The Curse of Rion Castle (The Neuro Book #2) LitRPG Series

by Andrei Livadny

  * * *

  DARKNESS WASHED me awake.

  The scattered remnants of my thoughts smoldered like fire-scorched ruins. I couldn't piece them together. Occasionally my mind exploded with visions of massive databases which resembled impossibly complex giant cities woven with the symbols of the Founders' language.

  Everything around me was ephemeral, translucent, immaterial and intangible. I didn't feel my own body. The absence of time was confusing.

  I heard a soft chuckle.

  A shapeless glowing blob floated into my mental view, taking the form of a human figure, blurred and otherworldly.

  "What did I tell you? They did drain you, didn't they? They did leave you to die."

  I'd heard this voice before. The things it said rang a few bells too. Last time I'd heard it, it was a certain Dietrich who'd said it: the ghost that used Altars of Chaos as portals.

  "Dietrich? Is that you?"

  "Who do you think? You're not easy to get through to these days," he sounded quite friendly this time. "Even the corporate rats can't monitor your mind anymore."

  "Why can't they? Where am I? What's happened?"

  "You won't believe me anyway. Have a look. See for yourself."

  A blinding light assaulted my eyes.

  I still didn't feel my body. Instinctively I tried to shut my eyes when I heard the familiar rustle of a surveillance camera's microdrives.

  "Your mind is online. You don't have to believe me if you don't want to."

  My vision momentarily lost focus, forwarded to the camera's lens. All I could see was some blurred spots around me. Still, Dietrich's presence must have somehow consolidated my consciousness, nudging it into action. I mustered enough mental effort to zoom in, changing the camera's focus.

  I was looking down at a roomful of equipment: several medical machines, a few powerful neural computers and a couple of servers. There were also three unmanned control consoles, their empty seats facing holographic screens covered in some weird schemes.

  I concentrated, willing the camera to turn. The servodrive creaked, forcing it into motion.

  Two sarcophagus-like pieces of equipment were mounted on massive pedestals.

  In-mode capsules.

  They were connected to several transparent pipes and cables which reached out from the wall. Pumps were wheezing, sending fluids up and down the pipes.

  The servodrive creaked again. Obeying my surge of emotion, the camera zoomed in. I peered through the tinted plastic at the face inside.

  Enea.

  She was pale, her eyes closed. Judging by the moving graphs on the medical monitors, she was alive.

  Impossible. What was she doing here? Wasn't she supposed to be at home? I thought I knew the location of the equipment she used to log in!

  Either this was one of Dietrich's dirty tricks, or... what if we were indeed in trouble? What if that's why they'd had to move her here?

  The camera turned again, then refocused.

  I peered through the lid of the other sarcophagus. That was me inside.

  Time froze. My consciousness collapsed.

  This wasn't what I'd signed up for! What kind of mind game was this? Enea and I were supposed to be in the Temple of Oblivion copying the ancient manuscripts!

  Overcoming the shock, I zoomed in some more to focus on the inscription embossed on the pedestal,

  Life support unit. Property of Earth's Military Space Forces.

  Somewhere out of my view, pneumatic drives hissed. A door opened. I heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

  A Corporation worker dressed in white coveralls walked in and took a seat at the central console. On his command, the screen filled with streams of data. He studied it for a while, then closed the windows.

  The door hissed open again, letting in two more people. One was Mr. Borisov; the other, a Space Forces colonel.

  "Are they okay?"

  "Both are in medically induced coma on medicated support," the Corporation worker replied.

  "How long is it going to last?" the Colonel asked with badly concealed irritation.

  "That I can't tell you. Their mind expanders went into simultaneous overdrive while processing the Temple library databases. Good job we noticed it in time. Their brains could have collapsed under the pressure."

  "You shouldn't have done that!" the Colonel snapped.

  "In that case we wouldn't have had anything at all."

  "Why? Please explain. I know nothing about these things," the Colonel slumped into one of the seats. "We've given you the best equipment and plenty of time and money for your experiments! And what do you have to show for it? What prompted you to abort the process just as we started receiving the first transcripts of the Founders' technological codes?"

  "These young people deserve better than having their minds scorched for the sake of your project," Mr. Borisov interrupted.

  The Colonel's face turned crimson. His neck veins bulged. "The Phantom Server project is already launched! Welcome to the fucking future! If we fail to restore the Founders' space station, billions of people are going to die! The Earth is doomed, as you damn well know!"

  "Not necessarily," Mr. Borisov raised his voice. "We shouldn't put all our eggs into one basket. We're sure more than ever that those who stay behind on Earth will have a chance of survival within the Crystal Sphere."

  "Oh really? How would they do that?"

  "Just like these two."

  The Colonel sniffed his indignation. "You're a dreamer! I need the data! Do what you want! Split their skulls open if you have to!"

  "I don't think it's gonna help," the corporate worker struggled to remain calm.

  "Why not?"

  "The technology you've shared with us is alien, for crissakes! It's not easily modifiable! Just as an example, we can't copy neurograms."

  "That's bullshit! I know all about the Reapers! They somehow manage to obtain new neurograms for themselves, don't they?"

  "The Founders' technology is based on the idea of identity matrix stored within the neural implant," the corporation worker said. "It's supposed to be immune to any external force. A person's neurograms can't be copied. The only way of obtaining them is by waiting till the person dies. Which is exactly what Dietrich did. He was our first test subject, if you remember. By killing several of our workers, he obtained snippets of their identities."

  "Dietrich yes, but how about the NPCs? How did they manage to obtain neurograms?"

  "Don't forget that the Crystal Sphere has been created specifically to test neural implants. And all its NPCs, apart from the most primitive ones, are based on neurocomputers."

  "Do you suggest that these incidents will persist?"

  "No, they won't," Mr. Borisov replied firmly. "We've eliminated all of the defective mobs. Dietrich is dead. The Reapers are a thing of the past."

  He rose, walked over to Enea's in-mode and checked the life support readings. "The Founders' technologies have an interesting peculiarity though. The person in possession of a neural implant has the option of sharing his or her neurograms. I think this is how those ancient alien beings exchanged their experiences, enriching each other's identities."

  "Very well, then! In this case, would you please wake them up, explain the gravity of the situation and ask them to kindly forward us the deciphered data!"

  "Why such a rush?"

  "Because we can't continue the restoration of Argus station — the one in the Darg system — without having the Founders' codes!"

  "I'm afraid we can't do that. A person suffering an information overload might not react as we expect them to," Mr. Borisov said. "I suggest we do it in a different way. Both Alex and Enea think that the data they've received is part of the Founders' magic. I'm sure they're going to copy it — or rather, their mind expanders will copy and consequently decipher the codes. All we need to do is access them without harming the hosts."

  "When is that gonna happen?"

  "We don't know yet. Their mind expanders are
still busy processing the codes. The databases which we disguised as ancient manuscripts are absolutely enormous. The moment their mental loads drop to safe values, we'll wake them up and return them to the Crystal Sphere without stressing them out."

  "Stressing them out! Don't you realize that once they're back to their castle, they'll realize they've been away for months or even years? How's that for stressing them out? Sorry, I can't wait much longer."

  "I'm afraid you'll have to," Mr. Borisov said. "The data we already have is plenty to continue with the Phantom Server project. For the rest, you shouldn't worry about it. We've thought about everything. The entire Agrion cluster is about to be paused. They won't notice a thing once they're back."

  "But how about other players?"

  "All those close to them — both friend and foe — will be moved to cryo in-modes. They won't notice anything either. We knew of the experiments' potentially unpredictable nature. Which is why we only accepted single persons with anti-social tendencies."

  "You don't mean you're capable of freezing a whole segment of the Crystal Sphere just for those two? Why?"

  "Because they're our future. I'm not sure your Phantom Server project can guarantee humanity's survival. In the worst-case scenario, the Crystal Sphere might become their last refuge. Which is luckily out of your remit."

  * * *

  "ENOUGH," Dietrich disconnected me from the scene, once again submerging me into a darkness devoid of time and space.

  "What do you want from me?"

  "I showed you the truth. You should leave your body. You heard them. An identity matrix doesn't need a life-supported body in order to live in the Crystal Sphere!"

  "No," I said unhesitantly.

  "They've betrayed you! They used you! They basically killed you!"

  "I don't believe you. You're a liar, Dietrich. It's not so difficult to fake a video. Go away!"

  "You're gonna regret it. You're all gonna regret it!"

  "We'll see."

  "Whatever. I showed you the truth and offered you a solution. They don't understand! Can't you see? We don't have time!"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about the era of Black Sun!" he snapped. "They think they can do it! They can't! They don't have the time! I can fix it! All I need is some knowledge and a few neurograms!"

  "Are you freaking mad? The era of Black Sun is a myth! It's a story made up by script writers!"

  "Please help me!" Dietrich wheezed. "Leave this body! I'll take you to the testing grounds!"

  "What do I want there?"

  "Together we'll kill more researchers, you and I. We'll get their knowledge and their neurograms! We'll change everything here! The Crystal Sphere will belong to us!"

  "You know you're a nutcase, don't you? The only truth about this is that you crave more neurograms! The rest is bullshit! Leave me alone!"

  "Very well," he hissed. "I'm not strong enough yet to get you. You'll be back sooner or later. Then we'll see who's the nutcase here!"

  His outline blurred, then disappeared completely.

  My mind faded.

  * * *

  The Crystal Sphere.

  The Lost Island. The Temple of Oblivion

  "ALEX," Enea walked back into the library with a cup of tea. "You look completely exhausted. Did you fall asleep at the desk?"

  "How long have I been asleep?"

  "About half an hour. You're pale."

  "I had a nightmare. Can we take a break? How are you feeling?"

  "I feel excellent. So many interesting things happening. I'm already translating the runic sequences in the book. I even copied the pictures," she showed me her notes and drawings. "I just don't understand why there're so many numbers. Whole pages of them!"

  I shrugged. Still, my body tensed up at the memory of the nightmare. "I'd rather we took a break. We can go back to the castle and give the pictures to the dwarves so they can start restoring the castle defenses."

  Enea sighed. "What a shame we can't take the books with us. We are coming back here, aren't we? All this still needs to be read," she pointed at the shelfuls of manuscripts awaiting their turn.

  "Of course we are," I said. "Now pick up your notes, say goodbye to Yorm and off we go. We have too many things to do."

  Enea rolled up the scrolls covered with her notes and drawings.

  I couldn't stop thinking about the weird dream I'd just had.

  As we walked over to the portal, my heart missed a beat. My nightmare had been too lifelike. Could it actually be true?

  In a flash, we were transported thousands of miles back to Rion Castle.

  My interface reacted with a standard message,

  Your respawn point has been restored to its old value.

  I looked around me. Nothing seemed to have changed. "Lethmiel?"

  "Yes, my lord?" his voice was calm and unconcerned.

  "Everything all right? How long have we been away?"

  "A week, my lord. Slightly longer than usual."

  "Nothing out of the ordinary happened?"

  "No, sir. The dwarves had another drunken brawl in the tavern. They were at each other's beards. They're bored, my lord. They've already restored the barracks and have nothing to do with their time."

  "Good," I said. "They'll have loads to do now."

  Enea glanced at the clock. "Jesus! I have an important meeting with the city hall in Agrion today! I'm late already!"

  "Let me take you there."

  "It's all right. I can manage."

  "Please," I just couldn't shake off the weird dream. "I can check out the market while you're busy with the city hall. I've been meaning to do it for ages."

  * * *

  The Crystal Sphere

  The City of Agrion

  THE MARKET was uncrowded. Not many players were online today.

  "Alex, I won't be long."

  "All right. I'll go check out the stalls."

  Enea headed for the city hall's building. I stopped by a second-hand book stall like I always do. You never know when you might come across a rare scroll or antique manuscript.

  As I sifted through the sheets of yellowed parchment, I heard the clatter of hooves coming from the town gate. А large cavalcade of mounted warriors rode onto the square.

  They reined in their lathering horses by the tavern about a dozen feet away from me. The sharp odor of horse sweat hung in the air.

  You could tell they'd come from afar. They must have had to battle through, judging by their dusty, tattered cloaks spotted with blood. Their richly decorated black armor was in a bad way too. The shields strapped to their saddles were chipped and dented, gaping with fresh crossbow bolt holes. The coats of arms painted upon them had faded.

  The player leading the group dismounted and handed the reins to a tavern servant who'd hurried out to meet them. The tavern keeper walked out next, looking pretty frightened. I could understand him. It's not every day you meet a level-132 knight in Agrion!

  I'd have loved to have known where they'd come from.

  The tired warriors followed their commander's suit. I couldn't see their faces behind the lowered visors. Their gauntleted hands lay warily on their sword hilts as if they didn't trust this peaceful provincial town in the slightest.

  "Jean, you have an hour's break. I'm going to find out how to get there."

  "An hour, are you sure? Can't we take a day off? We need to sort out our gear."

  "Shut your mouth! Let me worry about that. You'd better take care of the horses."

  The tavern keeper awoke from his stupor. "How can I help the brave warriors?"

  "Quit fussin'," the knight's voice boomed behind the visor. "I'm looking for a guide familiar with the Toxic Moors."

  "The Toxic Moors, where exactly? It's a big place."

  "Rion Castle. Ever heard about it?"

  "Of course," the tavern owner replied, looking slightly lost. "The problem is, no one knows the route there."

  The Dark knight pulled h
is helmet off and set it habitually into the crease of his arm. He ran a hand through his gray crew cut and added, unable to conceal his irritation,

  "You don't understand me, peasant! I'm looking for my daughter. I haven't heard from her in three years. I'll go through your stinking little town with a fine-tooth comb if I have to! So you'd better do what I say. Go and find out how I can get to Rion. By water, by land or by magic — I don't care!"

  His angry voice carried far in the air. A patrol of city guards beelined for the tavern to prevent a potential argument.

  "Good morning, Sir Knight," their commander spoke politely, the way NPCs always begin their conversations. "How did you like our town? I hope your trip was uneventful?"

  "Uneventful my ass! Reapers everywhere! They rob people in broad daylight! We had to battle our way here! The world is going to the dogs! Infosystems Corporation has lost the plot! If you call this uneventful-" he waved his own words away, remembering he was speaking to a cartoon.

  Still, the exhaustion of the journey took the better of him. "What're you staring at?" he snapped, not at all impressed by the sight of three level-120 guards. "You want some problems?"

  "My job is to preserve peace and order," the patrol commander replied impassively.

  "Soon there'll be nothing to preserve," the stranger predicted.

  He stood with his back to me. The level gap between us didn't allow me to read his stats. I had to activate my Neuro abilities.

  Slowly his nickname floated into view,

  Friedrich White

  I startled.

  Three years?

  My back erupted in a shivery cold sweat. Three years? Reapers everywhere? The words circled my mind, freezing it solid.

  I struggled to bring my shock under control. "I think I can help you."

  He swung round.

  A pale face. Puffy, baggy eyes. He'd changed a lot since our last meeting.

  "Alex!" he stepped toward me and gave me a fatherly hug. "Is she alive? Tell me!"

  I nodded. A freezing cold settled in my chest.

  The city hall's door opened. Enea walked out.