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

by J D Astra

  “Hush, boy,” the old man growled. “Know your place.”

  “Yessir,” he said, his tone dejected. He gave me one last glance behind his shaggy brown locks as he went to work closing up the passage.

  The room smelled of fish guts, and looked the part too. It was cold, and the various bloodied hooks hanging from the low ceiling either indicated it was a torture chamber or a place for butchering fresh fish. The carved-up swordfish on the table indicated the latter, though I’m sure the rebels could’ve used it for the former, too.

  The room had many torches, but they’d all been extinguished. There were no windows, and the only way out seemed to be a ladder on the far end of the room.

  “Arcona,” the old man said with fondness as he shook her hand.

  “Thank you, Gunter. We need to be on our way,”

  “I’ll take you!” the one-eyed boy offered with excitement.

  “You’ll keep yer silly ass right here!” the old man scolded, and the boy dropped his head, chewing his lip. “It’s dangerous out now. Imperial soldiers, Alaunhylles squads, and even The Broken are about. I think you’ll be want’n to keep yer last eyeball, am I right, Sean?”

  The boy, Sean, nodded indignantly.

  “Now,” Gunter said as he limped toward the ladder, “the people are crazed. Be about your wits on the way, some are more aggressive than others. We’ll be ready for ye here.”

  Arcona walked with him, her hand at his elbow, and I followed. “We may not come back this way, but we appreciate everything you do for us.”

  “All the same,” the old fishmonger grunted as he tapped the ladder twice, “be well, Arcona of the Soulbound.”

  “And you, Gunter.” Arcona dipped her head and dropped four silver into his hand.

  There were two heavy stomps above, and the hatch above slid away. Sunlight poured into the dank basement along with the sounds of what the Camoa-moa poison wrought: screams, laughter, singing, weeping, and more.

  A woman above shouted down, “Hurry!” and Arcona scrambled up the ladder.

  “Firebrand!” Sean yelled as I stepped up behind Arcona. I looked to him and he grinned. “Kick some ass!”

  It felt kind of awesome being a minor celebrity, even if my fame was built mostly on lies. I gave Sean a quick fist pump and climbed up behind Arcona. The woman at the top ushered us up with a frightened expression, and I wondered if she’d accidentally ingested some water. We’d warned as many rebel-friendly contacts as we could not to drink the well water today.

  Arcona turned and grabbed me by the back of my bright red robe, then pulled me free of the ladder and set me down on the floor of the tiny storefront. The window that opened to the fish displays revealed the discord in full swing outside.

  We were at the very edge of the wharf where it met the market, and the people were moving about, not in the fashion of busy fishermen and hungry patrons, but of wards at an insane asylum. Some danced, skipped, or stumbled, some were huddled in the corner holding their heads, and some were lying prone in the streets.

  A child, no more than five, stood at the edge of the alley across the street, wailing as she swung her arms out in front of her at nothing. Remorse punched me in the gut as I suddenly realized what we’d really done. Could the poison affect these children long-term? How many of them would die in this mess we’d created just for three men? They were innocent, and it was my fault they were suffering.

  “Firebrand!” Arcona’s rough voice snapped me to the present. “We must go!”

  The woman who’d let us up climbed into the hole to the basement, grabbing the door with her. She slammed it home and I heard it lock from the inside.

  “Now!” Arcona yelled again, and I ran to her side. She gripped my shoulders and shook me. “There’s no time for feelings right now, only action. Stay beside me at all times, and do not stop for anything.”

  Glass shattered as a man toppled through the front window of the shop, landing on the catch of the day in a bloody mess. His face was sliced at the brow, a huge flapping gash the bled in rivers.

  Arcona jerked me forward through the open door. “Stay beside me!” she screamed over the rabble as people ran about the street in pure mayhem.

  She took off at a jog and I ran to keep up. Her head turned left and right as she watched the mob, waiting for them to make a single move in our direction. Imperials and Peacekeepers scrambled through the streets, detaining the crazed and rescuing the endangered. Some Peacekeepers ran about with the crowd in a disorderly haze, adding to the commotion. It was the perfect distraction for our mission, but with a heavy price that would leave me with immeasurable regret.

  The crowd of the crazed and oblivious was growing more and more thick, and ahead we could see a blockade of Vastatores Vitae. The massive armored Risi marched forward in rows of twenty or more, completely blocking the road.

  “Citizens, calm yourselves! You’re all safe!” a Dawn Elf man at the head of the battalion shouted, his voice extraordinarily loud, likely by some magical means. His command seemed to slow some of the more calm citizens, but not enough.

  Arcona grabbed my arm as she made a hard right into a dark alley crowded with teary-eyed children and parents who clung to them tightly. She ran, holding my arm tighter as my feet faltered.

  My Stamina was getting low, and there was no way for me to recuperate outside of resting. I panted hard and pushed myself though my legs screamed for mercy. The neckline of my robe was getting tight as the sweaty garb was snug against my chest and arms.

  “Arcona,” I wheezed as we turned another tight corner into an alley filled to the edges with people pushing and shoving their way around. They were trying to escape the Vastatores Vitae.

  “I know,” she growled. “Climb up on my shoulders!” She dropped to one knee and I climbed up. She ran to the edge of the building behind us, a short thing with a sturdy looking storm drain.

  “Get up there!” Arcona screamed and jumped up. I latched onto the storm gutter, and it held my weight. Arcona pushed my feet onto her shoulders and jumped again. I flew over the edge of the roof and landed with a heavy thud.

  Arcona roared from the pandemonium in the alley, a new wave of terrified citizens washing her along with them as they charged toward the only escape they knew.

  “Arcona!” I screamed as I gained my feet.

  “I’ll make my own way!” she yelled and turned her back.

  The roofs of the market were short, with soft curved angles and slick shingles. I opened my map and dropped a waypoint onto the Champion’s Statue, through the business district. The minimap dotted the way for me, with a route adjustment that included staying on the rooftops.

  I looked down the alley, searching for Arcona. I didn’t want to do this without her, I didn’t think I could. Even with the fake Faction Seal turned flash grenade, Sandra would shred me. If she didn’t, the remaining soldiers in the war district would. I cursed her, cursed her absence, and cursed my fear.

  I inhaled deeply and focused my eyes on the tip of the Champion’s sword. I had nothing to lose. If I died, I died trying, but if I let my cowardice keep me from saving my friends, I would have truly lost.

  With the ocean ramparts on my right, the sun overhead, and a fire in my belly, I ran.

  Battle of the Babes

  I CREPT AROUND THE corner, hiding in the tiny shadows of the business district. Vastatores Vitae patrols, headed by Dawn Elf Peacekeepers shouting words of comfort, marched through the streets, herding the masses of terrified citizens.

  The Champion’s Statue was a lot bigger than it seemed from the wharf. It was at least half the size of the Statue of Liberty. The shadow it cast was large, but unfortunately pointed the wrong direction for my approach. As if it mattered; I wouldn’t be stealthing up on Sandra.

  The gate to the war district was in stark contrast to the buildings of the business district. The business buildings looked similar to the residents’: white stone, bronze and iron railings, thick windows with painted b
anners announcing the building’s purpose. They were organized, almost cookie-cutter. The war district looked distinctly Roman in architecture though it was all still the same white stone as the rest. It had swooping arches, tall columns, and complete symmetry. It was Imperial for sure.

  The giant purple electrified barrier that ran along the backside of the war district, boxing in the Keep and the archive, was hopefully not Imperial technology. I didn’t want this to be what we were up against in the fight with Osmark and his aristocracy.

  With a final shout, the nearby patrol marched out of sight. I straightened from my crouch and stole forward at a jog. The wide-open gate didn’t sound an alarm at my entering, so I kept on moving toward the base of the statue. The barrack-like grounds backing the statue were devoid of movement, and even the guard station was empty. It seemed everyone was out collecting the Camoa-moa poisoned citizens.

  I touched the plaque adorning the solid white statue of a Dawn Elf man in plate armor, a sword raised high in his right hand. Where the hell was she?

  “I’ve come,” I said, betting she was in range to hear me. “Show yourself.”

  Steel pressed against my throat, and I gulped back my gasp.

  “You’ve sure done a number on the city. You are just the type of monster you say you fight against.” Sandra’s venomous voice raised the hackles on my neck. “I didn’t expect something so clever from you, with so little time to get it done. You are truly resourceful.”

  “Did you come here to talk about your lack of foresight, or do you want the Faction Seal?” I growled the words though the truth in what she said stung deeply. I knew what I’d done to save Otto was wrong, but I couldn’t let him die, or be tortured.

  Her blade slipped up to my cheek as Sandra circled around me.

  “Show it to me.” Her pale pink lips pulled back in a snarl.

  I straightened up and took a deep breath. “Show me my friends.”

  She scoffed at the word. “They’re code, not friends. We programmed Mr. Staldain to like you! I thought you better than most would understand that.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s more than his programming, and so are the rest of them.”

  Her face broke from its snarl and shifted to one of bemused disgust. “I can’t believe it. You really think these things are sentient?” She barked a laugh. “Never mind, why am I even arguing with you? Your stupidity is getting us both exactly what we want, so show me the seal, and I’ll show you to your friends.”

  “I may have transitioned to the game in the dark, Sandra, but it wasn’t yesterday. Show me Otto, or I walk away.”

  She lunged forward, gripping the back of my head with feral force. “I could just steal it from you now and then take you with me to Mr. Carrera.”

  “I don’t think you can,” I sneered, gritting my teeth as she pulled my head back.

  She bared her teeth. “Fine, let me take you to your precious NPC. He’s being conditioned for the Vastatores Vitae right now, just behind those doors,” she said as her eyes flicked to the structure behind the statue. “I’ll let you watch him turn, and then”—a malicious grin spread over her face—“I’ll let him drag you back to Mr. Osmark.” She pulled hard, tossing me to the ground at the base of the Champion’s statue. Distance, I needed distance for this to work.

  “Okay!” I yelled, and she halted her advance. She was out of arm’s reach, but not much farther than that. I gained my feet, taking a step back as I did and getting another foot of distance between us.

  I opened my inventory and selected the fake seal, sighing as I did. When I closed the menu, Sandra’s gaze was locked on the disk clutched in my hand. Her eyes flicked up to my face, and I could see the next move in her mind.

  I threw the fake seal down just two feet from her, casting Burning Affliction on it as I did. The last thing I saw before covering my face was the outline of a mad Sandra, diving for the object with both hands and eyes wide open. The fake seal went up in a blinding flash, but my eyes were closed tight. Sandra shrieked, then cursed, her voice a high-pitched growl.

  I opened my eyes and pulled my hands forward for Inferno Blast as I triggered Fire Inside. Sandra was at point-blank range, rubbing her hands into her eye sockets as the continual stream of curses flew. Flames shot from my palms and ripped over her body. The same drawing feeling I’d felt every time I used the spell, like blood being sucked away, drained the fire from my belly.

  But the well of hate in me for Sandra was deep, and burned bright.

  She rolled to the side but I turned, following her as her Health dropped in two percent chunks every second. One, two, three Burning Afflictions stacked up on her as she blindly ran from the heat of my fury. I cut the spell, my Spirit down by half, and slapped a Leeching Smolder on her for the regen.

  Her bald, scorched skull was cracked and bleeding from the fourth-degree burns, and she stumbled as she groaned from the pain. She was down to 50% Health and reaching blindly for a potion. I kicked at her fumbling fingers—but yelped as I was pulled from the ground. I landed on my back with a thud and gasped. Sandra pounced on my legs, her milky-white eyes wide open and bloodshot.

  Pain burned in my gut as she stabbed down into me. The same tingly poison crept into my abdomen, but before she got another stab off, I cleansed myself with Sorceric Blessing. The dagger jabbed down into my stomach and I lurched forward, twisting myself in agony as I gained the upper hand and moved to pin her down.

  Sandra wiggled away, her blood-slick skin slipping out of my grasp. She gained her feet and pulled the second dagger from its holster.

  “You’re mine now, Abby Hollander!” She darted forward.

  In a blink, I cast Blazing Weapon. A fiery javelin popped into my hands with a crackle, and my Agility skyrocketed along with my Stamina.

  I sidestepped her sloppy advance, slashing down at her exposed back as I did. Sandra howled and darted to the side as her Health dropped another 5%.

  “Coward, fighting a blind woman!” Sandra stepped back, her head tilting as it awaited my response.

  I’m not that dumb, bitch. I leapt forward, my spear aimed at her heart. She dodged, but too late, and my javelin ripped through the side of her armor, searing her flesh as it did. She growled and clamped her arm against the spear. Her hand closed down on the shaft of my weapon and she yanked hard to pull me in close.

  I let go, diving behind the statue as I dismissed Blazing Weapon with a bang. Sandra screeched in agony as chunks of her splattered against the ground. The explosion had ripped her arm apart up to the elbow and dropped her Health into the red at 15%. She turned ninety degrees to the open gate and ran like a bat out of hell. I scrambled to my feet, but by the time I was moving toward her, she’d vanished in a puff of black smoke.

  I could pursue her, I could kill her... but she would respawn. Otto wouldn’t, and neither would Renzik or Eisen. The building behind me was open, the doors to the interior were ripped off their hinges or left ajar in the haste of a speedy departure. We’d done a number on the city’s catastrophe planning, I was sure of it.

  The chaos in the streets was still in full swing. Every few seconds a loud, calming voice could be heard above the rest, trying to bring solace to the poisoned masses. It was a good mitigation, one that screamed of compassion. The leadership could’ve left the people tweaking in the streets, but chose to try and calm them to reduce the number of incidents and fatalities.

  A cry drew my attention, not because it was close, or filled with agony, but because it was Otto. He was calling out a name in anguish that only he would possibly call for. “Kayleen!”

  I ran, listening for the sound of his voice as I went. There was no way I could call back to him, for if he was truly being conditioned for service with The Broken, he could be surrounded by soldiers, or who knew what. All I knew was having the element of surprise was better than assuring Otto of my imminence. He might not even be able to hear me.

  The open courtyard beyond the door was littered with practice swords and
dummies. I looked left and right, hoping for some sign, but both directions looked identical; thin columns lined the patios, and beyond that were doors. The rooms lining the inner area were numbered, but held no other indications of purpose.

  “Abby, no!” Otto’s tormented cry reached me from the left, and I tore after it. I’m coming, buddy, just hold on.

  I moved through another low archway and turned right at the sounds of muffled agony. The next courtyard was shaded in unnatural darkness, blackness, like the one in the DrinkZzz tavern.

  “She was ripped apart, limb from limb and dragged through the streets,” came the voice of a man delighting in his description of some poor woman’s death. “She cried out for mercy, and you weren’t there to give it to her. You failed!”

  “No,” Otto sobbed. “No!”

  My vision narrowed and I could see nothing but the black and what I knew was behind it. Patrick, that traitorous monster. This was probably all he’d ever wanted, and he let a city suffer in anguish for it. His hate ran deeper than I could’ve imagined.

  “It’s not real,” I whispered to myself as I put my hand against the darkness and pushed through it. The air was cold and thick, but not impassable. I stepped through the veil of dark, the cries of my friend driving me forward.

  Lift the Veil

  “NO, PLEASE! KAYLEEN! Abby!”

  My heart ached at Otto’s muffled cries for his sister, for me, as I pushed through the inky black of Patrick’s illusion. I stumbled forward, faster than was really safe, as his torment went on. I would not show Patrick mercy this time. The V.G.O. gods were real to the citizens, and I would enact their justice.

  Or maybe I would fail. Maybe Patrick would slip through my fingers, just like Sandra had. Worse, maybe he’d break Otto before I could save him. Then Patrick would evaporate into thin air before my eyes and transcend as a god himself.

  No, it was just the spell trying to mess with my head. I quickened my pace as the end of the black cloud drew near. Light from the other side shone through the murky darkness, and I clung to the thought of seeing Otto alive and bringing Patrick to the only justice that could be served to a man like him. He was not a god, not a demon or some indestructible force. He was frail, flesh and code, the same as Otto.