Clans War (The Way of the Shaman: Book #7) LitRPG Series

by Mahanenko, Vasily

  We decided to speak to the Patriarch after we’d completed the Dungeon. Stacey and I figured that the Corporation wouldn’t have time to set the update in motion at the moment. A new threat in the form of the deadly fog, demanded that they stay on their toes, keeping the players supplied with arms, which all meant that we had at least another day. As soon as we complete the Tarantula quest, we’ll go see the Patriarch. Everything in good time.

  * * *

  Message for the player! You have reached Char. +50% chance of finding a valuable item. +20 to Experience earned.

  “That’s right!” Stacey exclaimed happily. “I just remembered why Char sounded familiar to me! This is the Tarantula’s world!”

  “Okay, we’ve reached spiders’ world,” I muttered. Once activated, the Fleet Hound Paw opened a standard entrance to a Dungeon, though really we simply passed into another world. “What do we have to do now?”

  “That’s a question no one’s been able to answer for about seven years now,” Plinto approached us, examining the red mountain looming over our heads. “It’s just a barren planet. Sooner or later, a player will get bored of wandering around here and he’ll head back to Barliona. Or the local mobs will send him back.”

  The world of the Tarantulas, or the demons, or simply Char (the devil knows what the right term is), bore a close resemblance to Mars. Red sand, red stones, red mountains — I got the impression that it was simply painted red. Even the sun, in the middle of the sky, was reddish. It illuminated the lifeless barren nothingness with a bloody light. I’ve seen this before somewhere…

  “Once upon a time, we spent a week out here,” Anastaria said. “We killed everything that moved, but we didn’t accomplish much. In the end we found ourselves outnumbered. There’s a contact point with our world somewhere around here. We can use it as a shortcut into the Tomb. Only it’s unclear how we can reach it. Maybe we need to activate the Eye and…Mahan? What happened?”

  Step by step, I was moving away from the main group of players. I had the distinct impression that what we had to do next was right here somewhere nearby at arm’s length and I need only to see it and grab it. In pursuit of this premonition, I began to stray from the raid party, which Anastaria noticed.

  “Mahan! Where are you going? Are you being mind-controlled?”

  I continued to walk, while a strange association occurred in my mind.

  Control. A player could be mind-controlled for 60 seconds, ten times an hour. There would be a cooldown too. A minute or two. I no longer remembered exactly what it was. In any case, this mind control would be negated by the mighty Patriarch’s Tooth and I had one of these now…

  The Patriarch’s Tooth. How would the High Vampire have five fangs? I saw two of them in his mouth and Plinto had another. Stacey and I now had one apiece too. How many more fangs did the demons have? One, two, ten, a hundred? Does the Patriarch give a demon his tooth every time he loses one? Come on, after all, they’re…demons. Weird demons. They’re not like the demons I have known. They’re sort of a bit too…intelligent? Take the same old portal demon who runs the portal in Altameda. All he does is spend his time figuring out a way to make an extra piece of gold! Meanwhile these red-faced Char critters sacrificed themselves at the first order. Without even asking us for proof. All we had to do was prove that we had the Keymaster’s blood flowing in our veins.

  The Keymaster. The Keymaster’s blood flows within me. He is my blood brother. But I only have one blood brother and that’s Plinto. Even Draco is just a step-brother. Not blood. So this means that through the Rogue I became kin with the Patriarch and…

  NO!

  Blood relation only extends to two sentients! The ones who exchanged blood! There can be no other bonds, especially mixed blood! Not in Barliona! But that could mean only one thing…

  Blast it all to hell! What to do? Should I try it? You only live once!

  This is just a game finally!

  I returned back to the game. Stacey was standing beside me, anxiously peering into my face and no doubt screaming as loud as she could through our telepathic link…which, as I understood it, didn’t work on Char. The other players were clumped up several dozen feet away. They were casting worried glances at the pillar of dust rising on the horizon. Our presence in this world had been noticed, and the first wave of locals was already on its way to meet its triumphant demise. I mean, this was a location designed for Level 100s, not Level 250s. And there were thirty of us.

  “Stacey, what do players get at Level 100?”

  “What’s going on, Daniel?” Stacey tried shaking me back into a normal state. It’s a good thing that this action is hard to perform in this game.

  “What…Do…Players…Get…At…Level…100?” I repeated slowly and deliberately in the hopes that Stacey would realize the gravity of the situation.

  “When a player climbs up through the levels sequentially — instead of skipping them like you did — then at Level 100 a forced initiation takes place. Not everyone manages to pick up their profession at Level 10, Mahan. Some people get to Level 100 without a class profession and only then get their bonuses.”

  “Then that means that the player is modified at the hundredth level?” I guessed.

  “No one modifies anyone! An ordinary ritual takes place, in which the head of the class confers the title on the player. And that’s it!”

  “Are the players gathered in one place? Or is this done remotely?” I went on inquiring. For some reason this felt important to me. So important that I could safely ignore the pillar of dust growing taller on the horizon.

  “What the hell do you need to know this for right this instant? Yes. They’re brought together in one place. Every class separately. The players take a knee, consume a class symbol, as if they’re absorbing it, and that’s it! There’s no modification! That’s how they get the first class title!”

  It was like I’d been struck by a lightning bolt. A marker! Players who reach Level 100 receive a marker! And moreover, they’re all players who’ve played passively and shown little interest to developing their characters until that point!

  “Who among you received your first class title through initiation?” I yelled to the raid party. “Raise your hand! This is critical.”

  Hesitantly, even cautiously, the players began to raise their arms one after the other. A few moments passed and I was staring at twenty-two raised hands. Twenty-two…Three more than I needed! For, among the twenty players who’d come to Char, at least one had to be the head sheep. The rest were the herd. May the players forgive my thoughts…

  “Okay. You’ve conducted a survey and determined that a part of the crew played unexceptionally. What now?” Stacey quipped and immediately started back when I yelled into the air:

  “I have brought the Keymaster and the tribute! I seek a pass to see the Vicegerent!”

  “What the…” Stacey began to say as a terrifying whisper filled the air around us:

  “YOUR TRIBUTE HAS BEEN ACCEPTED, SHAMAN!”

  Twenty-two players vanished with their arms still raised. The victims’ frames went gray, signifying that the system was now preparing the cursing players to exit the game. The remaining five players exchanged glances and whipped out their weapons. So I had no other option but to yell to Plinto and Stacey:

  “Take them out!”

  Setting the example, I sent a Heavy Battle Shadow flying into the Warrior beside me. He grunted with surprise and collapsed on the ground with 0 HP — Plinto acted reflexively. Even though these were his friends, the order was more important. The remaining four tried to resist but in vain. It took Plinto several swipes of his daggers to leave only three living players in the Tarantulas’ world.

  “Keymaster,” I took a knees before Plinto. “You are home!”

  “Mahan, what the hell?” the Rogue cried almost upset, when Stacey, mumbling something under her nose, stepped over beside me and also took a knee. “What is going on?”

  “He’s not ready yet, Sha
man.” A painfully-familiar voice sounded beside me. Once upon a time, we had run the obstacle course to the sound of this voice — back then my sensory filter was off and I can’t say that the recollection was pleasant.

  “You are hurrying too much,” the Patriarch went on, approaching his son. “He has too much light within him yet! He is not ready to lead the invasion.”

  “Only the Vicegerent knows whether he is ready or not.” For whatever reason I had decided that the Patriarch and the Vicegerent were different creatures after all. What did we know about the High Vampire? Only that he was an extremely ancient creature. The son of the First Vampire, who defeated the mad Harrashess. Although I quite liked the latter actually.

  “You have changed, Shaman!” the Patriarch said with surprise. “The Mahan I knew would stand up for kindness and justice. The current you…Can you imagine the vast quantity of rage and sadness was unleashed into the world when the two Armageddons exploded among the unprepared Free Citizens? Another two or three such explosions and the Breach of Barliona will open on its own.”

  “The Mahan you knew died in the Cataclysm,” I interrupted tersely, donning the mask of a villain. It’s a good thing telepathy doesn’t work in this world. Stacey’s eyes told me that there was a lot she had to tell me. And it was obvious that none of it was positive.

  “How did you understand that my son is the Keymaster? I did everything I could to have you suspect me.”

  At this point, another naughty idea popped into my head.

  “The Prophecy. You know very well what it is about. With all due respect, confusing Plinto with you…

  “What prophecy are you talking about?” Stacey whispered, unable to control herself.

  “Geranika…” the Patriarch seethed with a scowl. “Only he could have told you. I always knew that trusting that Shaman with a piece of the Alabaster Throne was a mistake! But why Plinto? I too am the son of the First Vampire! The prophecy applies to me as well as to Plinto!”

  “Want to bet whose version is right?” I hiked an eyebrow. “Very well. Be so kind as to recite the entire prophecy. And I will show you the obvious reference to Plinto.”

  The Patriarch froze. His eyes were drilling into me — looking to see whether I was bluffing or whether I really knew the meaning of the ancient prophecy that the Emperor had mentioned back in the Dark Forest. It was back then that I heard: ‘So, you finally found yourself a son? Do you not fear the Prophecy?’ All of my current behavior was predicated on this single phrase. I was really hoping that Naahti hadn’t made some mistake. At last, the Patriarch recited loudly:

  “WHOEVER TEARS OUT HIS HEART AND REMAINS ALIVE SHALL DECIDE THE FATE OF BARLIONA. ONLY THE SPAWN OF A HIGH LORD MAY DO SO, BUT ONLY AFTER THE STRONGEST OF THE SPIRITS DECLARE HIM WORTHY.”

  “Ah-ha! And there it is!” I flourished a finger and grinned, frantically searching the text for the clue I needed. To convince the Patriarch, I had to find at least one reference to Plinto and…

  “Even though Plinto is a High Vampire, he is a living creature,” Stacey came to my aid. If there’s any reason I love my wife, it’s because she always helps me — even when she doesn’t know what the hell is going on. I hope everyone can find a woman like that. “You, Patriarch are undead. You are not alive by definition. This seems quite evident.”

  “Evident…” the Patriarch echoed bitterly. “You are right, Siren. We’re talking about my living son here. Not about me. Everything really is very evident.”

  “This whole tear your heart out stuff…it’s not really my fetish,” Plinto reminded us that he was there. “I like to keep my heart around, as a reminder of who I am and where I come from.”

  “I get the impression that no one cares,” Stacey replied, still looking at me. Making my best stony face — as if everything was following my script — I stared steadily at the Patriarch, who in turn, remained staring at Plinto. Only the Rogue kept looking from me to the Patriarch, unsure of what was going on. What a clown circus. Clown cars, clown noses, clown pies, elephants and all!

  “I shall lead you to the Vicegerent. He shall decide what to do,” the Patriarch nodded and the red world around us vanished. And returned as a…

  Stony cavern.

  Unlike NPC Harbingers, I kept having to enter my Blink coordinates, so the habit of recording where I was spatially was automatic. It was no different now — the world was still blurry and coming into focus and I had already popped open the 3D map that showed my current location on Char. Comparing the coordinates with where we had arrived on this planet, I whistled to myself: We were practically on the other side of the world. If I hadn’t committed the sacrifice, it would’ve taken us several years to get over here.

  I should mention that the cave we were in was quite interesting. A portal burned bright red in the center. A portal to our world, by the looks of it. Or more precisely, to the Tomb. One-meter-tall Tarantulas stood one alongside the other around the perimeter of the place. A green beam emanated from the head of each Tarantula, intersecting and joining with all the other green beams a meter above the portal. In this manner, the beams formed a cocoon of sorts, within which hung an iron cage. An old man sat within the cage in a lotus pose. It was the same old man who had granted immortality to Lait. It was the Creator of Barliona!

  But even that wasn’t the most astounding part. The most shocking thing was the two-meter-tall Tarantula sitting on a terrifying imitation of a throne made of skulls. The properties of this monster were horrible: The Progenitor (Level N/A) . The Tarantula boss watched us with all eight of his black, lidless eyes.

  “WHY ARE THEY HERE, SLAVE?! ” A terrible voice roared in my head, causing a number of debuffs to fall on me at once. I regained consciousness on the floor and — thanks to the Tooth — a mere two seconds after hearing the question. The Progenitor’s voice was the stuff of nightmares.

  “They have brought the Keymaster, Vicegerent!” The Patriarch knelt and I felt the hair on my nape tremble. I’d never seen the Higher Vampire genuflect before anyone. Even if this was…A GOD?!

  “THE KEYMASTER MUST BE IN BARLIONA! NOT HERE! ”

  I fainted again from the debuffs. For crying out loud! Deciding that I may as well stay sitting, I got comfortable on the floor. The upcoming conversation promised to be a lengthy one and I didn’t feel like falling down every other sentence.

  “I brought them here to deliver them to him! It is impossible to do so from Barliona!”

  “THIS SHAMAN WAS EXPELLED FROM THE LEPROSARIUM. HE SERVES THE BROTHERS! ”

  “If I felt like doing their quest, I would’ve headed to Geranika a long time ago,” I wasn’t about to sit out the exchange, and as soon as the debuffs disappeared, I began to defend myself. “At the moment he possesses the Alabaster Throne and…”

  “The Alabaster Throne is not subject to mortals!” To my immense relief, the reply came from the Patriarch instead of the Progenitor. “Geranika possesses a mere replica! A copy! One that enjoys a part of the original’s power, but still one that is only a replica!”

  “All the more,” I replied, getting up. “I wasn’t trying to destroy it. I never even considered it. You kicked me out of the Leprosarium over nothing. I don’t work for the brothers.”

  “THEN WHY DID YOU GO THERE? ”

  Blast it all to hell! Why had I gotten up? Had I felt all-powerful?

  “I needed the aid of the Shadows! I went to the Leprosarium for help, not to meet the brothers! I didn’t even know they were there!”

  “He speaks the truth, Vicegerent,” the Patriarch intervened. “There is no deception in his words!”

  The Progenitor didn’t say anything, so I risked it and stood up again. To my surprise, Stacey and Plinto were out cold as if…POISON! Only now did I notice that the cave’s floor was covered with a short grass, barely visible in the murk. A tiny green drop glistened at the tip of each blade, seething with a stupefying narcotic. Stacey and Plinto weren’t paralyzed — they were high.

  “Is th
is the Creator?” I asked the Patriarch, while the Tarantula was contemplating being and nothingness. “Or another replica?”

  “His soul,” replied the Vampire. “His body remained in Barliona, but we managed to transport his consciousness here.”

  “YOU HAVE NOT JOINED CHAR! ” The Tarantula reminded us of his presence, accusing me once more of some crime against his reign. Like hell!

  “I have my doubts!”

  “ABOUT WHAT? ”

  “I’m not sure that you lot are dark enough for me. I need true allies! The entire world opposes me! Together with Geranika I plan on destroying Barliona and I don’t feel like allying with any old passerby!”

  “He speaks the truth, Vicegerent,” the Patriarch muttered again. “He has become the enemy of all of Barliona.”

  “YOU SHALL LEARN THE TRUTH AND BEHOLD OUR MIGHT! WAKE THE KEYMASTER! ”

  I didn’t fall! I managed to stay standing! I did it! I had had to lean on the Patriarch, yet I didn’t simply collapse as I had earlier. Whoever this Progenitor was, he hadn’t managed to drop me!

  The Patriarch didn’t waste time and simply pushed me into the portal. The world around me wavered for a few moments, and resolved into another small cave, no less strange than the earlier one.

  This cave’s perimeter was full of dead demons who formed another force cocoon around an iron cage holding the body of the Creator. In this sense, the two caves resembled one another. The difference was elsewhere — instead of a portal, the center of this cave was occupied by the Alabaster Throne — and the Throne in turn was occupied by an old acquaintance of mine.

  Anastaria’s stunned exclamation sounded beside me as she read the properties of the man. And indeed if Plinto hadn’t told me that Lori had been unable to find the first Human Emperor amid the Gray Lands, I too would have been shocked. Karmadont sat in the throne and stared with a mad gaze at the Ergreis cuddled in his arms. Here he was, the first Emperor of the Humans.