by James Hunter
Contents
Summary
ONE: Waiting Game
TWO: Shadow Portal
THREE: Void Terrors
FOUR: Ore Grind
FIVE: Ancient Tome
SIX: Void Drake
SEVEN: Contest of Wills
EIGHT: Good News
NINE: Reunion
TEN: Wanted
ELEVEN: The Keep
TWELVE: Guardians
THIRTEEN: Crimson Alliance
FOURTEEN: Initiate Tutorial
FIFTEEN: Faction Skills
SIXTEEN: The End Has Come
SEVENTEEN: Strategy
EIGHTEEN: Worthy Foe
NINETEEN: Spider’s Lair
TWENTY: Wheeling and Dealing
TWENTY-ONE: Debuff, Death
TWENTY-TWO: Reports, Reports, Reports
TWENTY-THREE: Changes
TWENTY-FOUR: Thief in the Night
TWENTY-FIVE: The Weaponeer
TWENTY-SIX: Plague Tunnels
TWENTY-SEVEN: Gentleman Georgie
TWENTY-EIGHT: Bloodletting
TWENTY-NINE: Mop Up
THIRTY: Final Preparations
THIRTY-ONE: Mount Up
THIRTY-TWO: Light it Up
THIRTY-THREE: Dogfight
THIRTY-FOUR: Boss Battle
THIRTY-FIVE: Peace Offering
Books, Mailing List, and Reviews
About the Author
Dedication
Special Thanks
Copyright
Summary
October, 2042
Three days ago, Jack Mitchel saved his life. By dying.
He dodged a world-ending bullet—in the form of an extinction-level asteroid cannonballing toward Earth—by successfully uploading his mind into the brand-new, ultra-immersive, fantasy-based VRMMORPG, Viridian Gate Online. Unfortunately, he’s also stumbled headlong into a secret conspiracy that will transform V.G.O. into a new feudal dark age.
Jack expected to live out his new fantasy life in peace, but now he and his misfit crew of rebels are the only ones preventing a tyrant emperor and his regime from taking power. Thankfully, everything isn’t quite as hopeless as it seems—Jack has a plan. Sort of. With only a handful of supporters, he’s going to get the jump on the bloodthirsty empire by snatching one of their key cities right from underneath their noses. In order to pull off the impossible, however, Jack’s going to have to develop his formidable Shadowmancer powers, raid some ridiculous dungeons, and make some shady allies—allies who may be more dangerous than the empire itself.
ONE:
Waiting Game
I laid into the swamp oak with the gleaming blade of a woodsman’s axe, watching the groove in the trunk grow ever-wider as chips of wood cartwheeled through the air. I pulled the axe away and swung again, my shoulders burning, my hands raw—even with gloves on—sending one more mighty blow into the gnarled swamp wood. The tree wobbled, teetering for a moment, unsure how it was going to fall, before finally keeling over with a whip-crack of snapping wood. “Timber!” I shouted, quickly backtracking. The felled tree slammed into the ground, sending a quiver up into my achy feet.
I paused, dropped the axe, then ran the back of my hand across my forehead, wiping away a trail of sweat threatening to drip into my eyes.
“This is the worst, Jack,” Cutter muttered, tossing his axe to the vegetation-strewn floor before ambling over to me, drawing a canteen from his bag. He drank with great noisy glugs, clear water splashing down his chin and onto his rough tunic. After almost a solid minute, he pulled his face away and held the flask out to me. I grimaced, eyeing the spit-covered nozzle, and shook my head. He shrugged, killed the remaining water, then stowed the bottle back in his pack. “Suit yourself, friend,” he said, before uttering a horrific belch that left my hair standing on end.
“But seriously, Jack. We’ve been chopping trees and building stupid guard towers for four days. Four. Bloody. Days. Working our hands to the bone whilst mosquitos turn us into banquet meals. How much longer do you plan to keep this up, eh?” A scowl turned his lips down as his face darkened. “Because I signed up for adventure, mead, and piles of easy gold, Jack. Piles of gold. Do you know how much gold I’ve turned up chopping down trees?” He paused, letting the obviously rhetorical question linger in the air. “Zero, Jack.” He held up his hand, fingers curved into a big fat “O.”
I sighed, pulled my own water flask from my pack, and took a drink to buy some time while I thought. The water slipped down my parched throat and hit my belly with a cool splash. After a beat, I slopped a little water into my palm and doused my face—anything to beat back the crushing heat. And it was hot in the Storme Marshes. Worse than summer in inland California, and the humidity left me feeling constantly sticky and gross. “Just until Abby gets here,” I finally said, screwing the lid of my flask back in place.
He rolled his eyes. “Look, Jack, I know you’ve got a thing for her, but just use the stupid Faction Seal already. That seal is practically a license to conjure gold from the air. We could be kings, Jack. True, we’d be kings in this backward mudhole, but even in backward mudholes, kings aren’t expected to cut down trees like common laborers. I want you to close your eyes and picture beautiful women surrounding us, feeding us exotic fruit while we lounge in a tub full of gold marks. Sound good, eh? That could be us, Jack. Storme Marsh kings.”
“We’re not gonna use it until we have a chance to talk with Abby,” I said again, voice firm with resolve. “This seal belongs to her just as much as it belongs to me, and I’m not going to stab her in the back. Besides, unlike you, I’m not interested in sitting around in a tub of gold. I like to work.”
“How do we even know this Osmark bloke hasn’t already gotten to her, eh?” he asked, sidestepping my objections. “You ever think ’bout that? It’s been almost a week since she sent you that message about going to Alaunhylles. If she’s been taken prisoner, how long before she gives us up? Rats on us? And believe you me, if they have her, and really put the screws to her, she’ll rat. Everyone talks under the torturer’s blade, Jack. Everyone. Can we really afford to wait around much longer?”
“We’re going to give her more time,” I replied, feeling a tendril of unease creep up from my gut. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d been thinking a lot about Abby’s fate. In her PM, she’d mentioned going dark for a few days—and Cutter was right, it had been a week. I’d been trying to get ahold of her twice a day, every day since I’d found out about the Faction Seal, with no success. Worse, we were only two days away from asteroid-impact back IRL, which meant Osmark and his goons would be making their play soon, if they hadn’t already. I rudely shoved the uncertain thoughts away.
I needed to talk with Abby. She was smart. Smarter than me. All I wanted was to keep my head down and live my new life as drama-free as possible. International politics and multimillion-dollar conspiracies weren’t for me, and I wasn’t ready to be some sort of V.G.O. king. Abby would know what to do, though. She’d have a plan.
Cutter frowned and rubbed at his temple as though my stubbornness were actually giving him a migraine. “Jack, don’t be a moron. Listen, I understand you want to be loyal to your ‘friend.’” He used air quotes, as if he didn’t actually believe friends existed. “Gods know I wouldn’t do that,” he continued. “I always put myself first, but I can understand why you would do that. But, let’s not forget you have a mandate from a goddess to start your own faction. How could Abby possibly be
mad at you, when a literal divine being appeared and told you to use the bloody thing? That’s just common sense, you stubborn dirt-clod.”
“No, Cutter,” I replied flatly. “I don’t care what Sophia—or whatever her name really is—says. One, I don’t hang my friends out to dry, and two, I’m not sure I trust her. She openly admitted she wants to use us as pawns, and I’m not interested in exchanging one dictator for another. Besides, it doesn’t even make sense to use this thing yet. I understand physical labor doesn’t exactly appeal to you, but do you really think I’m just going to turn myself into a feudal land baron and no one’s gonna notice?”
He frowned and ran a hand through his dirty blond locks. “Ah yep,” he finally said with a nod. “That’s pretty much how I picture things going. You become faction boss, and the skies will part and rain gold coins down on our heads in a deluge of wealth.” He smiled, eyes hazy and distant as though envisioning the downpour.
“You’re smarter than that, Cutter. Just think about it,” I said, tapping one finger at my temple. “Once we activate that thing, it’s going to be like setting a bonfire as big as a mountain, letting Osmark know exactly where we are and what we’ve done. And then? Then they’re going to come for us. And not just them: anyone who catches a whiff of easy money is going to flock to our doorstep with their hands out. So, it makes sense to get our ducks in a row—to get Yunnam as ready as we can and come up with a solid plan—before we go and do something reckless.”
“Ducks in a row—I’ve always wondered where that saying came from,” Cutter mused, rubbing at the five o’clock shadow adorning his chin. After a moment, he threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, Jack. Fine. I guess your stupid code of ethics and your stupid logic make a sort of twisted sense. But when we do form a faction, I expect to be compensated handsomely for my unwavering loyalty. I’m thinking Grand High King of the Thieves, eh? Maybe you could get me a crown made of so much gold it’ll hurt my neck to wear. I think I’d like that.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. He was something else. “Just get back to work, Cutter. This new outer wall isn’t going to build itself,” I said, snatching my axe from the ground, then headed over to the next tree that needed to come down. The palisade encircling Yunnam proper consisted of a simple wall of sharpened logs, about fifteen feet high. Not terrible, but nothing even close to the kind of defenses Rowanheath boasted. And even Rowanheath had fallen to the Ever-Victorious Viridian Empire. Chief Kolle had explained that the jungle itself—with its marshy waters and myriad of deadly beasts—was actually Yunnam’s best line of defense, but in my opinion we still needed to do better.
So, after I’d discussed my ideas and concerns with the chief, the town had elected to build a sturdier, secondary wall out of the black swamp rock so prevalent to the area. But first, we needed to clear the trees back.
I threw my weight behind the axe, carving into another trunk, this one belonging to a twisted weeping willow.
“Hold up,” Cutter hollered, jerking a thumb toward something behind me.
I lowered my axe and turned to find Chief Kolle and his mask-wearing daughter, Amara, striding toward us, skittering along the outside of the palisade.
I offered the chief a hesitant, tired smile, then headed over, Cutter trailing behind me.
“Hey, Chief,” I said with a wave. “What brings you out here? Inspecting the progress?”
“Looking for you, actually,” he replied with a nod, “though, I do have to say things are coming along nicely. You’re keeping our craftsman and builders busy, but they’ve got a sizeable portion of the outer wall already done on the other side. We’ll need more rock and spider webbing soon, but if we keep up at this rate, we’ll have the new wall up in two weeks’ time. A little longer to get the guard towers in place.” He rocked idly on his heels. “What I really came to talk to you about is your training,” he said after a pause.
“My training?” I asked with a frown. “What training?”
He guffawed and crossed his beef-slab arms. “Grim Jack, just because you passed your initiation ordeal doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about being Maa-Tál. True, you achieved your specialization as a Shadowmancer much quicker than most, but you still have more to learn. Much more. Not to mention, you have an obligation to the Dark Conclave and the Shadow Pantheon. You may be a future faction ruler, Jack, but for now, you’re also the lowliest member of our order, and I’ve got a job for you to do. Something to get you out, practicing your skills, and, more importantly, something to take your mind off this missing friend of yours. This”—he uncrossed his arms and twirled one hand in the air—“this Abby you keep talking about.”
“But the wall,” I replied weakly, pointing at the jagged line of trees still waiting to be cut.
“Grim Jack,” he said, “if you’re going to lead, it’s important to learn you can’t do everything on your own. You need to be able to delegate responsibility. We have many hands capable of chopping down a tree or moving around a pile of swamp rock. We have far fewer who can harness the Umbra and conjure the power of shadow. So”—he paused thoughtfully—“where do you think you are most needed?”
I grumbled, glowered, shuffled back and forth on anxious feet, then stole a quick look at Cutter—a giant, smug smile nearly split his face in half.
“Okay,” I finally said, resigned. “I guess my Shadowmancer duties are more important.”
“No,” the chief replied sternly. “Not more important. Just different. As a leader, you must learn that every part is equally important, and every job must be done just so, or things fall apart. Even the greatest general needs men to command, and even the sturdiest wall will fall if built improperly. Now, as to your assignment. In order to better defend Yunnam, I want to construct Arcane Shadow Cannons on each of the guard towers. They’re powerful weapons which can launch deadly balls of shadow energy at any hostile force seeking to harm our land. Building them, however, requires a specialized mineral called Raw Darkshard Ore.
“Not far from here,” he said, “there is an old mineshaft abundant with the material we so desperately require. An ancient remnant from the bygone days of the Nangkri Dynasty, resting in the hills less than a half a day’s walk from here,” he said, pointing due west.
“Seriously?” I held up a hand to stop him. “For my initiation ordeal, you had me track down and kill a nearly indestructible forest giantess, and now you’re sending me on an ingredient gathering quest? An ore grind?” I asked incredulously.
The chief shot me a sly smile. “As I said, there are no unimportant jobs. Not even ones that may seem mundane on the outset. I think you’ll find this quest a bit more challenging than you imagine. You see, Raw Darkshard Ore can only be gathered by Shadowmancers, because Shadowmancers alone may open the way to the Shadowverse, where the ore is located. Unfortunately, the ore is also viciously protected by the ravenous Void Terrors, who subsist on the material. Perhaps”—he thumbed his nose with a knowing look in his eye—“you will find something more than mere ore there. Something extremely valuable for your career as a Maa-Tál. If you’re interested, my daughter would happily show you the way.”
A quest screen popped up in front of me:
Quest Alert: Gather Raw Darkshard Ore
Chief Kolle requires Raw Darkshard Ore in order to construct Arcane Shadow Cannons, needed for the defense of Yunnam. There is a natural source of the ore in the Ancient Darkshard Mine, half a day’s walk from the city. The ore is guarded by the ravenous Void Terrors of the Shadowverse.
Quest Class: Common, Class-Based
Quest Difficulty: Moderate
Success: Gather 100 pounds of Raw Darkshard Ore. Amara must survive.
Failure: Amara dies while on the mission.
Reward: 15,000 EXP; schematics for Arcane Shadow Cannons; increased reputation with the Dark Conclave and the Shadow Pantheon.
Accept: Yes/No?
I read the quest over. I always hated the endless ingredient gathering assign
ments RPGs often offered, but it sounded like there was a twist here if I was wise enough to see it. One I couldn’t afford to pass up—especially if it kept my future faction base safe from potential invaders. I reluctantly accepted.
TWO:
Shadow Portal
“For the record,” Amara said as we weaved through thick jungle vegetation, scaling a treacherously steep slope to the west of Yunnam, “I am not happy to be doing this. You”—she shot me a frosty look through the slits in her bone-mask—“may have passed the initiation ordeal, but I still don’t enjoy being a babysitter. Like some common forest guide.”
“Glad to see you’re bringing your positive outlook with us on the trip,” Cutter replied, in between labored wheezing.
“This from the man who oozes sarcasm and scorn like an infested wound,” she snapped, glaring at him. There was certainly no love lost there. Just so long as they kept it to bickering and didn’t stab each other.
“So what’s the deal with this Nangkri Dynasty your father mentioned?” I asked, sidestepping a mucky pool of brown water, then clambering over a downed tree covered in fuzzy moss and riddled with brown-capped fungi. It reminded me a bit of the Moss Hag, actually.
“Why do you want to know?” she asked sharply, a hint of warning in the words.
I’d been hoping to steer things back onto more friendly—or at least neutral—ground, but apparently, I’d hit some sort of sore spot. Either that, or this was just the way Amara responded to every question. Hard to tell with her at this point. “Curiosity?” I finally replied with a shrug. “Just seems like something interesting to talk about while we walk.” Plus, I was savvy enough as a gamer to know there was likely a quest chain tied to something like that.
She sniffed in disapproval and looked away, resuming her restless scan of the land, eyes never ceasing their search. “Instead of your chitchat,” she replied, “maybe you should practice the art of silence. You make enough noise to alert every potential enemy in the area of our presence. You are like a baby Troll, blundering through the forest without a care in the world.” She turned away and picked up the pace to a near jog—a clip fast enough to ensure Cutter and I were too winded to talk anymore.