anyone. And definitely put him on his feet if you know how to do it right.”
Lightness and weightlessness washed over me. Pain and strain that felt like permanent companions receded, leaving merely a bitter memory. Such a drastic change forced me to open my eyes forgetting about the blinding light. But it was not there anymore. Only blue shining was emanating from the hands of another shorty. Looks like the local gnomes had some sort of fetish for steel armor: the doc was also covered in metal from head to toe.
“I remember! You’re the crowbag from my platoon!” Fagov exclaimed joyfully. “Homie! You run for the Paladins too?
“Do you know him?” the old man frowned.
“Sure! He’s the one that popped off the mage! With the machine gun right through the skull. Bam – his head just popped! But wait! You died too!”
“So Devir is your doing?” The doctor looked at me with interest. All I could do was nod in agreement.
“Now that makes it clear why there are so many Paladins. Chosen one, guest, minion, immune and fighter. A jolly crowd.
“Huh?” Fagov’s face demonstrated such utter confusion that the gnome deigned to clarify.
“The guest is the reptilian who came to our Citadel in accordance with the agreement between Gerhard van Brast who is the Head of the Order of Paladins of Earth and Shlikandr de Zak who is the Head of the Order of Paladins of Versala, the reptilians’ home planet. If I recall correctly, brother, your name is Sartal, a level 3 minion.
“That’s-s-s right,” the reptilian nodded making a funny swing with his tail.
“Immune — brother Monstrichello, level one. Was discovered during the area clean-up following Devir’s silly attack. He is completely unaffected by magic. The System sometimes might spring a trick and create a unique one like that. Was recommended to become a player by the search team, and he chose Paladin class. Is that correct?”
“— Hehe! —Fagov’s face broke into a moronic smile. “Always wanted to be a Pal! I ran for them in Warcraft! Once they offered, I – right at once! I’ll be a tank!”
“Minion,” the gnome continued to explain ignoring Monstrichello’s words. Damn! What a name he picked! “brother Nartalim from Earth. Level 3 minion. Elf.”
“There are elves on Earth?” I was unable to hold back an exclamation of surprise.
“They are much more numerous than people!” Nartalim snorted arrogantly, nodding to everyone present. “I am talking about players. Elves play the dominant role in ruling the Earth.
“What the hell?!” It was Fagov’s turn to be surprised. “I’ve never seen no pointy-eared freaks in my TV!”
“Every day, you mor…,” the elf squinted at the frowning doctor and corrected himself, brother Paladin. “You did see us every day!”
“The guilded youth!” It was a random guess on my part but from the elf’s grinning face it became clear: I hit the nail on the head.
“True, Yari. We are the true rulers of Earth! We …
“Let’s leave Earth’s affairs aside,” the gnome butted in, stopping the discussion. “You chose Light, so follow it to the end. Next is the Chosen one. This month it’s brother Dietrich. Human. Level one.”
The old man bowed his head in greeting.
“And, finally, warrior. Yaropolk. The human who sent Devir for respawn, thus obtaining a ticket to our world. Full team for departure… Amazing. Every month the Citadel sends new recruits to the Academy. Normally just one, sometimes two and very rarely three. But five all at once… I have never seen that yet.
“Are you like, really from Earth?” Fagov continued to stare at Nartalim, stunned, ignoring the doctor’s words. “Why didn’t you tell us nothing before?”
“Yari, explain it to him,” The elf did not bother to answer, turning away from Monstrichello. “It seems you figured it out.”
“Do the explaining yourself, brother. You have all you need for that: a head, a mouth, a tongue. Or do you use them for something else?” — I quipped and immediately faced an intense stare from Nartalim. Damn him! The elf’s rating with me went down another point even though that seemed impossible. He was used to get it all at his beck and call in his
previous life, and now after becoming a player this bastard continued to treat everyone with disdain, issuing orders left and right.”
“The boy forgot his place?” The elf’s eyes were lighting up with anger.
“You have any complaints, golden? Monstrichello and I become players on our own, not because of daddy! While you are nothing without his money! You are a twit! Like hell you’ll graduate from the Academy!” It was a random blow, but the elf’s widened pupils told me that it struck home!
“An initiated player always graduates from the Academy, Yari, remember that,” the doctor somehow appeared between the elf and me, stopping the squabble. For some reason the gnome was looking angrily at me, and not at the elf, as if I were the one that had gone too far. Among the present company there are only three initiated: Nartalim, Monstrichello and Sartal. Neither you nor Dietrich passed the initiation, so treat your senior brothers with respect!”
“Speaking of finishing the Academy,” Nartalim blurted out spitefully from behind the doctor’s back. “I will miss you!”
We walked to classroom forty five in complete silence. Nartalim felt like a winner, striding in the front with his head proudly raised. Amazing, but Monstrichello and Dietrich walked close to him holding back just a little. As if they were the entourage ready to jump to fulfill any whim of their ruler. It seemed like they had been together for a couple of days and the elf managed to subdue both the old man and the oversized kid. Sartal minced his steps behind the three but in a way that made it clear – he was not with that company. At the same time the lizard maintained some distance from me to show that he had no intention of joining me either. The reptilian was keeping to himself.
The Beginning (Dark Paladin Book #1) LitRPG Series Page 5