The Cursed Princedom (Realm of Arkon #2)

by G. Akella

  That was strange as well, but I'd better keep going. The ticking time weighed on my psyche, pushing me onward. The armor feels just like before. The sword is a bit worse, but the mobs are closer to my level, so they drop even faster than in Ghorazm Ruins. What stings is that I don't have any healing potions, so I need to be extra careful. With those thoughts, I got into attack range of the next pack. Keep 'em coming...

  The streets were indistinguishable from one another. The houses fused together into long stretches of wood and stone, broken by squares, fountains and crumbling statues. The city was as endless as the night. As if nailed to the sky, the moon had no intention of leaving the sky, even as it hid behind the occasional cloud. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls... Sometimes I came across patrols; in those instances, I had no choice but wait. Wait and lose time.

  I'd lost count of all the undead specimen I dispatched to the world beyond. But if anyone did keep score, surely they would offer me honorary membership in some paladin's guild upon my return to Karn. An offer I would reject without a second thought—all those "warriors of light" were always a bit too fanatical for my liking. I surrendered to the monotony of undead slaughter, happy for the distraction from the ticking time. At first I was even searching the nearby houses, but after about twenty I realized it was useless. There wasn't anything there but broken furniture and trash, rotting corpses and those same unsettling clay dolls. "What a freak show!" I remembered Alyona yelping whenever anyone tried presenting the child with similar handiwork of the local puppeteers—the memory kept a smile on my face for a good ten minutes. I thought for a moment, then snatched up one of the dolls. The androgynous creature looked to be made of porcelain—a favorable distinction from its clay brethren, even if it made the doll look quite a bit more scary. Roughly twenty inches tall, the doll had glass eyes of bright green with black irises, flame-red hair, and an outfit that had kept surprisingly well. Why had I brought the foul thing with me again? I didn't know anymore—to keep myself occupied, maybe?

  You have gained a level! Current level: 67.

  The promotion happened as I was standing over the remains of one of countless butchered packs, in the middle of an nondescript alley. That's odd, I thought. When I leveled to sixty six, the system log informed me about a restored level. Where are the stat points? And where is the increase to spirit and intellect? I was getting pretty tired of all these puzzles—too tired even to cuss about it out loud. My ruminations were broken by a screeching sound, as the door in a one-story roofless stone house to my right slowly opened, revealing a portal window shimmering blue. Hot damn, finally! I sighed with relief. With a glance at the stopped clock, I wasted no time in leaving this dreadful place.

  I was in a large, square room. The platform at the center looked like a chessboard with black and yellow squares. The gray ceiling was cracked, and had even collapsed in several places. The walls were decorated with bas-reliefs in exotic patterns. In each corner of the makeshift chessboard of one hundred squares stood four identical marble figures in cassocks.

  There were also chests in the room—I counted one hundred of them. Made of brown wood and sheeted with metal, they all looked absolutely identical. None had keyholes or any kind of handles. I walked around the chessboard but didn't get on it yet, still suspicious of what that might entail. Well, now what? Realizing the futility of my attempts to get at the contents of the chests, I simply sat on top of one. What could possibly be inside? Epic weapons and armor? An explosive that would blow everything to hell? A way out, back into that box above the chasm?

  There were one hundred squares on the board, matching the number of chests. Was I supposed to drag them onto the board? Or to arrange them in a specific way? How I detested these mental puzzles! I got up and proceeded to carefully examine the walls, and the figures in the corners of the board, searching for any kind of clue. But it was useless! The figures gave me nothing, and the writing on the walls was nonsensical—just a mishmash of straight and wavy lines. The chests weren't movable either, at least not with my strength coefficient. My gut was still telling me not to get on the board, but it was starting to seem inevitable.

  Treading carefully and keeping my shield and weapon at the ready, I crossed the platform from one end to another... Nothing happened. I then zigzagged across all the squares—nothing again. I paused at the edge of the platform, considering my next route, when suddenly my feet were rooted to the floor. A moment of panic, and then... nothing again. But no, orange sparks were now running over the lids of the chests.

  Now, where should I begin? I chose the closest one to me, resolved to face whatever came next. I snapped open the lid and... blackness. Again.

  Dampness. The smell of fish mixed with that of rotting seaweed. The wall at my back—lined with moss and some kind of fungi—had a large crack running through it, with water flowing from there onto the slabs, streaming down the marble steps, into a wide passageway illuminated by magic lanterns. I was dying of thirst—all the running around the dead city had left its mark. I was wearing swamp-colored armor and wielding a falchion. My inventory contained the standard flask of water, four crackers and the freaky doll from the dead city. The zone's name hadn't changed, but the level range had risen by one. Down at the foot of a long marble stairwell, a pack of four local mobs waited for me.

  With upper torsos that were entirely human, from the waist down they turned into massive serpentine tails. The naga. There were three males in chainmail wielding tridents, and a female in the back in a headdress resembling a koloshnik, her lady parts covered with a leather chestguard, and armed with a two-handed staff like any proper mage. Evidently, these were the ruins of some drowned temple. They can wait, I dismissed the welcoming committee with a wave of the hand, and made my way to one of the few dry areas by the wall. For want of a cloak, I stretched out right there on the marble slabs, and fell into a deep sleep.

  The blood of the locals was light pink in color—fish was still fish, after all, whether real or virtual. The countdown began right as I engaged the first pack of snake people, while the time to level was reduced by ten minutes—hardly a big deal. I had completed the dead city without rushing in twenty five and a half hours. Sure, I'd started with about a quarter-full XP bar, but I'd also wasted tons of time searching houses, so I wasn't worried at all. The naga proved to be just as dense as the skeletons. Earth Shackles on the melee, Silence on the mage—and this new pack was dispatched with equal ease as their undead counterparts.

  My understanding was that one of the chests on the chessboard contained something, and it was my task to get my hands on this "something." The point of the chessboard was still lost on me, though—could there be a connection between the square you stood on and a particular chest? I made a note to test that hypothesis when I got back there, which would be in several hours. At least I don't need to worry about bosses, I thought, then scolded myself for fear of a jinx.

  A few times my life hung by a thread. After a few patrols had crawled out of some hole, catching me by surprise, I'd begun erring on the side of caution. Oftentimes I had to wade through waist-high water, when escaping from the snake people wasn't an option—even if I Jumped twenty yards away, the warriors could easily intercept me with a Charge, and stun me for several seconds to boot. But I was still kicking, with more than fifteen hundred butchered beasts in my wake.

  Who had conceived this idiotic drowned temple anyway? A place like this could never exist in reality, but then drawing and building were two very different things. Still, it had to have taken more than one artist to design all these walls with their paintings and bas-reliefs, let alone the grottoes, statues and columns. On the other hand, the same could probably be accomplished by a not particularly cutting-edge AI.

  You have gained a level! Current level: 68.

  The section of the wall bearing the image of a two-headed warty toad slid sideways with a screech, opening the door to the next stage of this senseless journey.

  The room with the platform sectio
ned into squares hadn't changed. The same four dunces in cassocks stood on the edges, the same strange symbols decorated the walls. The only difference was, the chest I had opened the last time around was gone. 99 bottles of beer on the wall! I recalled the old folk song. The trick now was to keep my sanity as I toiled to level 166. Considering my rotten luck with loot drops, I wouldn't find the thing I needed until the very last chest.

  I took some time to try and find a connection between the chests in the room and the chessboard, but ultimately gave up—either there was no connection or I was an incredibly dense individual. For want for a better option, I picked a square that "spoke" to me, got on it and paused. Like before, my feet grew stuck to the floor, but this time there was a foul crackling noise, as a black square two spaces away burst in a black blaze and vanished.

  As soon as my feet were mine again, I quickly left the platform. Then I took a seat on the edge of the base of one of the statues, in no rush to open the next chest. Overwhelmed with emotions, I unleashed the foulest, most disgusting string of obscenities I could muster; and then another one, this time on the top of my lungs. So this was the point of this goddamned stupid game?! As I'd gathered, each failed attempt with the chests would increase the number of burning squares on the board. I looked at the chessboard with unbridled hatred, though it was back to looking as it was five minutes ago. How much of a douchebag did one have to be to design this crap?! Chill, I told myself, raging ain't going to get you anywhere. There's no alternative, so you might as well keep at it. I chose one of the farther chests and flipped it open. Hello darkness, my old friend...

  A full moon shone in a star-studded sky. The wind carried aromas of pine and tar from the direction of the woods. The grass underfoot was soft and dense, like a thick Persian rug. I was sitting by a rock atop a tall hill, gazing down at a deserted village sprawling below. The graveyard at the foot of the hill—way too large for a village so small—was teeming with packs of undead that roved amid the crooked gravestones. A sudden lupine howling from the direction of the woods startled me. Wolves? Here? That would be new. I yawned, instinctively raising a hand in a plate gauntlet to my mouth, also already covered with a closed visor—I was once again wearing a new suit of armor. Oh, screw you all! I stretched out comfortably on the grass, feasting my eyes on the infinite patterns of stars above. I wonder if Ingvar is still waiting for me with the diadem... How long have I been here? It had to have been two full days already. But I suppose gods aren't so pressed for time, so let him wait... And with that thought, I let the world around me grow dark.

  You have gained a level! Current level: 69.

  The crackle of two squares in the floor bursting into flames, and the familiar blackness after opening another chest...

  ……………………………………………………..

  You have gained a level! Current level: 92.

  A quarter of the chessboard collapsed into the void, with one square vanishing right next to my feet.

  Sometimes I'd sit there for hours, searching for the resolve to climb up on that chessboard. But, as always, rage would prevail over weakness, and I would reenter the vicious circle designed by some moral degenerate. Castle ruins, ancient cities, dark and dreary woods, wastelands and prairies... Skeletons, zombies, goblins, naga, worgen...

  To say that I was tired would be saying nothing at all. Sometimes I would spend hours upon waking just sitting there, watching the mobs roaming to and fro. But common sense would invariably prevail, spurring me ever onward.

  You have gained a level! Current level: 127.

  More than half the floor disappeared in a black explosion. I watched the blackness around me listlessly—sixty levels and counting... I'd been lucky, I thought as I lowered myself on the reappeared floor sections. And not so lucky, looking at the remaining forty chests. Sometimes I would grab the porcelain doll, sit the ugly thing across from me and talk to it. The doll's name was Dodo. Whether it was a boy or a girl, I didn't know, nor did it matter. I would share with the doll the story of how I had ended up in the game, and that somewhere out there my sister was waiting for me, for I was all she had left in the world. Sometimes the doll would appear to nod back at me, and for a moment it wouldn't seem quite so ugly.

  Completing stages had become progressively harder, as the time limit was reduced by ten minutes each time. I moved as if on autopilot: Ice Blade, Tongue of Flame, Shield of the Elements, Jump, Step through Darkness... I almost didn't feel pain anymore, even when my health bar dropped below half. I was sustained by only two feelings: fury and hatred for the scumbag who had devised this torture, and anger at myself for going along with it.

  You have gained a level! Current level: 131.

  "Just a little bit more, just a little bit," I whispered to myself, leaning back against a marble statue, finishing off the flask with water the taste of rust. The final stage proved to be the most difficult. Caves with spiders... The beasts kept spitting web, slowing down my movement through those narrow subterranean burrows. The cramped spaces made it impossible to execute chopping attacks, and breathing was difficult—I'd managed to level with less than a minute left, and dived into the portal that had materialized in the dirt wall. A few times I'd caught myself pausing, wondering what might happen if I let the time run out? But I'd fought back those thoughts, knowing that I could always test that theory at a later time. Moreover, if I did test it, more likely it wouldn't be of my own volition.

  I woke up, and didn't immediately realize where I was. Oh right, the chessboard and the marble moron's figure behind me. Once, after completing yet another stage, I'd lost it a little, unleashing a flurry of attacks on the statues, but my sword had simply glanced off them, leaving no mark. My flask empty of water, I got up on my feet and stared blankly at the bloody chests remaining in the room, all thirty six of them. "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..." I recalled Alyona's favorite counting rhyme from childhood. Then I walked over and opened the chest on which the rhyme concluded.

  A heatwave washed over me, as the familiar room exploded with flickering orange lights! Holding Loaetia's diadem and the porcelain doll in my hands, I leaped out of the vault. A pleasant cool enwrapped my body. Tossing the items in my bag, I hurriedly pulled on my clothes. There came a suspicious crackling at my back, as I equipped my armor with the swiftness of a soldier awoken in the middle of the night by an alarm. Leaving the helm in my bag, I gunned in the direction of the rift, forgetting all about my fear of heights.

  Made it! Mere seconds after my feet had the found firm surface, there was an explosion behind me. The stuffy air of the Gray Frontier tasted sweet after my sprint—such was the design when recovering vigor, similar to the real world after sprinting one hundred meters. With my breath stabilizing, I turned around to see that the vault was gone from the sky, along with the translucent trail that led to it.

  Sons of bitches! Why the hell am I level 66 again?! Those two months back there nearly cost me my sanity, and it was all for nothing?! By sheer force of will I managed to calm myself. It couldn't have all been a dream. No way! Here's the doll I'd picked up on the second floor of that ramshackle house in the dead city! What's the deal?!

  I inhaled deeply, and then again, cooling down. Then I turned around to face Ingvar and his companions. They're still here? Not a lot of time must have passed in Arkon since I'd gone in. But why are they all quiet and looking at me funny? I reached into my bag for the diadem. They can't know what happened to me... Or can they? Maybe it's the striptease I did back on the phantom path? Or the crazy yelp with which I flew out of that blasted vault? Nah, can't be. What, they never saw a naked dude before? Figuring that the answers to my questions could wait, I started toward Ingvar, the pebbles crunching under my plate boots. Upon reaching him, I held out the diadem.

  "Here's your wife's headdress," my hoarse voice carried volume that took me by surprise.

  "He's a modest one," chortled one of the dwarves, rising from a rock he'd been lounging on. "Here, take a swig. You've earn
ed it."

  I accepted the offer—a flat canteen with the capacity of a few quarts—thanked the dwarf with a nod and took a several big gulps. The fluid flew into my belly like a fireball. Seventy proof, no less, I noted to myself, then took a few more swigs and returned the vessel to its owner. After the stagnant, rusty water I'd been drinking, the dwarven tincture tasted heavenly. I allowed myself to savor the moment. The fanciest, priciest spirits I'd ever had paled in comparison. The drink caused a light buzzing in my head, and left a pleasant aftertaste of exotic herbs in my mouth.

  "That's twice you've surprised me in one day, cub," Ingvar spoke slowly, looking up from the diadem in his hands, and peering into my eyes. "Not many could do what you did—step into nothingness without hesitation, and then make it back... I sense what you've been through, but it's behind you now..."

  Your reputation has increased. Ingvar the Warrior God is friendly to you.

  "Your belt is broken," he continued teasingly, squinting with one eye, then unbuckled his belt in one smooth movement. "Here, take this," he handed me his own plate belt.