This meant that finding Trixie in the real world without knowing where he lived was harder than finding the right John Smith online. And the Cartel didn’t even know Trixie’s surname. Which was why they had most likely decided to use their authority to get local kingpins like Diego Aranzabal in on the search.
“Then the question is, what did Diego know?” Hairo said, giving voice to the obvious. “Because last night’s operation didn’t solve our problems; the Cartel will investigate what happened and be sure to question those close to Aranzabal. What do they know?”
It was morning and the security officer had brought not only his own people to the meeting in my quarters, but the leaders of our workers too, Manny and Gyula. Harold Furtado, Trixie’s grandpa, had been invited so he could learn why his grandson was locked up. But he turned out more useful than anyone expected.
“I know that shithead,” Harold groaned at the mention of Diego’s name. “He volunteered with the peacekeepers and deserted with his weapon. Then he set up a gang of rejects like him and started stealing. Our little guy thought he was practically a hero, used to dream of being in his gang. The girls went crazy for him too, did their damnedest to get into his bed…” The old man drifted off into thought, mumbling through toothless gums.
“Mr. Furtado, we know all this,” Hairo said, losing patience. “Do you have anything to say about the matter at hand?”
“I do!” Harold said, bringing a fist down on the table. He was shaking with nerves. “What I just mentioned is water under the bridge. Things of the past. People thought of Diego like a Robin Hood figure while he was helping the people. My ass! The power went to his head. That bastard decided pretty quick that he was as good as a god, and anyone else was just dust under his feet. His people could shove any girl he liked into a flyer in broad daylight… or boy, and they didn’t care about the age. Anyone who complained or tried to stop them would take a short step and a long drop out of a flyer, to save on bullets. The gangsters got so drunk on power that nobody could say a word against them. Who could stand up to ‘em anyway? We have no weapons, and…” The old man spat on the floor. Maria, who had just cleaned it yesterday, shot him a burning glance and went to get a cloth. “Alright, I’ll get to the point. Diego’s people paid us a visit. They looked around, asked questions. They were looking for my grandson. I can’t speak for everyone, but nobody told ‘em anything! Take me out of here feet-first if I’m wrong.”
The old man’s words gave us hope. But the security officers decided not to rely on hope alone. “Naivety hasn’t saved anyone from disappointment yet,” Hairo said.
“We need all of Cali Bottom,” I said and yawned. “We need to bring all the locals into the clan, make them followers of the Sleepers and…” I yawned again, this time so wide that my jaw cracked.
“And have them sign mental contracts,” Hairo finished for me. “We’re best off looking for recruiters among those already in the clan.”
“We don’t need recruiters,” Manny shook his head. “The people will come themselves. Just whistle…”
Once everyone had gone, I staggered to my bed and collapsed into it without getting undressed. I was asleep before my head touched the pillow.
I managed to get three hours of sleep before Maria woke me. I hadn’t asked her to — I’d been planning on getting a good long rest before another long game session. Rubbing my eyes, I sat down. She understood by my baleful stare that an explanation was required.
“Sorry, Alex, Morales’s orders. Breakfast, studying, training.”
“Studying?” I said, not believing my ears. “How can I study when I have so much to do?!”
“Your mom contacted Hairo. I didn’t hear it myself, but Roj is a witness. You know, Hairo has been through hell and back, he’s a war veteran. But your mom yelled at him so hard that he rolled over like a puppy!” Maria giggled. “You need regular meals, proper sleep, a schedule and studying — so that’s what you’ll get, Alex Sheppard!”
She was obviously imitating mom. She also told me my parents had extended their vacation. Until further notice, until everything was settled. The police chief of the Silver Harbor lunar resort had given them round-the-clock security, and they’d become something of celebrities in the hotel. The parents of Scyth himself!
I could be as angry as I wanted, they still didn’t let me go back to sleep. They dragged me off to exercise and then made me study! But in my heart, I knew mom was right. And Hairo and Maria too.
After breakfast, I spent the time torn from sleep and Dis on the lessons I’d missed. I knew I had a lot of catching up to do, and it seemed doubtful I’d manage it even if I worked hard every day right up until the citizenship tests, but the important thing wasn’t to actually learn everything, it was to pass the intermediary exams well enough to get through to the graduation exams. And my own personal method of study would be good enough for that.
In my school years I usually quickly and easily grasped the point of lessons, and it soon became clear that the teachers focused hardest on anyone lagging behind. Material that took me quarter of an hour to learn might have taken Tim, the captain of our football team, an entire lesson. He tried to memorize every one of the teacher’s words. I just figured out the gist. So maybe I missed a lot, but I could still catch up to my classmates before the citizenship tests.
With that thought, I entered my virtual office. Twenty-one subjects, each with at least ten missed topics. You can’t grasp the ungraspable, so I decided to take it step by step: fully study the program for one subject, then move to the next.
And I started with modern history, from the coronavirus pandemic of the twenties to the present day. Just fifty years ago, there was no unified government. The UN had neither the power nor the resources that it has now; it was just an organization of a hundred and ninety-three member states. It was hard to believe that people lived in countries with separate governments back then, with their own laws and even their own currencies! And in many of the countries, the laws existed only on paper. They declared all people equal, but the reality was different. Now every schoolchild knows that humans can’t have equal rights and privileges, because everyone wants the very best for themselves, and not everyone can have it. If one person lives in a palace, then everyone else wants the same, and how do you get that many palaces? Someone has to get the materials for them and build them. And if everyone was equal, then why did some have to work and others didn’t? When this all became obvious, citizenship categories were introduced. But more and more, I realized that this system too was far from fair. How was Liam any better than my dad? What value did Elizabeth’s nephew provide to humanity?
I also learned that at the start of the century, resources — in particular scientific ones — had been spent mostly on garbage. Science was financed by corporations, and scientists often studied not what was important for society as a whole, but what interested those who funded them. And they came to predictably biased conclusions. All this led to humanity running face-first and totally unprepared into the coronavirus pandemic…
I fit the time until World War III into three hours, even read almost all the information. It takes half as long to read as it does to listen to lectures. Video illustrations and infographics rounded off the picture, giving faces and colors to people and events.
Then the training started. Roj took me to the gym and made me run. Well, not exactly made me — he was still working for me, after all. Nonetheless, he declared in a commanding tone that a run would now be my daily morning ritual. He could dream; I’d be flying out to the Demonic Games the day after tomorrow.
After training, I ate again and then finally climbed into my capsule.
Chapter 27. Enemy Allies
THE OCEAN ROARED and the waves beat against the cliffs framing the beach. I woke up on the island where Rita and I had been. Conscious of all the work I had ahead of me, I decided to spend a few minutes going through my mail.
The first message was disconcerting, both in the na
me of its sender and its content:
Sender: Vista, level 9 human
Hey, Scyth!
Oops, or is it Alex? I don’t know what to call you. Remember me? I’m sure you do! You tore my dress, Crag stood up for me and the guards took you away! I just wanted to say that I’m not mad at you at all! I’m still in the sandbox, but it’s awful boring here. By the way, when we were hunting you… It was Crag’s fault, he made me do it!
Your girlfriend Tissa (she’s really up herself, by the way!) outright refused to help me when I asked her to put in a good word for me, so I thought I’d just write to you.
Can I join your clan? I promise you won’t regret it! ;-)
I had no idea how Vista’s message had gotten through the filters and reached me. Maybe because she was still in my enemies list? I didn’t answer her — just removed her from the list and deleted the message. It reminded me of Crag — that’s who I needed on Terrastera!
Another message had made it past the filters, from my childhood friend Kirk, thanks to a code word he used in the subject. I met Kirk and Aaron back in grade one, and the year before last he and his family moved to the Pacific Farms. Kirk had left the sandbox and wanted to meet, and he didn’t even mention that he knew about my status.
I answered that I’d love to see him. I really did miss Kirk. In our trio, which included me, Aaron ‘Robolover’ Quan and Kirk, he was the connecting link between all of us, not the most popular boys in the school, and everyone else. Then Kirk left, and Aaron… It got harder to talk to him after that incident with the sexbot. He distanced himself from me, realizing that our interests were diverging more and more each year. Aaron spent days on end in virtuality, conquering some fantasy Six Kingdoms or playing god in a premium mini-game, while I was more interested in terraforming Mars and Venus, visiting nearby stars.
There was nothing else of interest in my mailbox. Apart from a notice signed by the elvish king Eynyon, letting me know that I had been accepted for entry to the Demonic Games.
Not long ago, I subscribed to the Commonwealth Herald, spurred on by Bomber’s constant reminders that it was useful to read the news on occasion. I opened the paper version from my mailbox and started leafing through the latest edition.
The newspaper wrote that, as the publisher has learned, the undead now had a new leader: dark elf Eileen, who had declared the Lakharian Desert a domain of the undead and threatened punishment for anyone who ventures further than five miles south of Vermillion into the desert. Bad news.
I contacted Hinterleaf right away, fearing that Eileen had freed the other legates using Call of the Supreme Legate.
“What have you been doing all morning, Scyth?” the gnome chided me. “Eileen Waters has already held a press conference. Mogwai and the other legates can forget about her help. In Eileen’s words, it’s not in her interests to free the Elites, and she and Mogwai not only disagree, but ‘have fundamentally different views on the future of the faction.’ Do you know anything about that?”
“Maybe. What are her plans?”
“We don’t know. The analysts believe she’s going to level up solo. The girl has hit the jackpot and now plans to use it to the full, they say.”
“The Nucleus has probably given her a quest to turn the strongest sentients undead. It’s pointless looking for them among players, they can refuse. That means she’ll aim for top-tier NPCs.”
“Got it. I’ll tell the analysts and Horvac. I’m going to meet with the king, I’ll tell him of the danger to him and his generals too. I think Horvac will be able to get an audience with Emperor Kragosh.”
“Alright. Is the temple in the desert ready?”
“Yes, my people are there already. If Eileen shows up there, the Astral Trap will activate. That’ll hold the legate until one of the Awoken arrives. But I doubt she’ll turn up. She knows how easily you imprisoned the others, so she’ll be careful.”
“I hope so. Then we’ll meet at the temple. As soon as I consecrate it to the Sleepers, I’ll make you guys priests. Three people from Modus and three from the Travelers, plus old man Otto Pecheneg. Will you tell the others?”
“Already have. Yary, Sayan and Blackberry are here with me. Your fan girl here is begging for another spot…”
“Please, Scyth!” I heard Blackberry say in the background.
“Not now,” I cut her off.
I had twenty-three free spaces for priests, minus seven for my three ally clans — I could have made Blackberry a priestess too. But I knew that if anyone was getting the full Unity bonus, better it be my people. All the same, I promised her:
“Once we have a third temple built, we can talk about it then.”
I teleported to the Lakharian Desert right after that conversation. The ghostly figures of two Modus battle stars hovered outside the finished temple. The minimap showed them as friendly targets. The group leader, Quinto the bandit, Sprinted toward me.
“Hey, ally!” he said, coming out of stealth. “All’s quiet.”
“Hi, Quinto. Are your leaders here?”
“Almost… Ah, here they are!”
Yary, Sayan and finally Hinterleaf all jumped out of a portal nearby. Yary spread his arms, hugged me and clapped me on the back.
“Glad to see you, Scyth, my friend!” the large man boomed.
Then the others greeted me the same way. I didn’t expect such a warm welcome and felt mixed feelings: mistrust and satisfaction. My positive feelings won out when the Travelers appeared from new portals and all queued up to embrace me too. Pecheneg was the last to arrive.
Leaving the future priests at the foot of the dune, I went off to consecrate the temple to Tiamat.
Just like with the other consecration rituals, as soon as I placed my hand on the altar, a system message appeared:
Level 1 Unconsecrated Temple
Consecration requires an adept with a status of at least ‘priest.’
Identified: Initial.
Requirements met.
All sensation left me once again as the Sleeping Gods pulled my mind into the great nothing, where I was surrounded by boundless living nebulae: Leviathan, Abzu, Kingu, Tiamat and Behemoth. Showered with their attention, I returned to the temple and consecrated it to Tiamat.
Second Temple of the Sleeping Gods, dedicated to Tiamat
Level: 1.
Initial (1/1): Scyth.
Priests (16/39): Patrick O’Grady, Manny, Tissa, Dekotra, Ranakotz, Grog’hyr, Ryg’har, Movarak, Ukavana, Sithanak, Yemi, Francesca, Babangida, Sarronos, Kromterokk, Kusalarix.
Adepts: 8927/28561.
Faith points to next temple level: 1/28561.
Build a third temple and consecrate it to one of the Sleeping Gods to support more adepts.
I didn’t get any rewards for erecting the second temple; the title of Behemoth’s quest ‘Three Temples’ spoke for itself.
A dragon’s face appeared on the altar and I felt Tiamat’s presence. I turned around and saw her, blinded by her beauty. The Sleeping Goddess, now returned to Disgardium, stood frozen for a few minutes, her arms spread. Streams of Faith rushed into her from the altar. Once at full strength, Tiamat opened her eyes and ran a finger across my cheek.
“My Initial… Your new allies are children of Nergal and Marduk. The parasites will not release them so easily. Do your future priests fathom what awaits them for betraying their faith?”
Unable to tear my eyes away from the stunning goddess, I had fallen into something of a trance, then started awake when the kind, but powerful voice broke the silence.
“They say they have weighed the risks, Sleeper, and know the consequences.”
“Very well. For us, all are one, and we do not object if a sentient follows the precepts of other gods. But those two… No, they will not forgive. I see something worries you.”
“Yes. I thought of asking Behemoth, but since you’re here now… Something strange happened to me. I had a vision of the future in my own world. Twice. Divine Revelation descended o
n me, a talent that I have only in Disgardium. How? It’s impossible for that to happen in the other world! I don’t even think there are any gods there, because there’s no magic!”
“Magic is the breath of the gods,” Tiamat agreed. “Once full of the faith of sentients, the Gods both Old and New breathe out into the world that which you call mana. That is what gives strength to your spellcasters.”
“But then how did I see the future?”
“You are right and wrong, Initial, when you say that there are no gods in the world you come form. There are none such as Nergal or that troublesome girl Fortune. Perhaps there were, but without faith, they have doubtless disincarnated. However, there are gods that are not limited to a single world. Do you know what separates the Old Gods from the New? The sentients themselves created the Old Gods. In the dark times, when they couldn’t explain the phenomena of nature, they invented divinities. Good, evil, indifferent — all sorts. It is you mortals who created Fortune, believing that luck is not blind chance, but something tangible, something that can be gained and lost.”
Path of Spirit (Disgardium Book #6): LitRPG Series Page 28