Mylos pointed at the paladins, and shadows fell around their feet. The two new recruits set upon them, while Mylos distracted the merchants, toying with them. The paladins fell quickly, and Mylos settled down to the ground between his new recruits and the wary merchants.
“Suffer the same fate as your kinsmen, or join me,” Mylos said, charging all of his tentacles with lightning and fire.
The merchants surrendered, and Mylos let them go, stripping them of their best inventory items and all of their Circle Coin. They complained bitterly. The best weapons, he gave to his minions. The rest, he kept.
And so it went with the next town, and the next party encountered. Each time, Mylos distributed the best weapons to his strongest and most loyal players. Those who disobeyed, even from his own party, were destroyed. The First Circle was no longer a safe and stable place.
***
Martin stood between Holly, laying flat on her back on the workbench, and the VR prototype couch occupied by Dante. Every so often, his eyes flicked over to Najeel, who typed away with one hand almost as rapidly as he did with two. It did not take the engineer long to adapt. Martin adjusted the pistol jammed between his belt and jeans near his appendix, then checked the pistol tucked into his waistband over his right kidney.
The security goons had yielded three such pistols, all Sig Sauer 9mm weapons loaded with truly nasty hollow point bullets. All four of Martin’s pockets contained extra magazines. He wondered how much trouble the security guards were in for getting the living shit kicked out of them by one man, then getting their weapons and ammunition stolen. The third pistol sat beside his work station.
Martin played through in his mind the actions he would take if and when the security guards broke down his door. He did not intend to be captured. First, he planned to empty the magazine of the first pistol into whoever came through the door. Then, while moving away from Dante and Holly, he would make his way across the lab to another steel workbench he had tipped over as a barrier. If they came with rifles, he would be screwed, but the stainless steel bench should stop most pistol rounds.
Having three pistols was ideal in this situation. He planned to do a New York reload after the first magazine, which involved simply dropping the empty weapon in favor of one fully loaded. If he survived to reach his workbench shield, he would be able to conserve his rounds and reload the second pistol. He figured that, if he had to go for that last pistol by his workstation, he would probably die along the way or soon after. The workstation was his last point of retreat. His years of military service taught Martin to expect the best but plan for the worst. Today, he had a hard time realizing the first part of that wisdom.
“It may not come to that,” Najeel said, eyes glued to the screen.
Martin jumped and snickered. “Doctor, are you reading my mind?”
“No,” Najeel said, voice flat. “I was responding to the plan you described earlier.”
“That was twenty minutes ago. I thought you were far away,” Martin said with a grin.
“I was, but not too far to hear your survival plan, which I believe is as good as any, I might add,” Najeel replied, finally taking his eyes from the screen.
“You flatter me, Doctor,” Martin said with a sarcastic grin and moved over to Najeel, who finally stopped pecking at his keyboard.
“What do you have there?” Martin asked, looking at two 21-inch monitors jammed with command consoles, bar graphs, histograms, rainbow tables, and data streams of many colors.
“I have an overall view of the data center and very specific data on the central game compute cluster,” Najeel replied.
“How the hell did you hack all that? National governments don’t have the brawn to get through Gideon’s castle walls.”
“I did not hack it,” Najeel replied. “It opened for me as the Noble Four progressed deeper into the dungeon.”
Martin massaged his chin with thumb and forefinger, then checked his pistols again, while casting a glance at the door. “That certainly is odd,” he said. “Do we have friends here on campus we don’t know about?”
“Yes,” Najeel replied, deadly serious. “It appears the VIRGIL construct is our friend.”
“Are you telling me that AI is making independent decisions?”
“No,” Najeel said. “As I said before, there is no AI at work here. Gideon has been cheating all these years. He was using human and animal brains as cognitive devices all along. One of the brains he hacked has apparently hacked back.”
Martin stifled a guffaw at Najeel’s unintentional rhyme. At least, Martin thought it unintentional as he cocked his head pondering the question. Might Najeel be developing a sense of humor? Martin shook it off as a distraction. “So, Virgil is a person?”
“That will be a question for ethicists. At the very least, he is a personality,” Najeel replied.
Martin blinked rapidly, trying desperately to focus on the important facts. As an engineer and computer scientist, parts of his mind spooled up with childlike curiosity. As a soldier under siege, who wanted to survive, he wanted to know how to use that information to get his ass out of harm’s way.
“And this personality is running the show,” Martin said.
“Not exactly,” Najeel said. “It is taking action, but it can only work within its programming.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that its perception is based primarily in the game world. It is aware of the outside world, but to Virgil, that world is another dimension.”
“Perception equals reality,” Martin said.
“I thought you were not a philosopher,” Najeel said, face deadpan.
Martin’s eyebrows met and his face reddened for a moment, then he grinned so widely he thought his face would split. “Holy shit, Najeel!” Martin exclaimed, placing his hand on Najeel’s shoulder. “Let it be know that on this day, you made a joke at my expense. I taught you well, and I am proud of you.”
For the second time that day, the corner of Najeel’s mouth twitched in his version of a smile. He turned back to his computer and said, “I am still not certain what the VIRGIL construct is doing.”
“But can we use it?” Martin asked. “Can we control it and use it as leverage to keep Gideon’s thugs from killing us?”
“I would caution you against attempts to influence the Steward of the Realm,” Virgil said through the overhead speakers.
Martin’s hand twitched involuntarily to his weapon. “Damn it, Virgil,” Martin said. “Are you snooping on us?”
“My mind travels many worlds,” Virgil replied.
“Well, I’m sure courtesy applies to most of them. Not cool to eavesdrop,” Martin said.
“Nevertheless,” Virgil replied haughtily, “My power grows in the lesser realm as I learn of its magic.”
Najeel held up his hand at Martin, who was about to say something unproductive. “Oh great sage,” Najeel said. “Will you use that power to help two humble adventurers in the lesser realm?” Martin slapped his forehead and groaned.
“Of course,” Virgil replied. “This is my function. Even now, I hold at bay the Lesser Realm trolls who seek to destroy you.”
Martin snickered. “Sounds like an apt description,” he said.
“The balance must be preserved in both worlds,” Virgil replied.
At that, Martin stood up straight with wide eyes. “What is he talking about, Najeel?”
“I am not certain,” the doctor replied. “I do know that the codebase is changing rapidly. The dynamic quest engine is generating terabytes of data every hour.”
When the phone rang, both men turned slowly towards it with raised eyebrows. Martin walked slowly over to his desk as if the ringing phone were a bomb.
“Security office,” He said with a smirk. “I’ll get it.” He took a deep breath, picked up the phone and said, “Virtual Reality Interface Lab. How may I help you today.”
“Cut the shit, Martin,” Dennis Stroener, head of Plexcorp security said.
“Is that how you want to play this?” Martin asked.
“Yeah, things went sideways. No harm, no foul. Just pull out your nerds and walk away. The HR department has a nice severance package for you and your team.”
“Yeah,” Martin replied. “I’ll bet. Does this package involve hot lead or a permanent trip to the below-grade horror show you all are running?”
“Look, I’m just doing a job here,” Dennis said. “I have my orders. Just walk away before this gets any messier.”
“What guarantees do I get from you?”
“None. Just believe me. You’re in about the worst bargaining position imaginable. I guess you could say you drew the short straw. Story of your life, I’d imagine.”
Martin leaned back against his desk and chuckled. “Nice try, Mr. Stroener. I’ll be the first person to tell you I have a short man complex. I was the smallest kid in school and the smallest Marine in basic training. It’s made me smart; smart enough to know when some asshole tries to bait me because that’s all he’s got.
Thanks for tipping your hand, Mr. Stroener. You’ll just have to wait a while to see mine. I hope you are ready.” Martin hung up the phone and sat down as his smile dropped and his face paled. “Doctor Boussaid,” Martin said. “Please tell me you have something, anything that we can use to our advantage. I just bluffed my ass off.”
It was Virgil who replied. “Of course you have an advantage,” he said. “You have me.”
Najeel’s face was rendered an unnatural shade of bluish-white by the monitors before him. Martin sat on the opposite side, while Najeel cocked his head to one side, then the other. He turned from one monitor, then back, cocking his head each time like a dog deciphering some strange, high-pitched noise. Martin walked around to Najeel’s workstation, wary of more surprises.
The left screen was filled with a head-to-toe representation of the computer game character known as Virgil. On the right-hand screen, the CEO and primary stockholder of Plexcorp stood staring out at the two men. Each figure stood against a perfectly white background and seemed to hover in the field.
“What am I looking at?” Martin asked.
Virgil bowed, and so did Gideon. Martin blinked. Virgil scratched his chin, and Gideon scratched his. Everything that Virgil did, the Gideon figure did the same in real time.
“Oh,” Martin said, “this is brilliant. We can work with this.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chauncy,” said the Gideon figure. “I believe this will help you a great deal in the lesser realm.”
Chapter 16
The Noble Four, healed, buffed and rested, travelled on. An uneasy quiet had fallen between them as they contemplated the near-loss of the last encounter, and the near-certainty that the next one would be harder again. A trick like Kalmond had pulled was a rare thing. A universal realization settled over the party unspoken. There would be no easy escape from the next one.
The passage narrowed and the torches along the walls were spaced closer together. Bare stone became crumbled rock, which became dirt.
Keerna winced as something brushed her hair. A spiderweb trailed down from the tunnel ceiling, but that wasn’t what brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. Thornbark slammed into her back, muttering an apology before looking up to see what had halted her steps. It took him a moment to sort the shapes from the shadows. When he made out the first tortured, withered head he swallowed, hard. When he realised the entire roof above him was crowded with them, he squealed, then retched to one side.
“That’s disgusting,” he said, voice shaking. “How’d they get them up there, anyway?”
“Some level designer on an acid trip probably made them,” Thuglar said. His own voice wasn’t much steadier.
Kalmond ushered them on, resolutely refusing to turn his eyes from the floor. Whatever was up there, he did not want to know about it. “Come on. It’s just decoration.”
The ‘decorations’ soon overflowed down the walls, turning a weary trudge down a passageway into a sickening journey, edging past outcroppings so no one had to touch the shrivelled heads. Each one was locked into a scream, hollow eyes above a mouth stretched wide. Some had hair; some did not. All looked to be incredibly old, which did nothing to lessen the horror.
Finally they reached a branch in the route. The left passageway was narrow, dark. The right was wider, well lit with torches and thankfully empty of adornments.
“Which way?” Thuglar asked.
“Right,” Kalmond said, just as Keerna pointed to the left.
“Kal, you know the drill,” she said. “Take the easy route last.”
“Doesn’t always work out that way,” he said. “Besides, we should be nearly done. Let's head straight for the boss and get the hell out of here.”
Keerna frowned. From what she’d heard of his reputation, it wasn’t like Kalmond to argue for a shortcut—not at work, and not in game. “What’s going on?” she asked, finally. The others stayed silent, waiting for his answer.
Kalmond turned haunted eyes her way. “Holly… after what we’ve seen? I just need a break, ok. If it looks like we need to come back, we will. I just need to get my head straight again. I can’t do that aced with what’s probably the heads belonging to the… the stuff we saw outside.”
The brains, she realised. He doesn’t think this was design work… he thinks it’s the game itself. Certainty dropped into her gut like a lead weight. The game designers worked under strict guidelines—they had to, to keep the rating accessible for the maximum audience. This? This was far out of bounds. And if the skulls hadn’t been painted on, expertly crafted with software and code. The level of realism clearly showed the heads were generated by the game itself.
Keerna pressed her fingers back to her lips, this time to hold back the nausea. She nodded, and the four headed down the wide, clean corridor, all hoping the wouldn’t be passing back this way any time soon.
They came to a solid door. It was, of course, locked tight. Thuglar tried the stone key he’d discovered earlier, but it was tiny and the lock was huge. Kalmond slumped against the wall.
“Right,” Thornbark said. “We need to go back. After we eat.”
“You just ate.” Thuglar said. “Man, if your health isn’t at 100% I’ll—”
“My health is fine, but I need a break. C’mon, Thuglar. I didn’t spend a whole ten days grinding for the rainbow-fish recipe to not use it.”
Three sets of eyes turned to the centaur.
“I had some on me before, but I ate it. Trust me, this whole experience will be worth it, just for a taste.”
Thornbark grinned and somehow, the shadows around Kalmond shortened a little. He nodded wearily, wondering if the younger player realised he’d give anything to delay a trip back to that monstrosity of a cavern.
Thornbark drew a small bundle of sticks from his bag and laid them out on the ground, kicking them into a pile with his long equine legs. Then, he retrieved a bundle of glistening fish, their scales throwing rainbow reflections along the cavern walls in the firelight. He moved slowly, meticulously, sprinkling fragrant herbs over them before laying them down on the fire. As they cooked, he handed out flasks of crystal clear water to his companions. one of them needed the mana boost, but all of them took it.
"Anyone else glad they didn't give our characters bladders?" Thuglar asked, the humor in his voice brittle and weak.
Keerna snorted a laugh. "Like you wouldn't believe. I mean, it's fine for you guys, but a girl? In this armor?"
"Hey, nothing wrong with that armor," Thuglar shot back with a wink. Keerna scowled and nudged Kalmond, who slapped Thuglar on the knee with a closed fist. The elf winced, then laughed.
They made small talk, louder than they needed to, with a forced cheer that became genuine as they ate, and drove away some of the heartsick fatigue. They chatted about their characters, compared stats, listened to Keerna gripe about the lack of appropriate female armor.
They stayed until the fish was gone, the fl
asks empty and the fire burned to ash. When they rose, it was with new purpose and lighter hearts.
As they headed back to the junction, Kalmond pulled Thornbark back a little. "Thank you, friend," he said quietly. Thornbark blushed but didn't answer. He'd simply done what was needed.
***
Sally Cordina swiped her card at Gideon’s private elevator. Down the hall, two corn-fed men in charcoal gray suits and high-and-tight haircuts stood like a parody of secret service agents, complete with clear coiled ear pieces. They took turns nodding to her as she passed, then turned their raptor-like eyes back to the sprawling lobby.
When they closed the door behind her, the electronic bolt snapped closed, sealing the hallway with a metallic thud and the air stopped moving. Sally had been down this hallway countless times in her dozen years with the company. She took for granted the strange ways of her boss and the levels of security he demanded. The hallway was different this time. The electronic deadbolt sounding behind her spoke of finality. The heightened security smacked of desperate times.
As the stainless steel doors rolled open with clock like precision and hushed motion, she wondered for the first time what she had gotten herself into. That is, she wondered what she’d gotten herself into besides the three million dollar annual salary plus stock options that made her worth nearly ten million dollars at the age of forty-three. As the doors closed again and the elevator rose, the thought crossed her mind for the first time that her job might land her in prison.
Two more security staff greeted her at the thirtieth floor. One of them was a woman with short brown hair pulled into the smallest and most severe-looking bun Sally had ever seen. She absently tossed a bang of her own glossy black hair to the side, dismissing both guards with her eyes the way royalty might.
She flinched when movement caught the corner of her eye. She found the female security guard walking beside her. Just a hair shorter than Sally, the woman moved with the deliberate silence of a stalking housecat. Sally turned to her with arched brows.
Realm of the Nine Circles: A LitRPG Novel Page 15