Viridian Gate Online: Embers of Rebellion: A litRPG Adventure (The Firebrand Series Book 2)

by J D Astra

  But what if I couldn’t? Would Arcona want me to kill him? What if he wasn’t guilty? The shred of doubt filled my head with worry.

  “Are you ready, Abby?” Patrick sneered, and when I looked back to him, there were two. What the hell? They moved their right hands, waving to me.

  I targeted the one on the left and hit him with Burning Affliction. The man stood still, the leer of a madman plastered to his face. I opened my hands for Inferno Blast and aimed at the target on the right.

  “Psst!” The voice came from behind me and I whirled, but nothing was there.

  Patrick’s voice came again, but all around me. “What’s the matter, Abby?” I spun 360, scanning the dimly lit arena. My eyes were losing focus, the torches’ light spreading out in a starburst of gold and orange. I looked at my blurry hands, and my stomach churned the two-hour-old Quarry Grub.

  “Feeling a bit sick, confused? How is it that you’re going to fight me, if you can’t even stand!” The word boomed through the hall, bringing me to my knees. The Death Sickness had 5 minutes remaining... Why didn’t I wait longer?

  “Or maybe you’re just not up for the challenge.” His voice was distant, then close, but he himself was nowhere in sight. I needed more light. “The gods picked the right vessel for justice tonight—you will prove my innocence.”

  I aimed my hands straight up, unleashing Inferno Blast. The smaller dry roots went up like ripe kindling, fire trickling up the vines like fuse wicks. The room was illuminated brightly, and I searched the arena for the blur of my opponent.

  There.

  With my vision still clouded I popped a fireball off in his direction and heard it land with a sizzling smack. A crystal-clear notification appeared over my hazy vision.

  <<<>>>

  Debuff Resisted!

  Your Burning Affliction had no effect on the target.

  <<<>>>

  What the hell?

  I dismissed the pop-up and in the fading light, slapped the fleeing Patrick with another fireball. The second hit landed, and my vision returned to normal.

  “You’ll regret that.” Patrick’s voice was a feral growl that surrounded me, tore at me like a pack of wolves flanking their prey.

  “I’ve got another waiting for you, traitorous coward!” I readied the fireball and held it high in my hand, trying to use the projected light to see where he’d scampered off to. The ceiling was an amber glow of still-smoldering roots, the smoke billowing up and out through the holes.

  This was just great. I had never looked too deep into the Illusionist skill tree during my time on the development team, which felt like a real damn shame at this very moment. If I knew a few of his spells, other than “my worst nightmares come to life,” maybe I could resist them.

  I knew it was mostly mind games—nothing was actually touching me or hurting me. But, Otto said if I lost my cool, that’s when he’d really gain control, and the illusions would become real, and then they could hurt me or kill me. I needed to stay calm, levelheaded, and focused. This turdsack was guilty, and I was going to get it out of him.

  I took a few steps forward. “Why on the night of your sister’s death didn’t you stop her from going? If you knew it was a trap, and she would very likely die, why didn’t you just detain her?”

  The audience was dead silent, awaiting his reply, but he refused to answer.

  “Or if you couldn’t stop her, why not go to protect her? Were you too afraid?”

  Silence.

  The ground sloped near a thick root, and I took my steps slowly. “Or maybe you didn’t care if she died? Which was it, Patrick: fear, or apathy?”

  A figure stepped out from behind a root five feet from me, and I launched my fireball. My breath caught in my chest as the flaming orb sailed toward my cancer-stricken father, his frail face melting from a smile to terror.

  “No!” I leapt forward, reaching out to drag the spell back into me, but it hit with an explosive bang before I’d taken a step. The point of impact rippled and changed him, turning his skin to ash as he bloated from the scrawny man I knew to a hulking apelike creature with needles for fur and lava dripping from its wide-open maw.

  A Balrigon.

  The creature beat its massive fists on the ground, then its chest, and charged. My gut was telling me to brace for impact and my primal instinct told me to dodge, but I stood my ground and readied another fireball.

  It was just an illusion. You didn’t kill your father and turn him into a monster. The beast raised a clawed fist to strike me, but as the limb came down, it passed through me, rippling like a faulty hologram.

  I hoped that his spells had a limited range, and he would be nearby. I picked a spot fifteen feet from me, tossed the fireball, then cast Smokescreen. The ball of flame burst and lit up the dark corners of the thick root forest just as the air filled with black. Then, a magically wondrous thing happened. A notification appeared in my vision.

  <<<>>>

  Spell Modification!

  You have combined the Smokescreen ability with Fireball, creating a Cloud of Smoldering Embers. Anything caught in the cloud has a 50% chance of gaining Burning Affliction for every second they are within the cloud, and take 5 damage per second if they are breathing.

  Cloud of Smoldering Embers inherits the duration, radius, and other effects of Smokescreen.

  <<<>>>

  Sweet! But this wasn’t the time. I waved away the notification and listened for coughing, footsteps, anything that would give away his position. The patter of light soled shoes echoed on the left. I took a deep breath and dashed through the cloud.

  The hazy outline of Patrick’s fleeing figure appeared through the smoke, and I leapt to tackle him, my hands working through a complex series of motions for Flame of Holding as we landed in the dirt. He wiggled to get free, but I pinned his arms to the ground with my knees.

  The spellcast completed and I boomed my triumph, “Admit your guilt, Patrick!”

  He grinned. “I have no guilt.”

  The figure below me burst in a puff of red embers, and my spell dissolved. Slippery bastard. I got up to one knee, but sharp pain rammed into the back of my neck and sent me falling forward as 5% of my Health dropped away. I rolled to my back and immediately unleashed Inferno Blast, but the air was empty. I cut the spell and scrambled to my feet.

  The countdown for the Death Sickness hit zero, and within a second I felt like a new woman. Stronger, faster, smarter. This jerk was going down.

  I needed to get him out of the roots and back into the light. There was a snap behind me and I whirled, ready to unleash hell, but there was nothing. Then a laugh to my left, but again, nothing. The long shadows of the roots danced in the torchlight from the arena beyond, messing with my vision. I was getting sick of the mind games.

  The roots’ shadows were wiggling much more violently than the torches’ light, and a name tag appeared in the blackness before me. [Death Fiend].

  “Abby, look out!” Otto called from the arena seating, and the crowd shrieked with terror.

  Oh shit, was this some real random monster that hid among the roots? I turned to jog back into the firelight when a root snapped up and whapped me in the leg, sending me back to the dirt and stealing another 5% of my Health. I rolled over, my hands growing clammy as chaos erupted around me. People scrambled for the exit in a mad dash.

  The Death Fiend moved like living shadow, slashing at my exposed legs, tearing my robes. I put out my hand for Inferno Blast and the spell beat against the thing’s—I don’t know. It didn’t have a form or a shape, it was just endless shadow! The creature swiped again, scoring a deep cut on my outstretched arm and dropping my Health another 10%.

  I crawled back on my elbows until the ring of torches was at my back. The creature stepped a massive cat paw into the light. Its body fidgeted, the very fur on its skin a shadow that curled away from the light’s touch. Another massive razor-clawed foot emerged, and the thing rumbled a growl from deep in its chest.

 
Otto hadn’t come to my side, hadn’t spoke again. Maybe he ran? Maybe he didn’t want to nullify the Qat’ig Gual?

  Lime-green eyes locked on me from eight feet up as the Death Fiend’s face poked out from between the roots. The thing’s body seemed to absorb all light, nothing reflecting. It was just an empty void where something should be, but wasn’t. I could hear its emptiness ready to consume me and make me empty.

  What did that even mean?

  My eyes widened as I gasped in realization. The wall between the tavern and the portal, it was just like that, and my mind wandered to strange thoughts, just the same. It had been one of Patrick’s fear tactics. This was an illusion.

  I stood, calmed myself, and stepped back into the fire’s light. “Come for me, then, Fiend. If you’re so fearsome, come into the light to claim me.”

  The phantasmic death-cat leapt from the shadows and shook the earth as it came down in front of me. The six-legged cat the size of a truck opened its mouth and roared in my face. Its cold breath blew past me, carrying the stench of rot, and I had to resist the urge to believe it was real.

  The screams of citizens drifted into the background as I stared with defiance into the chemo-green glare of Patrick’s creation. “You are guilty!”

  The creature reared back and I feared the pain that would come. I knew I couldn’t fear it, I knew that fear gave Patrick power over me. The paw slashed through the air and I popped Shell of Molten Ash on instinct. The shield popped, and I heard Patrick scream.

  The terror cries of the audience disappeared entirely. The chaos was gone. The creature was gone. It was just Patrick cradling his burned face fifteen feet back. I broke myself from the stun and threw a fireball, and another, until Patrick dropped to his knees, his Health at 35%.

  I charged, tackling him the rest of the way to the ground, then shot a glance behind me. Did I actually have him this time? Was this it?

  “Admit it. You got her killed. You betrayed the rebellion.” I pushed my hand into his sternum to hold him down and planted my knee in his gut.

  He winced, the charred skin on his face peeling back. “I have no guilt.”

  “Finish the god’s justice!” someone yelled from the crowd, and the room broke into similar demands until a unified message emerged. “Finish him, finish him.”

  I whispered, “Admit you betrayed them and I won’t kill you.”

  “Arcona will.” His face softened. “I didn’t kill my sister, I didn’t betray this rebellion. This is my home.” His eyes misted, and a single tear rolled down the side of his face to his dark brown hair.

  “I swear I will see you to a real court of justice, just admit it.”

  The crowd’s cry grew in intensity as Patrick weighed his options. Die here by my hand, die later by Arcona’s, or go to a real rebel court where he could see a cell and reform.

  He swallowed and closed his eyes, two more tears dropping as he nodded. “Let me stand?”

  My jaw tightened. I wanted to say no, do it here from the dirt, but where was he going to go? I pulled my knee off him and stood back.

  A pop-up appeared in my vision as the crowd cried out in anger.

  <<<>>>

  Spell Resisted!

  You have resisted the influence of the spell Refract! The target has tried to disappear, but you have partially resisted the effect.

  <<<>>>

  The foggy image of Patrick had a scroll in his hand when I dismissed the pop-up.

  “No!” I started the cast for Flame of Holding, and he kicked up into my knee. I crumpled to the ground with a Dislocated Kneecap debuff, and then a shimmering portal appeared above. Arcona leapt over me, her battle-axe swinging down into the brilliant white doorway as it snapped shut.

  He was gone.

  The Illusion of Threat

  “YOU LET HIM ESCAPE!” Arcona slammed her axe into the officer’s table and the other officers flinched.

  Otto stepped forward. “Jukal, it was Abby’s first Qat’ig Gual, she didn’t know—”

  “She let a murderer escape!” Arcona grabbed the axe and wrenched it free. “A traitor! An officer!” She tapped the metal of her weapon on Otto’s breastplate.

  I knew there was no point in trying to explain what I was doing. Arcona wouldn’t care for my empathy or reform. She wanted the gods’ justice. There was nothing to do but try to mitigate the damage done.

  “What can we do?” I cut her off before she could lay into Otto any more.

  She chopped the axe down into the table again. “What can you do? Go back in time, kill him when we told you to kill him. You’ve put us all at risk. Patrick has access to every portal ward, every protection ward. If he goes to the Imperials, we will be dead before sunup.”

  I puffed up my chest, though I was still two and a half feet shorter than her. “Then let’s move all the portals, change them, destroy them. Whatever we have to do to protect this place. Otto and I will go out and do it ourselves.”

  Arcona backed off, her jaw flexing as she considered my words. “It’s not as simple as you say it. Our Scrivener is... incognito. He does not reside with us. He is very secretive.”

  “Who knows about him?” Otto broke through the conversation. “Officers? Patrick?”

  Arcona stiffened. “Yes. He knows everything.”

  “We need to go get the Scrivener. He’s not safe. Then”—I pointed to Varice to take notes, and he nodded— “we need to destroy the portal wards that currently exist. This can be done concurrently. Change out the protection wards, prevent teleportation in and out of the underground, and create new topside portals.

  “Otto, Renzik, and I will go up and collect the Scrivener while another team destroys the portals. Then we’ll take him around the city, to verified friendly locations, back alleys, wherever we have to go to create new portals. Come back and secure the interior with protections.” I finished my fast-paced ramble.

  Heads around the room were nodding agreement, and I checked the game time: 8:30 PM. Cover of darkness could be good if we needed to sneak him out and around the city. This could work.

  “Arcona, Patrick was a poison, and he’s gone now.” I paused to let her feel the relief that brought. “The best we can do is protect against that poison.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she said as she flopped back into a chair and wedged her axe into the ground. “We can’t destroy the wards without the directory, it’s just not possible. We can create new ones, but without the book, the magic for the old wards can’t be undone.”

  She nodded to Varice to correct the notes as she went on, the hint of a plan shimmering in her eyes as she leaned forward. “You, Otto, and Renzik will collect the Scrivener, then you and Otto will teleport to the edge of town to board a caravan heading to the Grand Archive while Renzik escorts the Scrivener through the city to create new portals.

  “You will collect the directory and return to the DrinkZzz tavern for us to collect you. We’ll destroy the old book, christen the new one, and all will be right again. Yes?”

  A new quest alert appeared in my vision.

  <<<>>>

  Quest Alert: Rebels in need are Rebels indeed

  You’ve failed to enter the Grand Archive, but now there is more at risk. Arcona Jukal needs you to collect Eisen Mungal, the rebel Scrivener, then make a second attempt at infiltrating the Grand Archive from a new angle.

  Quest Class: Rare

  Quest Difficulty: Infernal

  Success, Step 1: Collect Eisen Mungal and deliver him back to the quarry in Renzik’s care.

  Success, Step 2: Teleport with Otto to the edge of town where an Archive caravan will pass by. Infiltrate the caravan by any means, then retrieve the Bindings Book and return to the DrinkZzz tavern.

  Failure, Step 1: Fail to return Eisen Mungal to the rebels, or Eisen dies.

  Failure Penalties, Step 1: -3,000 renown, excommunication from the Rebel faction at Alaunhylles, and removal of rank from the Òrdugh an Garda Anam.

  Failure, Step 2: Fai
l to collect the Bindings Book from the Grand Archive and return to the tavern DrinkZzz.

  Failure Penalties, Step 2: -1,000 renown, become branded traitors by the larger Eldgard Rebellion, and struggle to gain access to rebel hideouts or sympathizers throughout the world.

  Reward, Step 1: 1,000 renown, 25,000 XP, 10 gold.

  Reward, Step 2: 1,000 renown, 25,000 XP, Unique Item.

  <<<>>>

  Freaking Eisen Mungal, really? I gritted my teeth as I remembered what a pain in the ass he was, and how he’d told us he was no friend of rebels. What a lying weasel. He’d obviously done it to protect himself—he didn’t know us, and he’d had to take my claim of knowing Naitee on our word alone.

  I scanned the quest again and checked the rewards. 50,000 XP was insane! But, the failure penalties were devastating. Excommunication from the rebel group and losing his rank among the Òrdugh an Garda Anam would crush Otto’s soul, so if nothing else, we’d have to take special care in getting Eisen back.

  “Yeah,” I said, accepting the quest, “we’ll get it done, one way or another.”

  “Excellent.” Jeanette stepped in as Arcona opened her mouth. “Otto, I will take you to our tailor for a fitting. Our backup plan was to sneak into the archive disguised as historians.” She circled him, then measured the width of his shoulders with her hands. “We weren’t planning on sending a Risi, so I don’t believe anything we had made up will fit you. No, you’re definitely too big, and you’ll want to be able to have at least your chainmail on underneath.”

  She headed for the door, then turned back to look at Otto as he did not follow. Arcona waved him off with a mumbled “Dismissed,” and Otto moved to the door in three big strides.

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. In all of this mess, Otto and I still needed to collect information on the Faction Seal while we were in there. Going to the detention room, or wherever they were holding the Bindings Book in safety, would likely trigger all of the alarms. We’d have to take care of my looming quest first, and I was sure if Arcona knew that was the plan, she would have had me strung up from the ceiling and battered like a piñata.