Limitless Lands Book 4: Opposition (A LitRPG Adventure)

by Henegar, Dean

  Four guards spawned and I turned to run back to alpha. I could see the look of shock on the faces of the soldiers as claws slashed and my guard engaged. The owl bear could not ignore their ability, pausing its charge to fight the guard. I reached the formed-up company and took a position in the second rank. Looking back, I could see the owl bear biting the head off the last elite guard before turning back to face me. The creature screeched in frustration as its earlier prey had fled. The ground rumbled as the owl bear resumed its charge.

  Alpha threw a volley of javelins as the creature closed the short distance. Over a dozen javelins landed on the beast, many of which failed to pierce its thick hide. The javelins that managed to penetrate caused only minor damage, dropping the owl bear’s health bar down to ninety percent. The creature slammed into our front line, and for the first time, our shield wall failed to hold back a foe.

  The thing had too much mass. Soldiers were tossed in every direction as the owl bear bullied its way into the company formation. I found myself facing the creature’s left flank, and I activated Tessel’s Promise, launching a stream of acidic sap that began to melt fur, feathers, and eventually the flesh of the owl bear.

  The monster howled in pain, turning to attack the source of its injury—me again. Even as I launched the second and last charge of Tessel’s Promise into its face, the great claws of the owl bear struck. The right claw shattered my shield and drove through my armor and into my ribs. The left claw sliced through the steel lorica segmentata armor like it was paper, only stopping as it embedded in my shoulder. The pain took my breath away for a moment. I was at twenty-percent health and trying desperately to pull the claws from my body. The last sight I had was of the creature’s serrated beak shooting toward my head, even as alpha company drove dozens of swords into the owl bear’s body.

  You have died. You will respawn at the garrison in Holdfast in 5 minutes. You have lost 125 experience and 17 gold. Multiple deaths in a 24-hour period will result in increased penalties to experience.

  Chapter 5

  I respawned in a conveniently placed small graveyard near the garrison outside of Holdfast. I frowned; normally the game respawned me directly inside the garrison. Was something going on or was the game just reminding me how death affected other players? To die in-game so soon after dying momentarily in real life left me with an uneasy fear that was clawing to get my attention. How much time did I have left? Would the game at least let me know if I wasn’t going to make it? Too many questions to consider, so I did what I always did when faced with fears in the military: I continued the mission.

  After getting my bearings and making sure my head was still attached to my body, I jogged toward the front gate. The defensive garrison force that was assigned to man the northern transition point marched from the gate as I entered. Grabbing the first soldier that I saw from my own troops—several had spawned while we had been gone—I ordered him to follow the garrison force and let Brooks know to return here once the location was secured by the garrison troops.

  Heading into my quarters, I tried to replay what happened and what I could have done differently to avoid my latest death. I had frozen at the first sign of attack, something I was trained not to do in the military.

  There was no way I could have predicted an owl bear would appear, a monster I vaguely recall from my teenage pen and paper roleplaying days. While I couldn’t predict surprise encounters, I needed to prepare for different types of dangerous situations. I had become too reliant on the honor guard’s ability to bail me out of trouble.

  Entering my quarters, lost in thought and ignoring some snide greeting from Blevins, I was jolted into focus by the smell of sulfur. Blevins gasped at his desk, surprised as well. While we watched, a small, swirling black shape began to form in the room.

  “Blevins, alert the garrison something’s going on!” I ordered. To his credit, Blevins moved with a purpose and shot out the door and into the courtyard, sounding the alert. Running to the door myself, I felt magic energy rush into me, freezing me in place. The door slammed shut in front of me, but not before granting me a brief view of the whole garrison being held in a similar manner.

  You are under the effects of the spell Mass Hold Person. Due to the caster being significantly higher-level than the target, spell duration is increased.

  A timer in the corner of my field of vision showed five minutes and began to tick down as I was physically pulled from the doorway and deposited into Blevins’s chair. Standing next to the swirling black portal was a small red creature. The two-foot-tall creature had a pointy face and a devious, sneering expression. It held its hand over its chin as if in contemplation, tapping its index finger before speaking.

  “Sorry for the hullabaloo, pal, but I have a thing for dramatic entrances. Before you ask—because you goody-two-shoes types always ask—your soldiers are fine. I’m holding them for their protection. I’m sure they would all dutifully run in here, swinging blades around and forcing me to kill them. While I would enjoy the death and destruction, I’m on a bit of a time crunch today.

  “I know what happens next. You ask who I am and so on and so forth. I’ll cut to the chase, champ. My name is Zipzisilerpicazant—feel free to call me Zipp—and I came here to feel out if you might be amenable to a deal,” the imp said as he paused to walk around the room.

  “You see, I have a deal with your neighbor next door, and let’s just say I like to have all my bases covered. Now, I’m sure my old boy Narbos will stay true to his word, but I just really enjoy . . . well . . . a bit of mayhem and chaos. My offer is this: I’ll give you powerful upgrades that will give you and your troops a fighting chance against what’s likely to be coming for you, and in return, you sign the contract and agree to do me some little teeny tiny favor in the future,” Zipp offered.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. I really needed the boost to my force’s power, but what price would I need to pay later? For a moment, I considered trying to negotiate a better deal, but too many things were off about this guy and his offer. For one, he was obviously bonkers, not to mention the fact he was helping our enemies. No way I could ever trust this little red devil-looking fellow. The spell holding me dropped and I regained control over my body.

  I was able to look about the room once more. The swirling portal remained open, looking to me like a swirl of black smoke surrounding a door-sized opening of total darkness. Zipp continued to strut around the room, occasionally looking at me or touching objects with his spindly red fingers. He wore a simple white cotton tunic and pants; no shoes covered his comically oversized feet.

  Other than disturbingly black eyes, the creature’s skin was all varying shades of red. It finally hit me what Zipp reminded me of: a cartoon character from my childhood where the devil stood on someone’s shoulder, tempting them into doing the wrong thing. The only thing missing was the pointy tail.

  “Now don’t try any funny stuff, big guy. Take a gander . . . Go ahead . . . See what you’re dealing with before you move your hand closer to that sword of yours,” Zipp said as his information populated in my view.

  Zipzisilerpicazant, Imp, Level 40 Elite.

  “I’m not going to try anything, Zippy, or whatever your name is. What I am going to do is decline your little offer. I have no intention of tying myself up in a contract with an imp,” I said, resigning myself to being killed yet again. To my surprise, the imp didn’t fly into a murderous rage when I declined his offer.

  “Heh, Zippy . . . I kind of like that, chief. So, I get you’re the noble commander guy and don’t want to make deals with my kind—kind of speciesist, if speciesist’s a real word . . . Sorry, kind of lost my focus for a minute. I figured you would decline but was so hoping you might just take me up on it. We’d have a blast conquering the world together.” The imp paused, seeming to think for a moment.

  “Heck, I’d even consider removing the requirement that you surrender your immortal soul to me in exchange for my help. I can be really help
ful to you. Just watch,” Zipp said.

  With Zipp’s comment, a pair of muscle-bound dwarves carrying an iron-bound chest walked from the portal. The dwarves looked like they were in a trance, and a burning symbol sizzled in the flesh of their foreheads. I could hear whispers from some entity tickling at the back of my mind when I looked at the symbol for too long.

  The two dwarves dropped the chest on the floor with a clatter, turned without saying a word, and walked silently back into the portal. Zippy walked over to the chest, mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and opened it up. A pile of gleaming steel blades caught my eye as I looked in the chest. Zipp drew a gladius from the pile and then motioned for me to give him my sword.

  “Hand it over, boss. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I give you my word not to personally harm you or your soldiers as long as you don’t attack me first,” Zipp said.

  Curious as to what was going on, I handed over my sword, not that it would have done me any good to try and stab a level 40 elite. Zipp held my sword out and then clashed my blade together with the one he had taken from the chest. His blade cut through my steel gladius like it was made of cardboard. I examined the sword as he held it up for my approval. The blade had almost an oily sheen to it, and the metal seemed to flow and move about the weapon, almost as if the sword was a living thing.

  Infernal Arms: These blades are made from alloys that are found only in the Hypogean Realm. Forged by soulless dwarven slaves, these blades were to be given to an infernal army that planned to assault the surface world. Fortunately for the surface-dwellers, the army was destroyed by internal conflict.

  The gods are the only ones that know how many times that the Lands have been saved by the chaotic infighting of infernal forces. The infernal blades will always remain sharp and will ignore most non-enchanted arms and armor. Item-level 150.

  Pact with a Dark Power: Your feats of war have attracted a dark patron. This patron has decided to provide you with powerful weapons to support your cause. *This option may require the commander to perform various actions for his patron in return for this gear. What these actions may be is unknown. It is always advisable to use caution when dealing with your dark patron. Do you wish to accept this gift and the strings attached: y/n?

  The sword was amazing, and I could see the chest was full of them. A company of my soldiers equipped with these blades would be nearly unstoppable by anything close to our level. Still, the cost would be too great; his whole mention of losing my immortal soul earlier was more than disturbing. I could only imagine how the game’s AI would play that out. Visions of more game time spent trying to earn back my freedom filled my mind. This time, instead of an arena, I would have to fight my way back from the underworld. I didn’t fancy a trip to Hades or some such. Nope, I had no desire to be bound by a contract with the imp.

  I quickly hit no. Zipp just shrugged, tossed the blade back into the chest, and closed it while muttering something under his breath.

  “Oh well, I can’t win them all. I will give you credit, Raytak. You walk your talk. A lot of you goody-goody types would sell their own grandma for such a powerful upgrade. Tell you what, I’m so impressed with you that I’ll leave the chest here and all it contains for you . . . Unlocked even. Consider it a taste of what you’re missing out on.

  “Consider it also a taste of the power I may—or may not—give to your foe, Narbos,” Zipp said as he started to walk back to his portal. “Oh, one more thing really quick. Follow me,” Zipp said before walking outside. I followed, curious to see what was going to happen next. Once outside the fort, Zipp pointed to the town. The eyes of my frozen soldiers tracked the two of us as we walked out of my quarters and through the front gate of the garrison.

  “I’m a nice enough guy . . . After all, I left you the chest and everything it contains. I’m also kind of a sore loser, you see. You’ve turned out to be frustrating in that ‘I can’t corrupt you’ kind of way. I have a reputation to maintain and I can’t leave emptyhanded. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you or your men . . . but I didn’t say anything about the town.” With that, Zipp snapped his fingers and hopped his way back into the portal, smiling and waving as the portal closed with a popping sound and the faint scent of sulfur.

  The spell holding my soldiers ended. The newly freed soldiers began to rush about, looking for attackers. Blevins ran up to me, surprised by my appearance in the middle of the garrison when in his eyes I had been inside the building just a second ago.

  “Please tell me you weren’t foolish enough to make a deal with an imp. You really shouldn’t sign anything unless I examine it first,” Blevins said.

  While Blevins was talking, the sky began to darken over Holdfast. I had a bad feeling in my gut after Zipp’s last statement. Zipp’s threat proved true a moment later as the clouds forming over Holdfast began to take on a reddish-orange tint. With a loud peal of thunder, the clouds unleashed rain upon the town. This infernal rain wasn’t water; instead, it consisted of small drops of heated magma. Fire and destruction poured from the sky onto the beleaguered town of Holdfast.

  Screams of terror pierced the night as the town began to burn. The rain of fire only lasted for ten seconds or so, but that was enough to cause significant damage. The garrison force quickly went into action, gathering bandages and stretchers before running the short distance to the town. I sent all but a few of my own soldiers as well to help the townsfolk. First a Gul Dorg invasion, now a storm of fire caused by an irritated imp; this town was turning out to be the unluckiest in the zone.

  Entering the northern gate of Holdfast, I spotted several townsfolk down on the ground. They were groaning in pain or simply dead from the burning rain. Many others emerged from smoldering buildings, gawking at the damage and the growing flames.

  “Medics, tend to the injured. The rest of you, break up into squads and put out those fires before they get out of control,” I ordered. The defensive garrison troops obeyed my orders, and with the help of those soldiers of my legion that had recently respawned, they attacked the task at hand.

  The garrison sergeant and the few uninjured town guards began to gather the stunned townsfolk to form a bucket brigade. It was slow going; several shops and homes were lost to the flames, but many more were saved by our efforts. After several hours of battling the destruction, the last of the fires was extinguished.

  The imp Zippy had earned himself an enemy this day. Walking back to my quarters, I remembered that the imp had at least left me the upgraded weapons. I had completely forgotten about them in the chaos caused by the fire.

  “Private Blevins, get some soldiers in here and take the chest full of weapons to the armory. We’ll decide later how to distribute them. Have the men get an accurate count,” I ordered, hoping to equip at least a platoon with the superior weapons. Perhaps Ignominia could be upgraded and used as an elite unit? Blevins trotted out into the courtyard to gather four soldiers to carry the heavy chest.

  “You men, take the chest and get the weapons stocked into the armory,” Blevins ordered. The men tested the chest’s weight, struggling to lift it off the ground even with four of them trying.

  “We’ll need a couple of extra sets of hands to lift this thing,” one of the soldiers advised as he kicked the stout iron chest.

  “Sir, is it okay if we empty out the chest in here? We can probably lift it if it’s empty,” one of the soldiers said while opening the chest to get a feel for how much was inside. As soon as the soldier started to raise the lid, it slammed open on its own. Something shot from the chest and wrapped around the body of the curious soldier. Even as we watched, dagger-like teeth emerged from the lid and clamped down on the unfortunate victim. The soldier’s screams were cut short as his body was severed in half.

  Information appeared on my interface even as we backed away from the chest. Eyes appeared in various places around the treasure chest body of the creature as its tentacle-like appendages swayed about. The “lid” of the creature clacked togethe
r, the bony teeth making a disturbing sound as a slimy drool began to leak from its maw.

  Mimic, Level 12. Mimics are rare and deadly creatures that can change their appearance to disguise themselves as mundane objects. Lashing out with their sticky appendages, a mimic catches the unwary, drawing them into its voracious maw. Often disguised as cabinets or treasure chests, mimics hunt their preferred meal—humanoids. Capable of only limited mobility, the mimic relies on ambush to gain an advantage over its prey.

  One of the soldiers standing nearby drew his weapon and thrust at the mimic, the blade striking the side of the creature and doing no apparent damage. The tongue lashed out once more, grabbing the soldier that had struck it. I started to activate Tessel’s Promise before realizing I had used all its charges of acidic sap for the day. Instead, I summoned Goon Squad, watching as eight prisoners armed with makeshift knives sprang into existence around the room. The fearless summoned prisoners charged the mimic, raining largely ineffective blows against its surface.

  “Anyone know how to kill this thing?” I shouted as more soldiers arrived to see what the commotion was. The mimic lashed its tongue-like appendages out, grabbing goon after goon. The summoned soldiers disappeared after taking lethal damage, a game mechanic that seemed to infuriate the mimic as its feast disappeared before its very eyes. I activated the final charge of Goon Squad to keep the thing busy as the rest of us made for the exit.

  “Bring torches and some oil to douse that thing with,” I ordered. Burning the mimic seemed to be the only course of action, as our regular weapons did little to hurt it. Having to rebuild part of the garrison from fire damage was preferable to losing more soldiers in a futile attempt to kill it with sword and strength. From the corner of my eye, I caught Blevins trying to cower behind one of the supply wagons. The man didn’t even try to stand with his brothers and fight, lowering my opinion of him even further.