The Phantom Castle (The Way of the Shaman: Book #4) LitRPG series

by Vasily Mahanenko

  Like a cork from a champagne bottle, I came flying out of that door and slammed painfully against the opposite wall. Phew! A sense of relief gave me the chance to think again…One thing was clear—the first corridor was closed to me, since feeling all that again was…was…You know what, no, this was no way to go about things! It was time to reexamine my logs. It was time to stop thinking like an ordinary NPC and start thinking like a player!

  16:45:23 Corridor of trials chosen: Fear.

  16:45:24 Player subject to psychic attack: Fear Level 1.

  16:45:26 Player subject to psychic attacks: Fear Level 2; Paralysis Level 1.

  16:45:31 Player subject to psychic attacks: Fear Level 3; Paralysis Level 2; Stress Level 1.

  A psychic assault…What a bunch of jerks!

  I glared angrily at the first door. From here on out, I am going to forget that the other doors even exist—if I can’t make it through the corridor behind the first door, then there’s no point in calling myself a Shaman. To hell with my training and the trial—I am now faced with a personal test. My own personal trial…

  I had no success summoning a Spirit that would block psychic attacks, even though I tried my hardest for an hour. My head began to ache again, but now at least I understood why—the Supremes, at the behest of the developers, had blocked my normal summoning ability. I would have to traverse this corridor on my own, without resorting to any undocumented functions.

  “One day, a son was born to the head of the Dragons. The lizards decided to celebrate this momentous occasion in their customary manner—by destroying several settlement in honor of their masters, sacrificing to them the souls of the cities’ inhabitants. Twenty cities were razed to the ground, but that did not suffice for the Tarantulas—they had become too satiated with the souls of these races and wanted some new essence. This was when they decided to taste Dragon. They confronted the head of the Dragons with a demand—either he or his son…The next day, following the sacrifice, the head of the Dragons and his brood were seen flying over Barliona as if nothing had happened. Twenty cities and his own flesh and blood—he was ready to surrender the entire world to the Tarantulas’ paws, so long as he could retain his power…”

  The Siren refused to shut up, spinning her tales about the Dragons. Now she’d cooked up a story about how Draco was sacrificed to the Tarantulas, who consumed his essence. Lies and provocations! If that had actually happened, it wouldn’t have been possible to reincarnate Draco as my Totem! There’s nothing left to reincarnate once the essence’s been destroyed! On the other hand—if this story really had happened, I’d definitely feel a bit uncomfortable as a Dragon. Who would enjoy being the son of a killer, a traitor and a generally weak creature? One doesn’t choose one’s parents—but one can always be disavow them…Wait! What’s got into me? I’m trying to deal with a psychic attack here, not my sentiments regarding the Dragon race!

  With enormous difficulty, I suppressed my desire to enter design mode and craft myself some anti-psychic item. Despite all my self-esteem, I would never believe that the devs had tailor-made a special Dungeon for me. No—no doubt several Shamans had already completed it and the Siren was a mere member of some larger supporting cast. The filling always remains the same—even as the garnish changes to taste. So it followed that—were I to use my Jewelcrafting abilities—I would perhaps conquer the corridor and yet lose my right to call myself a Shaman. Only now did I understand that the ‘right’ thing for me wasn’t gold or other players’ opinions of me, or even my relationship with Stacey! No, the right thing for me, the most important thing for me, was myself! The person I really was and not the tinsel and ornaments that surrounded the true me! Not the person who everyone tries to hide from themselves beyond the screens of daily life, rules and habits, excuses such as ‘I’ll get to it on Monday’ or ‘first thing in the morning.’ The true person—the kind of person who can ask himself Dostoevsky’s question: ‘Whether I am a trembling creature or whether I have the right?’

  Who am I really?

  My next approach to the door was easier. Calling on my emotions, anger and certainty that I had to go through with it, I managed to scatter my fear. It’s worth noting that my logs made no mention of psychic attacks, and yet last time I had great difficulty even grasping the door handle. Now however, I had no difficulty at all opening the door and staring into the long corridor leading into the darkness beyond. It looked like I would have to go all the way…

  17:21:11 Corridor of trials chosen: Fear.

  17:21:15 Player subject to psychic attack: Fear Level 1.

  A trembling passed through my body. My muscles tensed as if expecting a blow. I pursed my lips and held my breath, yet the Fear Level 1 attack felt entirely bearable. At the same time, I realized quite clearly that I if continue to move forward, I will collapse in a paroxysm of savage panic. Something had to be changed…

  …Elemental Shaman Class confirmed…

  Looking through my logs for some hint, I came across this entry from an hour ago. I was about to scroll onward, but my eyes kept returning to this entry: ‘…Elemental Shaman…’ The Supremes had confirmed that I was an Elemental Shaman in their view, and not a High Shaman, so…so it made sense to operate within the bounds of my newly-updated class…

  I reached into my bag for the Tambourine. The item that defined me as a Shaman, the one that enabled me to summon Spirits…Wait! What if the Tambourine’s purpose isn’t to summon Spirits? What if has some other function? Back at the mine, I had managed to summon the Spirits with an ordinary pick—I only acquired the tambourine later on. And yet despite all this, the tambourine is the main tool of any Shaman, including a Great Shaman…

  Backpedaling out of the corridor of fear, I sat down before the doors again and tried to hash out my thoughts. Something told me that I was digging in the right direction. And so!

  First—a Shaman needs a tambourine with which to summon Spirits with. At the same time, he may perform the summon without the tambourine—as has been proven several times.

  Second—a Shaman must have a tambourine. It is one of the main attributes that distinguish his class from other classes. When a Shaman reaches the level of Great Shaman, he no longer has to use the tambourine, because something happens. What that something is—is the question I need to answer right now.

  Third—the Altar…Even though he can summon Spirits, a Shaman incurs a penalty that can be mitigated if he makes a sacrifice on the altar to the Spirits. This raises a natural question: What does the tambourine have to do with anything, if the penalty is applied regardless?

  A wicked thought crept into my mind—what if the tambourine isn’t exclusively for summoning Spirits? What if it has another purpose? The head of the Thricinians told me that I had strayed from the Way of the Shaman and can only return to it if I help another player become a Shaman. But what if I misunderstood him?

  The Shaman has three hands…

  Kamlanie: a class-specific mechanic that allows the Shaman to summon Spirits. I pulled up Spirit Summoning Mode and immediately ceased drumming the tambourine. I waited for the Mode interface to vanish and struck the tambourine again. The head of the Thricinians had said that I had to forget what I had read in the book, since wisdom could not be transmitted through paper. One cannot be a Shaman by name only and not in spirit.

  He was right and wrong at the same time. I agree—it is difficult to understand, and more importantly accept, what is written in a book. Sometimes it’s even impossible. This is why I’d read it more to increase my Spirituality stat than to become stronger. But what if everything that was written in the book was true after all? What if it made sense to speak of shamanism only when the Shaman’s soul was flying or seeking in the realm of psychic reality? And kamlanie serves to induct a person into a special state that resembles sleep—and that the Spirit Summoning Mode has absolutely nothing to do with any of this?

  “…Kamlanie is an act of artistic creativity. If a writer or artist discovers new knowled
ge through their work, then a shaman discovers it through kamlanie. The need to practice kamlanie, is an inner urge. It begs quietly for a chance to surface, like any other human urge, and indulging it brings peace and well-being—while ignoring it, brings torment…”

  These lines from the Shaman book appeared in my mind, suddenly gaining meaning. This is what I was doing, pronouncing my key phrase even as a High Shaman! At an instinctual level, I felt that I needed kamlanie, despite the fact that I could summon Spirits without it. This is why I had one foot still planted on the Way of the Shaman without even knowing it myself! Kamlanie wasn’t a mere class mechanic: it was the driving internal urge of any Shaman…and one of the main challenges was realizing and accepting this urge! Why, a player could play as a Shaman for a hundred years without recognizing the depth that Kalatea had invested in this class! I am sure now that in real life she is either a shaman or, considering where she resides, a sorceress. Only someone who profoundly understood the principles of shamanism could recreate such subtlety in a virtual game.

  “…He who invokes kamlanie must either sense or see the spirits. This takes place in a state of heightened awareness and active fantasy. Frequently, fear plays a helpful role in this, regardless of its grounds. A Shaman cannot make full use of the spirits in an ordinary frame of mind. He must enter a state of awareness of the third reality through whatever means is convenient to him. Once in this state, he can see the spirits and work with them, even as his mind continues to perceive our world. A Shaman is a person who is captivated by his imagination. Unlike everyone else, he trusts it…”

  Opening my eyes, I stared at the wall before me, utterly unaware of it. How foolish I was! It didn’t matter how powerful the Spirits I summoned were—their strength was secondary. Spirit Summoning Mode had been invented as a cover for those who were incapable of comprehending the true powers of a Shaman—which reach much further than the ability to quickly summon eight entities from their slots. If I am right, Kalatea had conceived of something else in our class and I was about to test how right I was about it. Either I remain an ordinary Shaman, as the Siren considers me to be, or I will become her apprentice—despite the war between our races!

  The Shaman has three hands…

  Again, my legs wavered treacherously, a shiver gripped me, but I managed to take ahold of myself and struck the Tambourine. Boom! The echo scattered along the corridor, rending the ageless silence. Boom! A second beat followed the first. Boom!

  … and behind his back a wing…

  Step—boom! Another—boom! A third—boom! The even beating of the tambourine bewitched me, filling me with its cadence. Strange—I can see the corridor and I know that I am walking along it, but at the same time it’s like I’m in a different place where the corridor’s psychic attacks cannot reach me.

  … from the heat upon his breath…

  Ten steps—boom! Boom! It became more difficult to walk, as if a powerful wind was blowing against me, trying to topple me to the ground, so I increased the tempo of my beat. That part of my consciousness that remained in the corridor was going insane—it was not simply terrified, it was fogging over, spewing fantastic images, painting pink elephants and flapping crocodiles—yet kamlanie allowed me to retain a second part of myself. One that was somewhere far away, in a place that the corridor could not reach…

  Shining candle-fire springs…

  “Greetings, Great Shaman!” boomed a mighty voice, forcing my split consciousness back together—the one that was all but dead in the corridor of fear and the one that was far away. The corridor vanished and I found myself in a round stone room, devoid of any decoration whatsoever. Across from me, a transparent, watery vortex wavered in place, embroiled in some chaotic dance. It resembled the elemental we had fought in the Dark Forest, albeit more transparent and somewhat different in form. “I am pleased to see you in my domain. I am the Supreme Spirit of Water. All of the Spirits that you summon are my children.”

  You have acquired a new class ability: Communication with Supreme Elemental Spirit. You may now speak with the Spirit of your Element and through him summon entities that far exceed your own rank.

  “You have taken a long time to reach me, Shaman!”

  “I have indeed,” I agreed. “Perhaps I never would have come at all, if not for the Siren.”

  “Nashlazar is a very wise Shaman,” roared the vortex. “When you become her apprentice, heed her every word and gesture. She is the only one who can help you become a Harbinger. Kornik and Prontho are her apprentices and have already done everything they could. They cannot lead you beyond the level of High Shaman. You are in the midst of a trial right now, so it is best that you return to your world. I hope that you have learned now how to properly visit me, and I hope to see you many more times. We shall meet again soon, Shaman!”

  Great Shaman confirmed.

  Another flash—and the room with the Elemental Spirit changed back into the corridor of fear—which no longer had any fear in it. A simple corridor with walls of stone receding into the distance. Turning around, I saw the open door I had used to enter—I had only managed ten to fifteen steps…It’s scary to even consider the intensity of the mental assault that a player would experience in another hundred meters. Why, it might make one lose one’s mind!

  “…When Karmadont set in motion the cataclysm that would bury all the Tarantulas, the Dragons made an attempt to seize power in this world. The tears and groans of thousands of sentients soared to the sky, forcing Eluna to descend into our sinful world. Children, elders and women were being burned alive. They were being destroyed solely because they hadn’t any wings. Eluna expelled the majority of the Dragons to the other world, but a few of them remained. And so a bloody hunt got underway…”

  An interesting take on the events that I had already heard about from the Guardian of the treasure vault. So it turns out that the Dragons left because Eluna asked them to? And yet they were involved in xenocide? That’s bad of course, but…No, it’s just bad and I can understand the Plague sacrificing her life to fight these winged monsters. Remembering how the girl reacted when I turned into a Dragon—the horror that filled her eyes…The developers had struck the very chords one prefers to leave alone—one’s care for children.

  I continued to walk down the corridor, but the Siren’s last statement refused to let go of me. Karmadont had triggered the cataclysm, uniting the disparate peoples into the Empire. It follows that there were people living in the world during the reign of the Tarantulas…Of course! The Tarantula Cult! It’s clear now where it came from—a faction of humans obsessed with power (like the Dragons) decided to resurrect their onetime rulers. This really does help clarify the description of the Eye of the Dark Widow. And yet, why doesn’t it mention that it was Karmadont who’d triggered the cataclysm? I know so little about both of my races…well, at least now I’m curious to find out more…

  “You have completed the Labyrinth of Desires, Shaman!” I walked two hundred meters or so down the corridor, went around the corner and came face to face with Nashlazar. The Siren continued to look on me haughtily as if my success had meant nothing to her whatsoever. By the way, it’s strange, but basically, I had only faced two trials—Draco and the doors. How did I manage to miss out on the High Shaman title? Are they really going to demote me after all?

  “Harbinger,” I greeted my senior.

  “I can’t believe it,” the Siren smirked. “The Dragon bows before a Siren!”

  “My being a Dragon makes me no better and no worse than a Siren,” I replied. “At the moment, I am not a Dragon, but a Great Shaman who wishes to become a High Shaman.”

  “Yes, you are a Great Shaman at the moment. It is downright amazing that you managed to progress so far into the labyrinth. Yet I wasn’t mistaken about one thing—your mere desire to become High Shaman was not enough to pass the third trial. After all, you are a Dragon—the same weak, powerless, jealous gecko as the ones I used to know! You shall never become High Shaman,
for to do so, one must have something that is utterly alien to a Dragon—the will and the ability to sacrifice that will.”

  “The Harbinger is mistaken,” I said as calmly as I could. If the Siren likes to speak meanly, let her. I’ll use it to my advantage. “I am prepared to face the last trial and become High Shaman.”

  “It is you who are mistaken, Great Shaman,” said Nashlazar, suddenly stripping any hint of condescension from her voice and shaking her head sadly. “You have grasped the meaning of being a Great Shaman—the ability to speak with your Elemental Spirit. And yet, you are a Dragon…You can try to become a Dragon and summon any Spirit—and I assure you, you will learn many interesting things. You have shown yourself to be a very capable Shaman—perhaps the only one next to Kalatea who really understands the basis of shamanism—yet you can progress no further. My condolences…

  Summoning Spirits is prohibited while in Dragon Form.

  Hmm, really…I can’t for the life of me recall whether I ever summoned Spirits while in Dragon Form, but if the Siren is lying, then…

  “I realize you have no reason to believe me,” repeated Nashlazar sadly. “Before your trial, I warned you that I would lie to you and try to lead you from the path, but such are the rules of this trial. You would not have become a Great Shaman, if you hadn’t managed your own emotions and answered me. That was a trial that you passed with honor. But even in the labyrinth, I never once lied to you.”

  “Not even once?” I couldn’t restrain my sarcasm. “Certainly not when you sent Renox’s son as a sacrifice to the Tarantulas. Were his essence truly consumed, he would never have been able to become my Totem!”