Viridian Gate Online: Books 1 - 3 (Cataclysm, Crimson Alliance, The Jade Lord)

by James Hunter

  “Go,” I shouted, waving him toward the rope with my free hand. “You’re right, I can’t risk losing my snarky sidekick. Once you get topside, tell everyone to scram. When these guards see the hole in the ceiling, they’ll connect the dots and be all over you guys. So move your asses.”

  “What about you?” he asked, voice suddenly serious even as he stowed one of his daggers, slipped his foot into the loop, and clenched the rope with his free hand.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I shouted as the first guard hurdled the couch, his knobby cudgel swiping at my head. “I’ve got a plan—I’ve always got a plan!”

  I retreated a step, avoiding the blow, then dodged a sloppy follow-up front kick. The thug’s boot whiffed completely as I darted left, opening him up to a nice little counterassault. I stepped forward, shooting in with my hammer. Instead of jabbing up and killing him on the spot, I aimed low, thrusting the hammer between his legs and hooking his back foot with the curved spike jutting from my weapon. One firm tug pulled him off his feet and put him firmly on his back. I planted the toe of my boot into his temple, dealing a painful, disorienting blow, but not a deadly one.

  One down, but another was already squeezing through the doorway, and there were plenty more behind him, all lined up like excited schoolkids waiting for a turn at the roller coaster. No way I could take them all. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. I glanced back and saw Cutter vanish through the hole in the roof, pulling the rope up behind him. The next guard lunged forward, wielding a shortsword, aiming to impale me through the throat. Had the strike landed, it almost certainly would’ve been a critical hit. Might’ve killed me outright.

  But, it never did land.

  The world shuddered to a stop as I triggered Shadow Stride, the tip of his blade only inches away from my throat—almost close enough to shave. I gave the guy a nod for his effort, then slipped around him, clambered over the couch partially blocking the doorway, and headed for the exit. Nikko was perched above the entryway, clinging impossibly to the wall, preventing anyone from leaving as though she were already anticipating my plan. This was her first real test drive, and I was thoroughly pleased with her performance. True, she didn’t have the raw power and brute strength of Devil, but sometimes you needed the feather instead of the meat cleaver.

  I slipped out of the door without a hitch and ducked into a narrow alley running beside the Bloodletter. My countdown timer expired a heartbeat later and the Shadowverse expelled me, forcing me back through the ether and into the material realm. Everything came crashing back to life and motion. Nikko screeched in defiant triumph, followed by the clamor of bewildered shouts—courtesy of the guards, no doubt. I craned my head back, searching the night-dark skyline for any sign of the others. I spotted them several buildings over, creeping from rooftop to rooftop, using a set of rope tethers, courtesy of Amara and her bow.

  Well, that part had gone according to plan, at least.

  I pressed my back up against the wall, then turkey-peeked around the corner as a flood of winged goons surged onto the street, their wooden clubs raised, their eyes roving the cityscape. Part of me wanted to just stay hidden and creep silently away, but I needed to buy the others as much time as I could. Quickly, I recalled Nikko from the Bloodletter, stepped from the shadows, and promptly lobbed an Umbra Bolt high into the sky. The violet magic streaked across the heavens like a shooting star in reverse; it didn’t hit anyone, but it sure got me noticed. I gave the thugs a lopsided grin and a wink, before turning tail and bolting.

  Leading them deeper into Ankara and away from the Lucky Rooster.

  TWENTY: Celebration

  It took me an hour to shake the Bloodletter bouncers, but by then Abby had called to tell me everyone else had made it back, necklace in hand, without so much as a hiccup. After an hour of backtracking, I rounded a sharp bend and finally caught sight of the Lucky Rooster. A small knot of tension leaked away like snow melting in the noonday sun. I was exhausted from the long day—my eyes heavy, my head fuzzy, my body achy—and ridiculously hungry. My stomach rumbled at even the mere thought of food, a not-so-gentle reminder that it’d been ages since Cutter had scored us those Kabis on the way into Ankara.

  I pressed a hand against my gut, trying to stifle the pain, and pulled up my active effect screen:

  <<<>>>

  Current Debuffs

  Tired (Level 4): Skills improve 20% slower; Carry Capacity -35lbs; Attack Damage -15%; Spell Strength reduced by 30%

  Thirsty (Level 2): Health, Stamina, and Spirit Regeneration reduced by 25%

  Hungry (Level 3): Carry Capacity -50lbs; Health and Stamina Regeneration reduced by 30%; Stealth 25% more difficult

  Unwashed (Level 2): Goods and services cost 10% more; Merchant-Craft skills reduced by (1) level

  <<<>>>

  Yep, there was the problem—I’d simply pushed too hard for too long.

  That was easily one of the worst things about VGO: the game Devs actively punished players for not eating, drinking, and sleeping enough. Generally, I didn’t mind, but considering I was in Death-Head mode and the time was slipping away second by second like sand through my fingers, I was supremely annoyed by the feature. Nothing I could do about it, though. As much as I wanted to just push through the night, I needed rest. With such significant debuffs stacked against me, I’d be virtually useless anyway.

  Resigned, I shoved my way into the Lucky Rooster.

  A roar rolled over me like a wave—a cacophony of rowdy cheers, good-natured hooting, and thunderous applause. I flinched back in shock, reaching instinctively for my warhammer as I tried to figure out what in the heck was going on. The noise quickly coalesced into a drunken chant that left me less worried, but even more confused.

  “Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack!”

  My name carried on the crowd’s lips as people pumped fists into the air and slurped at pitchers of golden mead. I frowned and honestly considered just triggering Shadow Stride and getting out of Dodge—I didn’t want any part of whatever fresh craziness was going on here. But then I saw Abby tracing her way through the crowd, a huge smile splitting her face, her cheeks flushed from drinking. She quickly closed the distance and slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me deeper into the building. The crowd only chanted louder, folks toasting me as I passed, or slapping me good-naturedly on the back.

  “What is all this?” I asked, leaning into Abby so she could hear me over the cry of the crowd.

  “They’re celebrating, obviously,” she replied with a giggle.

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. Obviously.

  “Cutter turned in Hakim’s amulet,” she said by way of explanation. “He was in such a good mood, he canceled the debts of everyone here and is offering drinks and food on the house until sunrise. Apparently, Hakim’s really, really attached to that necklace.” She shook her head, then laughed. Unbelievable, that laugh said. “Come on, Hakim’s waiting for you in the back room. Apparently,” she said with a sly grin, “he wants to thank you personally. Plus, I think since it’s technically your quest, you’re the only one he’ll disclose the Citadel’s location to. After that, though, it’s party time.” She shot me a friendly wink, then prodded me gently in the ribs.

  Yep, she’d definitely been drinking. Not that I minded.

  “Ah, it is my friend, Grim Jack!” Hakim boomed—standing, arms stretched wide—as I entered his private room. “The most daring thief in all of Ankara. A true mastermind. Already tales of your exploits reach me.” He bent over, swaying slightly on his feet, and gestured at his ears. “Flying monkeys, people say. Black shadow magic. Explosions and daring rooftop escapes. It is a legend in the making, and that is saying much since this is Ankara—the Crystal City and the home of a thousand legends.” He paused and fished the necklace we’d stolen from beneath the edge of his tunic. “And best of all, Yusuf will feel the sting of this victory for years to come.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, a deep rumbling thing, while he grabbed at his prodigious gut. Even
tually, his cackling subsided. “But enough of my gloating,” he said, absently wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye. “You did the impossible and I’m sure you’re ready to celebrate. Celebrate and feast!” he shouted, taking a stein from the table and hoisting it into the air. Red wine sloshed over the brim, but Hakim didn’t mind. He killed the drink in one hearty chug, then unceremoniously tossed the mug aside.

  “As you can plainly see, the festivities are begun,” he said, “so let us finish our business quickly. Here is the information I promised you.” One pudgy hand shot into his robe, pulling free a worn leather scroll bound with a bit of twine.

  I gratefully accepted, earning myself a flood of new notifications:

  <<<>>>

  x1 Level Up!

  You have (5) undistributed stat points. Stat points can be allocated at any time.

  You have (3) unassigned proficiency points. Proficiency points can be allocated at any time.

  <<<>>>

  Ability: Shadow-Spark

  Ability Type/Level: Passive / Level 4

  Cost: None

  Effect: Umbra unlocked. All Shadow-based skill stats are increased by 3% per Shadow-Spark level (Current: 12%).

  <<<>>>

  Skill: Stealth

  Skill Type/Level: Active / Level 12

  Cost: 20 Stamina

  Effect: Stealth 25% chance to hide from enemies (+16.8% augmented Stealth).

  <<<>>>

  Skill: Backstab

  Skill Type/Level: Active / Level 9

  Cost: 20 Stamina

  Effect: A brutal backstab attack can be activated while an adventurer is in Stealth. 7x normal damage with a knife; 5x normal damage with all other weapons.

  Effect 2: 9% increased chance of critical hit while backstabbing.

  <<<>>>

  Skill: Blunt Weapons

  Skill Type/Level: Active / Level 14

  Cost: None

  Effect: Increases blunt weapon damage by 31%; increases blunt weapon attack rate by 5%.

  <<<>>>

  Skill: Medium Armor

  Skill Type/Level: Passive / Level 7

  Cost: None

  Effect 1: 19% increased base armor rating while wearing Medium Armor.

  Effect 2: +1.5% additional increased base armor rating for every piece of Medium Armor worn.

  <<<>>>

  I quickly read over the list of skill increases, then closed them one by one and scrolled over to my quest log:

  <<<>>>

  Quest Update: Hakim’s Revenge

  Congratulations! You have successfully retrieved Hakim’s necklace—all without killing Yusuf or his guards. In appreciation for your cunning and skill, Hakim, owner of the Lucky Rooster, has provided you with the location of the Cult of Arzokh! Additionally, each of your party members has received 15,000 EXP!

  <<<>>>

  Map Update

  Congratulations! Your in-world map has been updated with a new location: Entrance to the Citadel of Arzokh.

  <<<>>>

  Quest Update: Path of the Jade Lord

  Find the Citadel of Arzokh and retrieve the Belt of the Jade Lord, which will reveal the resting place of the final set piece: the Amulet of the Jade Lord. According to Hakim, the Citadel is in a set of long-abandoned tunnels, located beneath an Affka den in the Bath District of Ankara. Hakim believes there is almost certainly a secondary entrance, utilized by the Winged Disciples, but you and your party will have to go trudge and battle your way through the decrepit tunnels.

  Quest Class: Ultra-Rare, Secret

  Quest Difficulty: Death-Head

  Success: Uncover the Cult of Arzokh Citadel and retrieve the Belt of the Jade Lord.

  Failure: This is a Death-Head Quest; if you die at any point before completing the objective, you automatically fail and the quest chain will forever be closed to you!

  Reward: The Belt of the Jade Lord; Final Clue for the Amulet of the Jade Lord; 40,000 EXP.

  <<<>>>

  I smiled as I read over the updates.

  Inch by inch, we were making progress, but as I read over the quest update, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease in my gut. This was definitely the most difficult quest I’d ever faced and the complications kept mounting. I mean, sure, we finally had the location of the Citadel, but my first complete day was almost gone and we still didn’t have the second quest item. And now? Now we had to find this Affka den—whatever that was—and battle our way through an underground labyrinth to locate the cultists. This wasn’t like the easy hack and slash missions I’d faced earlier on, and the pressure was weighing on me.

  Abby patted me on the shoulder, sensing my mood. “Whatever it is,” she said with a rueful grin, “try not to think about it too much. Not tonight, anyway.” She paused and stole a sidelong glance at me. “Come on, I’ve got something I think will cheer you up.” She dragged me back into the main hall, up the stairs to one of the balconies, then through a door which led deeper into the Lucky Rooster. Instead of a room, I found myself in a short hallway lined with more doors, each numbered.

  Guest quarters.

  Abby kept walking, though, pulling me toward a door at the end of the hall, which let out into a small courtyard framed by sandstone walls. It was an open-air atrium, filled with lush greenery and a riot of blooming flowers in giant ceramic pots. Above us, the stars smiled down, twinkling in a cloudless sky. Someone—Hakim, or his lackeys more likely—had erected a large table, loaded down with food and drink of every assortment: slabs of beef, chunks of seared lamb, thick pita bread, bowls of spicy stew with thick brown gravy. And that was only the tip of the food-iceberg. There were also cakes, pies, and plates piled with chocolate.

  Not to mention all the hooch. Honey Mead. Copper Ale. Even Law-jiu, from the Storme Marshes.

  A small fire in the middle of the courtyard burned merrily in a stone-ringed pit; all around it were my friends. Cutter, Amara, Forge, Vlad. They looked happy—huge smiles as they laughed and joked, as they ate, drank, and mingled. Even Amara, who perpetually had a stick lodged up her backside, appeared to be enjoying herself. The conversation faltered as Abby and I stepped into the wavering firelight, followed by a round of drunken cheers and raised glasses, sloshing over the brim with mead.

  “The man of the bloody hour,” Cutter slurred drunkenly, before issuing an eye-watering belch. “Our fearless leader. Somebody get this man a drink. The sod deserves a bathtub full of mead.”

  I was hesitant at first, feeling annoyed and tired, ready to call it quits for the night and hit the hay, but then Abby pulled me close, her lips brushing against my ear.

  “You need this, Jack. We all do. Here’s the thing. We’ve been so worried about taking care of the faction, about dealing with Osmark, about all these crazy quests, that we’ve forgotten to have fun. To live life. I know things are tough right now, but we can’t forget what we’re fighting for, Jack. It’s this”—she swept a hand around—“the right to live in peace. To do the things that make us happy. To spend time with friends eating good food, drinking a little too much, and laughing late into the night. After everything that’s happened … Well, I thought we could all use a reminder of why we’re doing this. Why it’s worth it. So please, try to relax. For me, okay?”

  Reluctantly, I nodded.

  In a blur, I found myself in front of the fire, Abby on my left, Forge on my right, while Vlad shoved a hefty stein of golden mead into my hands and the party resumed. I killed the first glass of mead in a few gulps and quickly downed another, feeling a pleasant warmth spread out from my belly, suffusing my limbs and simultaneously loosening the tight ball of dread in my chest. Maybe Abby was right. Maybe we had been too preoccupied lately. With a few drinks in me, I grabbed a plate heaped with food and bulldozed my way through dish after dish while everyone talked and laughed and joked.

  At some point, Forge whipped out a guitar—more of a bard’s lute, really, but tomato, tomahto—and played some classic country songs while Cutter juggled a host of gle
aming black blades for our entertainment.

  The food and booze continued to flow, and after a few hours, everyone settled down around the fire, sprawling out on fanciful Persian rugs with thick, plush pillows. I plopped down, legs sprawled out in front of me, leaning back on my hands as I watched the fire dancing against the dark. Abby lay down, head resting on my thigh, staring up at the stars with her hands folded on her chest. “What do you miss the most about home?” she asked absently. “We’ve been so busy putting out one fire after another, there hasn’t been a lot of time to process what happened, you know?”

  I nodded. “Honestly,” I said after a second, “I miss the ocean. I used to go down to Mission Beach a couple of times a week, even in the winter when it was too cold to get in the water. I’d walk in the surf by myself. Just smell the salt in the air and watch the waves crash against the sand.”

  “I miss home-cooked Russian food,” Vlad offered morosely from across the fire. “The food here … It is passable, but what I wouldn’t give for a bowl of authentic borsht.” He grimaced and looked up. “It is beet stew, bright red, and filled with meat, potatoes, and a healthy scoop of smetana. Oh”—he moaned softly, lips puckered—“you dip a bit of rye bread in. It is heaven. Heaven. The food here, it is good. But made for Western tastes, I think.”

  “That’s really what you miss the most?” I asked with an arched eyebrow. “Beet soup?”

  “Da. And a glass of kvass on the side.”

  “You know what I miss?” Forge said, still fiddling with the lute. “Just about everything. I miss my truck—big ol’ lifted, cherry-red Ford. I miss catching a Sunday football game and tailgate parties. I miss going down to the stock show. There was this rib joint, called the Greasy Spoon, served the meanest pulled-pork sandwich I’ve ever tasted. Hell, ’bout the only thing I don’t miss is the traffic heading into Austin. Bumper-to-bumper bullshit all down the 35.”

  He paused and took a long pull of mead, gaze distant. “The thing I miss most of all? My girlfriend, Candice. She might be in here somewhere, Eldgard I mean. She was gonna make the jump, or try to, anyway.” He faltered, glanced down, and shook his head. “I don’t know what happened, though. Not exactly a search roster, and Eldgard’s a big damned place. I’ve posted letters on the personal message boards”—he frowned and shrugged—“but nothing so far. I can’t stop lookin’, but part of me thinks she’s gone. Dead.”