Unlucky Dead: A LitRPG Adventure (Liorel Online Book 1)

by M B Reid

  The monster started swinging even more wildly in front of itself, occasionally slashing off to one side or the other. I was forced to go in a wide circle around him to keep out of his range. As I came up behind him to strike at his spine my cloaking ability wore off.

  With preternatural reflexes the creature rounded on me, throwing all his strength behind one big swing. There was no stopped it, no getting out of the way. I stood motionless as the enormous sword caught me in the ribs. Pain lanced through me and my health bar plummeted. It all but vanished from view as a tunnel of darkness began to close in at the edges of my vision. This was the end of the game for me. The end of everything.

  The rat-beast was leering at me, it’s big yellow eyes consuming all of my tunnelled vision.

  I threw the last of my strength into one final swing, aiming directly for those yellow orbs. Maybe I’d be remembered as a hero if I could save Logan. The axe hit home and it was as if a light had been switched off. The life went out of the creatures eyes.

  Then the world went dark.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Azoth! Yo, dude, you in there?” The voice drifted from the void sending ripples through my otherwise empty mind. I recognised it, but trying to grasp who it belonged to was like trying to run through treacle.

  “Come on man, you’re alright.” Light accompanied the voice this time. A pinprick of white in the distance. I suddenly felt like I was on a train rushing through a tunnel. The light in front of me grew larger by the second.

  “You stupid oaf, wake up” Logan shouted.

  The light enveloped me, brighter than a thousand suns. I tried to close my eyes but my dead eyelids wouldn’t budge. The light was swallowing me whole.

  Logan’s skull loomed over me, and behind him was a bright blue sky. Birds sang somewhere in the distance, their voices being warped as a gentle breeze carried the sound to us.

  I was alive.

  “Dude!” Logan exclaimed, patting me on the shoulder.

  “You had me worried for a moment there. You must have had just one health point left.” The health bar in the corner of my vision popped into focus, rapidly refilling from the very bottom.

  “I’m… we killed it?”

  “You killed it man, one final swing. I thought you were a goner.” Logan stood up, giving me a little more room. My body ached. Being alive certainly had its downsides.

  “I got knocked out?” I asked, looking around. Logan was telling the truth, the rat-beast was still on the ground.

  “Yeah, I asked Jira about that while you were out. If your health drops below 5% there’s a chance you’ll pass out, even for the undead. Every time you take damage after that the game does another consciousness roll. Looks like you got unlucky on the first hit.” His words chased each other out in a quick jumble. Logan seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

  “Shit, that sucks.” I muttered, not sure what else to say. I’d survived off pure luck. What were we thinking going off and doing these quests? We should have stayed back at the dungeon and waited for some other suicidal idiot to solve all the problems. Head to the Winchester, buy a pint, and wait for this all to blow over. You know, the sensible plan.

  I sat up slowly, expecting to feel a jab of sharp pain. My bones creaked a little in protest, but the pain was all but gone. I glanced at my health bar and saw that it was near full. Living in a video game certainly had it’s perks. No need to sit around for months of down time after damn near being cleaved in half. Just a little nap and a few minutes out of combat.

  “Please tell me we got something good for killing that guy” I said as I finally got to my feet. The scimitar was still in the dead creatures hand, it looked like Logan hadn’t raided anything.

  “I figured you earned the right to first loot” He shrugged, looking pointedly at my axe. It looked like a dog had bitten a chunk out of the handle just below the axe head. It’d definitely fall apart if I swung it at anything.

  “But if there’s any magic stuff, I call dibs” he added with a laugh.

  Much to Logan’s disappointment there weren’t any magical goods to loot. The curved sword was there though, and a small prompt popped up as I examined it.

  Scimitar of Strength

  Level 3 bladed weapon

  Passive Buff: 50% Strength Increase

  The sword looked smaller than I remembered it as I pried it from the monsters hand. Its leather-wrapped handle fit me perfectly. The curved blade was heavier than it looked, but felt good. Almost as if it had been crafted specifically for me. I couldn’t tell if the strength buff had kicked in though, my backpack had been all but empty, and it was all I had to test my strength against.

  The rest of the loot was much less exciting. A reasonable pile of gold pieces, a few lumps of iron ore, a used loincloth that I was scared to touch, and a whole cooked rabbit. I left the underwear behind without inspecting it and took the rest of the loot, keeping the rabbit in hand. Sure, it was cold now, but it should be safe to eat. I offered the rabbit to Logan.

  “Want some?”

  “Actually yeah. I’m starved” He tore a leg off the glorified rodent and started gnawing on it like it was a chicken wing. I tucked into the food myself. It was tastier than I expected, though that wasn’t saying much. Bland meat, but with enough spices to make it palatable. The beast had been a better cook than I could have guessed.

  “Oh, you got any of that for Jerry?” A child's voice asked as the kobold reappeared. He was sweating slightly, as if he’d run a long way to get back to us, but his breathing was steady. I offered him the rabbit.

  “Just how far did you go to hide?” I asked, meaning to embarrass him. The kobold didn’t seem to mind.

  “Far enough that your gimpy flailing wouldn’t get me killed.” He replied, his attention focused on the meal. He didn’t seem to mind being called a coward.

  “So, what now?” Logan asked as he tore another leg off our meal.

  “We got a couple of pieces of ore out of this. But I think there must be a bunch more at their camp.” I said, looking toward the trees. There was no movement, nor were there any telltale signs of an encampment.

  “Oh yes there is!” Jerry exclaimed around a mouthful of food.

  “A deals a deal, I’ll lead you to the camp. If there are others there though, I’d appreciate you not killing them. They might join me now there’s no Leader.” He spat a rabbit bone onto the rat corpse.

  Logan and I spent the next few minutes looting the other kobolds. Jerry refused to have any part in looting his dead kin, but he didn’t stop us from doing it either. As we went about my business I noticed him pocket the rat-beasts loincloth. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

  My pickings were slim. I pocketed a few more gold coins, and added several sets to my collection of teeth. With my new scimitar in hand I had no reason to take the wooden weapons, though I noted that Logan slipped a couple of clubs into his backpack.

  “Okay Jerry, lead the way” I said as we finished up.

  “Away we go. Oh oh oh, away we go.” The kobold sang.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The sky was tinged red as the sun started to dip below the horizon when we finally made it to the trees. Jerry had tried his best to start a marching song, but neither of us were interested. Besides, I’d rather not have bleeding ears from listening to Logan try to sing.

  The little kobold was an affable fellow, but he didn’t seem to like the silence very much. Either that or he really liked the sound of his own voice. Given his penchant for turning invisible and sneaking about, my money was on the latter.

  “Oh, no fire to see? That must mean they’re all dead on the ground.” Jerry giggled as he started to wind through the trees. I’d been with him long enough to understand that his laughter wasn’t the sign of a murderous madman, though I wasn’t sure whether he was a little slow or not. He certainly seemed a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

  After another five minutes or so Jerry came to a halt. Be
yond the next clump of trees I could make out the curve of a hut or a tent. Aside from the three of us there was no motion, as best I could tell we were all alone.

  “We need to be clear. Oh yes we do. You can take what you need, but leave poor Jerry with food and some weapons. Clear?” Jerry asked. It was obvious he wouldn’t lead us the last few meters into the camp until we answered. As strange as he was, he’d grown on me.

  “Deal” I said, and Logan mirrored by agreement.

  “Excellent” Jerry quipped. He pointed to a vine that was stretched tight along the ground.

  “Just don’t go stepping on that, and we’ll all be happy.”

  He stepped over it with an exaggerated motion, like how characters crept around in old Disney cartoons. I couldn’t see what the vine was attached to, but it was clearly a trip wire of some sort. I gave myself plenty of room as I hopped over it.

  Jerry waited to see that Logan had also stepped past before venturing further. That turned out to be the only trap around the camp. We stepped into a large clearing. Trees grew thick on all sides, but there were paths through the underbrush leading off in most directions. A large fire pit was in the middle of the clearing, and small sleeping mats were arrayed around it. Two tents stood on opposite sides of the fire. One was tightly closed, the other stood with its doors wide open. It was the open tent that Jerry led us to first.

  “Not much to see I’m afraid. This was a rich tribe once, but they were traders, and the Leaders don’t like trade. Not with those behind the walls.” He muttered, stepping inside.

  I followed him into the spacious tent. At the far end was a small cot, built from thick tree branches. It was roughly long enough for me to sleep on, and I guessed it was where the rat beast had rested. In the middle of the room was a heaped pile of ore, at least a hundred pieces in all. Some rusted swords were discarded in a pile, the corrosion clear on their pitted surfaces. They’d stand more of a chance of giving someone tetanus than delivering a killing blow. Then again an infection was probably fatal in Liorel, especially for a race seemingly as dense as the kobolds.

  There was little else of note in the room. Even Jerry looked disappointed by our haul.

  “A shame I say. A crying shame. Used to be a good tribe, even thought of migrating to them back in the day.” Jerry said wistfully. He was eyeing the bed on the far side of the tent.

  “You won’t be taking that will you?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  “That, my friend, is all yours” I smiled, starting to shovel the ore into my backpack.

  Logan did a lap of the room and then excused himself to search the rest of the camp. Jerry sat down on the bed for a moment, then started giggling.

  “Oh it’s wonderful! Wonderful I say”

  I finished gathering all of the ore. I had no idea how much the blacksmith had hoped for but, if previous games were anything to go by, a hundred pieces of ore should get him started working again. I hoisted the pack onto my back. It was heavy, but not unbearable. Maybe the strength buff from the sword was proving useful. It shouldn’t be a problem to cart all the ore back to Whiteridge in the morning.

  I was already daydreaming of my payment. Between the ore for the blacksmith and the bag full of teeth for Eddard I should be able to stock up on food for a long while. Hopefully get a decent shield from the blacksmith.

  Jerry followed me out of the tent back into the camp. He fidgeted by the fire for a time, igniting it. Logan had finished his search of the camp, and had returned looking rather disappointed.

  “Seems like a big waste of time” He moaned, then looked at the sky overhead.

  “And we’re going to be walking back in the dark.”

  I ignored his complaints and looked toward the other tent.

  “Whats in there?” I asked, and Jerry jumped.

  “Oh, that’d be the meat shack. Ain’t nothing you’ll want there.” He said earnestly. I was inclined to believe him, and Logan looked like he’d already stuck his head through the opening.

  “Meat shack is right. Dead animals everywhere, starting to rot and all. Maybe that rabbit hadn’t been such a good idea.”

  I suddenly felt queasy. Sure, it had tasted good enough, but it had been cold rabbit. And if it had been stored along with everything else in a tent full of decay… I fought to keep my lunch in place.

  “Not rot. Oh please, not rot.” Jerry whined, his usually jovial demeanour now worried. Perhaps he’d been expecting the meat to have been kept in better condition as well. I wondered if it was the rat beast that had the terrible culinary sense. I mean, if they were modelled anything after the real world it would only make sense.

  “Well, I don’t need to smell that then” I joked, giving the camp one last look.

  “We’ll be off.” I announced.

  Logan nodded, and Jerry produced a couple of torches from god-knows-where. He stuck one into the fire until it burned brightly, then handed it to me. The other he left unlit, and passed to Logan.

  “Have yourself a wonderful trip back. And I do hope to see you again” He said with a dramatic bow. I thanked the little kobold then made my way back the way we’d come.

  We had a long walk ahead of us.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  We arrived back at the dungeon in the dark of night, finding it as secure as when we left. We left Logans undead minion to watch over us and settled down for a well-earned nights sleep. Despite my best intentions though, I’d only managed a few restless hours of tossing and turning before deciding I should prepare for my venture into Whiteridge.

  I studied the belt around my waist, inspecting the ability it gave me. As I thought about ritual casting the prompt changed, giving me detailed instructions on how I could cast a longer-lasting Flesh Meld.

  A gasp of horror escaped me as I read the requirements. Before I could ritual cast this ability, I needed remains from the race I wanted to imitate. That meant I needed to kill whatever race I wanted to shift into, which was insane. I wasn’t about to go around murdering innocent townsfolk - virtual or not.

  I ran through to the back room, where the kobold corpses lay. Logan hadn’t gotten around to animating any of the others yet, we were trying not to draw attention to ourselves by building an army of undead workers. The one kobold he had animated only worked at night, and only close to the dungeon.

  The dead man lay in the pile with the kobolds. The cold of the dungeon was keeping them all from decomposing, but I wasn’t sure how long it could delay the decay. The man was looking bloated now, and his flesh had turned a sort of grey. Still, he was intact enough for me to try casting the ritual.

  “Hey Jira?” I asked, and the little sprite fluttered into view.

  “Does the amount of an ingredient change how long my ritual spell will last?” I asked. Logan probably could have told me as well, but he was still snoozing. Besides, I was better getting the information from its source.

  “No, though as a general rule most rituals need about a fistful of ingredients.” She trilled with her little sing-song voice.

  “Thank you” I smiled, dismissing her. That super-happy voice of hers could really grate on your nerves after a while.

  I offered a quick prayer to a god I was pretty sure didn’t exist, then sliced the fingers off the dead mans left hand. The crunching sound of breaking bones was sickening, and I fought to keep my lunch in place. I didn’t think I would ever get used to this. I shuddered to think what Logan would have to do with the more powerful necromancy rituals.

  I returned to our sleeping room with my gory prize. The ritual took about half an hour to cast, though I wasn’t really an active participant. Once I’d elected to start the ritual my hands took over and started acting on their own. The ritual mostly involved contorting my fingers into awkward arcane symbols in the air above the dead mans fingers. I pictured the appearance I wanted in my minds eye as the game controlled my body.

  I remade myself in a rather plain image. Pale, freckled skin and dark brown hair.
I looked like just another face in the crowd, which is exactly what I was aiming for. My only vanity was to change the colour of my eyes to a striking grey. I had the right to a little creative flair didn’t I?

  When the ritual finally finished I made my way back to the surface. Logan was snoring quietly as I left.

  The streets of Whiteridge were dead when I arrived. The sun had just begun to dance across the roof of the church, casting some colour into the shadows that littered the street. The smell of fresh baking wafted from a nearby house, causing my stomach to rumble. That was another reason I’d come to town - a freshly cooked meal would go down wonderfully.

  As with my last visit, the church doors stood wide open. It seemed that the building was open to the public all the time. I approached the wide wooden doors with trepidation. My last visit had dropped a mind-blowing revelation on me, and I wasn’t sure that I was ready for another earth-shattering factoid. Especially not this early in the morning. A small irrational part of my brain started begging for a Red Bull, as if I could summon one into existence through sheer willpower. It was a surprising urge. I’d weaned myself off caffeine years ago, after graduating from university.

  The church was empty as I took a seat on an unsurprisingly uncomfortable pew. I didn’t know why I had chosen to stop at the church. I guess I was doing it to kill time, but the building had a sort of calming effect on me. Before I knew it I was fast asleep.

  I woke to a skittering sound. Like a giant rat scampering across a hardwood floor. It was followed by another long minute of silence, then came again. It was somewhere below me now, I was sure of it. Under the floorboards. My sleep-addled brain panicked for a moment, before the rational part could explain it away. Of course there would be a rat in the basement. This was a beginner city in a fantasy role-playing game. It was almost guaranteed to have an early quest to kill the rats in the basement, as a kind of introduction to combat. The priestess had probably never mentioned it because I’d already had my first fight. Aside from the barbarian and his murderer I wasn’t aware of any other players that had come through here. It stood to reason that no-one would have killed the rats. In my minds eye the image of a rat started to grow, morphing as it stood up on two legs to resemble the monster we’d fought yesterday.