Viridian Gate Online: Crimson Alliance: A litRPG Adventure (The Viridian Gate Archives Book 2)

by James Hunter

  With a deep breath, I leapt over the meandering, unobtrusive stream and made my way deeper into the swampy marsh, avoiding fetid puddles of water and the constant tangle of vines. On this side of the stream, the jungle was strangely quiet—no chirping birds or chittering squirrels, not even the constant drone of buzzing insects. Nope, just the dull thud of my footfalls on damp earth, occasionally interrupted by a leaf crunching or twig snapping. As I got closer to the Hollow, however, I began to hear a soft but persistent rustle, an unnerving sound like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together.

  Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch, over and over again.

  The awful, low-pitched noise sent chills racing along my spine, despite the humid swamp heat. From personal experience, I knew the unnerving sound was actually unseen spiderkin rubbing their hairy legs together like a horde of massive, nightmare crickets. Crickets that would slurp out my insides if they caught me. I pushed away the awful thoughts racing through my head; at this point I couldn’t really afford to doubt or second-guess myself. I took a few deep, calming breaths, then checked my user interface and readjusted my course so I was heading straight for the Queen’s lair.

  I closed the menu and headed on, confident this was the right move. The only move.

  The dry rustling became louder and more insistent as I drew closer and closer to the Hollow. Before long, gauzy silver webbing began cropping up behind me, ensuring I couldn’t turn and flee the way I’d come. I also began to catch glimpses of movement at the edge of my vision—a multi-jointed leg here, a bulbous belly there, or occasionally the glint of a curved fang. Whenever I spun to catch the creature, though, the forest was always empty and quiet, save for the ever-present rustle of legs. The spiderkin were herding me like a steer headed for the slaughterhouse.

  An odd sense of déjà vu settled over me as I walked.

  They’d done this same thing to Cutter and me the first time we’d blundered through here, so it shouldn’t have been quite so disturbing. But it was disturbing. Part of me wished I had Cutter along, but I knew this was something I needed to do alone. There was a good chance this whole endeavor would go sideways, and I wasn’t willing to risk an NPC on such a foolhardy gamble. It was a gamble someone needed to take, though. If we were going to capture Rowanheath, we’d need to breach the inner wall surrounding the Keep, and to do that, we’d need the Queen and her disgusting children. End of story.

  I just hope my new Recruitment ability worked the way I thought it did—

  I paused mid-step as a spiderkin scuttled boldly into view, blocking my path. More of the creatures scuttled through the trees to either side, while several appeared from the canopy overhead, dangling above me on fat cords of spider silk. They had me boxed in nice and tight. I wasn’t sure I could kill so many of them, but with my Shadow Stride ability, I was reasonably sure I could escape if it came down to it. But I wasn’t here to fight, I reminded myself, not if I could help it. Besides, the spiderkin weren’t attacking, so maybe there was some hope yet.

  After a few tense heartbeats, the spiders lifted their front legs into the air and began to wave them back and forth, huge limbs swaying like long grass in a stiff breeze.

  I turned in a slow circle, trying to figure out what they were up to. I didn’t have a clue. After another second, they lifted arachnoid faces to the sky—their spidery jaws stretched wide—and began to speak.

  “The troublesome fly returns,” the spiderkin said as one, their voices crooning at me from every side. “Do not be disturbed by this method of communication,” the spiders said, voices buzzing like an electric saw. “My children are all linked to my mind, and at times I choose to speak through them.”

  “So this is the Queen I’m talking to?” I said, trying to sound calm and confident instead of nervous, bordering on terrified.

  “Just so,” the spiders droned in reply. “Last time you visited us, you brought us an honored enemy—one that very nearly killed me. So this time, I thought it prudent to stop you before you blundered into my lair.”

  “I’ve come to talk,” I said, slipping my warhammer into the frog at my belt and raising empty hands toward the sky. “I mean you no harm at all. Exactly the opposite, actually. I’ve recently formed a faction—the Crimson Alliance—and I’d like to discuss the potential terms of a peace treaty.”

  “So you’re Grim Jack,” the spiderkin said, sounding almost thoughtful. “I saw the Universal Alert, as did all citizens and creatures of Eldgard, but I hadn’t yet put a face to the name. What an enigma you are, troublesome fly. But what pray tell makes you think I’d like to bargain with you and your kind in the first place? The Shadow Children across the stream are my enemies—enemies who have hunted my children for as far as memory stretches. Yet you would have me strike a truce with them? What makes you think I wouldn’t rather just eat you now?”

  The spiderkin around me began to scuttle in, tightening the circle around me like a noose. Those raised, waving front legs were almost close enough to reach out and touch, and there was no direction I could move in without running right into another set of hairy legs or dull black eyes. I paused, licking my dry lips, working a little moisture into them.

  “You let me go after the battle with the Moss Hag,” I said, a slight waver in my words. “You could’ve eaten me then, but you didn’t. That means you can be reasoned with. You’re not just some monster, and I think if you hear me out, you’ll see this deal will benefit you and yours as much or more than it will benefit me and mine. Sure, you could eat me here and now, but if you make a treaty with me, I can promise you enough human meat to feed your brood for a decade.”

  The spiderkin stopped their slow-moving onslaught. “Human meat,” the spiders hissed, their fangs dripping with viscous strands of green drool. “We do so love the taste of man-flesh.” A long thoughtful pause followed. “I am intrigued enough to hear you out, troublesome fly.” A flood of sweet relief washed through my body like a wave at high tide. Oh my God, it worked.

  “But first,” the spiderkin said, “a little test. We are predators, and we don’t make deals with prey.” The word sounded like a curse. “Prove yourself worthy and I’ll hear out the terms of your compact, though that is no guarantee of peace between us.” An alert popped up:

  Quest Alert: Worthy Foe

  Prove your worth as a predator and worthy foe by successfully battling your way to the Royal Throne Room of Lowyth the Immortal Orbweaver. If you can overcome her legion of minions, you’ll earn the right to an audience.

  Quest Class: Rare, Faction-Based

  Quest Difficulty: Infernal

  Success: Battle your way to the Royal Throne Room of the Spider Queen.

  Failure: Die before reaching the Royal Throne Room.

  Reward: Audience with the Spider Queen.

  Accept: Yes/No?

  I read over the quest, feeling just a tad queasy at the “Infernal” difficulty level, but accepted it all the same. What else could I possibly do?

  The second I selected yes, a terrible screech reverberated through the forest as the spiderkin burst into manic motion, rushing at me from all sides. I dismissed the quest screen in a blink, then fished my warhammer from my belt just as one of the spiderkin lunged for me, its venom-coated fangs flashing out. I threw myself into a hasty dive and rolled back to my feet in a single fluid motion—remembering Cutter’s training, which felt like a lifetime ago—before pivoting and smashing my hammer into the creature’s exposed side.

  The first blow punched a nasty hole in its abdomen, and a quick follow-up put the creature down for keeps. I offered the dying creature a fierce smile before spinning to engage another brown-legged monster. I blasted this one in the face with an Umbra Bolt, which sheared through the creature’s skull like a laser blast, knocking off three-quarters of its hit points, leaving it reeling drunkenly on its many legs. I thrust the spiked tip of my hammer right into the creature’s fanged maw and killed it in a flash. The last time I’d tangled with spiderk
in, I’d been seven levels lower and I hadn’t even managed to unlock my class.

  This was a downright cakewalk.

  I spun, twirling my hammer in an overhead arch before one-shotting another spider as I triggered Savage Blow, which earned me a critical hit. These things really were a breeze—at least individually—but more and more were pouring in every second, and I was beginning to worry they’d simply overwhelm me before long. Even easy mobs in big enough numbers are a threat. I dropped to a knee and rolled left, avoiding a spider descending from the trees above, then triggered Shadow Stride with a burst of inky power. The horde of advancing spiderkin came to a herky-jerky halt all around me, frozen in place like horrific monster-movie props.

  I blew out a quick breath, then quickly legged it through the jungle, sprinting as fast as my Stamina would allow while I kept one eye on the Shadow Stride countdown timer spinning away in the corner of my vision. I ducked under low hanging vines, hurdled moldering tree trunks, and leapt over pools of water, fighting to put as much distance between me and the horde as possible. My countdown timer flashed right before time came crashing back down on me, accompanied by the enraged screeches of an army of spiders off in the distance. I had a forty-five second cooldown on Shadow Stride, so I crossed my fingers and dropped into Stealth.

  The deep shadows of the jungle reached out and embraced me, swallowing me whole as I vanished from sight. Safe for now.

  I carefully wound my way through the warren of trees and jungle growth to the edge of a giant clearing, marked on my interface map as the Hellweb Hollow. My destination. The meadow was ringed by towering old-growth trees, and in its center sat an enormous concave pit, covered in gauzy webbing: the entrance to the Queen’s lair. I’d half expected to see the monstrous matriarch waiting patiently for me, but she was absent, biding her time below, no doubt. There were a lot of spiders, though. Fifty or more, loitering about, guarding the entrance against uninvited guests.

  My Shadow Stride ability had finally recharged, but I decided to try and Stealth my way past them instead—I could always trigger Shadow Stride if things went south. I took a few deep breaths, then stole forward, moving in a low crouch toward the yawning hole, as big around as a subway tunnel. I held my breath the whole way, terrified that even the slightest noise would bring every spider crashing down on my head in an avalanche of legs, hair, and fangs.

  Five feet out, I stopped dead in my tracks as a huge spider—this one muted gray in color, which was new—rappelled down from the trees and settled near the entrance of the pit. The creature, close enough to reach out and poke, turned its ugly face directly toward me and seemed to stare at me. Great beads of nervous sweat rolled down my face as I waited for the spider’s war cry to go up. But it never did. After a few seconds, the creature simply turned away and scampered toward the clearing’s perimeter. I let out a silent, shuddering breath, then crept forward and slipped over the edge of the pit, lowering myself into darkness.

  NINETEEN:

  Spider’s Lair

  I dropped into a sloping tunnel, the walls were coated with gossamer webbing generously littered with leaves, twigs, and other bits of debris, including the bones of a few small animals. I expected to find the Royal Throne Room right away, but I was wrong. Instead, a circular passageway cut into the earth before snaking out of view. Still cloaked in Stealth, I crept onward, tentatively feeling my way along, on high alert for any potential traps or attackers. Once I rounded the bend, the sunlight died completely, swallowed by the dark, but odd glowing fungi lined the ceiling like a living carpet, shedding feeble light along the path.

  After a few seconds, my Night Eye ability kicked on, giving everything a pale blue tint. Deeper I went. It didn’t take long before the first mobs appeared: a quartet of muddy-brown spiders scuttling toward me. They seemed oblivious to my presence, but between the four of them, they took up the entire passageway and would blunder right into me. Even with my Stealth abilities, there was simply no way to avoid them. No way around them. Looked like I’d have to do a bit more fighting, which actually didn’t bother me too much—after all, these things weren’t all that hard to kill, and I could use all the extra EXP I could get my hands on.

  I pulled my warhammer free, planted my feet, then patiently waited for them to creep closer. I launched a Stealth attack as the first spiderkin entered my range—I put my full body weight into the swing, pretending the spiderkin’s misshapen head was a baseball. The blunt face of my weapon landed with a thud, earning me some significant backstab damage and a critical hit, which absolutely obliterated the creature’s skull in the process. The other three let out a chorus of angry screeches, but I was already moving before they could coordinate any sort of proper defense. I twirled through them like a tornado of flesh, steel, and shady magic: thrusting here, smashing there, unleashing an Umbra Bolt at a spiderkin trying to flee.

  The whole encounter took a handful of seconds, and I barely felt winded. That was nice for a change, since most of the mobs I’d encountered so far hadn’t exactly been easy prey. I collected some shoddy loot—a Rusty Dagger (shoddy), a Copper Buckler, and a handful of silver coins—along with a bit of EXP before moving on.

  It didn’t take long before I discovered this place wasn’t just a few dinky hallways with a handful of extra rooms; no, this place was a full-on dungeon—an impressive one with a seemingly endless number of twisting tunnelways. I also found plenty of mobs to battle. At first, it was just a bunch of the brown-haired spiderkin, which I quickly dispatched and looted, but those quickly gave way to chitinous, gray spiderkin called [Sword-Slayers], which moved like greased lightning and hit harder than Mack Trucks. Much, much tougher. And they were aptly named since their arachnoid legs were razor-blade sharp along the edges and ended in a stabbing point.

  Eventually, the Sword-Slayers were replaced by sleek black spiders [Poison Darters], which were a bit smaller, but armed with some formidable toxic attacks—including the ability to launch a barrage of venom-slick fangs through the air like arrows. Much tougher and much smarter, but they also doled out significantly more EXP and loot. A few even dropped a gold mark, which wasn’t shabby at all. On and on it seemed to go: Poison Darters disappeared after a time, replaced by [Portal-Crawlers]—electric blue spiders that could teleport in an eyeblink—followed by [Colossal Spiderkin]. The name really said everything that needed to be said about them.

  On the plus side, I managed to score a new ring—Ring of Leech Tongue, which granted me 25 points of life absorption per kill—and a sweet new cloak to replace the Rough-Worn Cloak of Stealth I was currently sporting:

  Cloak of Web-Walking

  Weapon Type: Cloak

  Class: Magical, Attire

  Base Armor Rating: 12

  Effect: 15% increased chance to avoid Movement Restricting Debuffs.

  I put both of those on without a second thought before moving on.

  Eventually, the main passageway opened up into a labyrinth of interconnected tunnels and strange rooms filled with all sorts of bizarre stuff. One cavernous space contained a forest of oversized mushrooms, some as large as trees, in a hundred different varieties and a riot of hues: fire-hydrant red, sickly neon green, eye-burning electric blue. The whole room glowed with their spectral light. The gamer in me wanted to explore the area—there were undoubtedly some ultra-rare ingredients in there—but then I caught sight of a pair of bulging yellow eyes just before something enormous and studded with thick tentacles slipped out of sight.

  Yeah. On second thought, I really needed to stick to the quest at hand, cool loot or no.

  There were lots of rooms besides Fungus City. A few looked suspiciously like communal living spaces: the rocky walls were littered with honeycombed nooks and crannies, which seemed to serve as sleeping quarters for the monster bugs. There were also treasure rooms, filled with chests of gold and silver, and scattered with weapons and armor of all sorts. Those, I wanted to raid, and consequences be damned, but unfortunately they were also jam-
packed with thick webbing and the forms of hulking spiders just waiting to attack like junkyard dogs.

  I’d need a proper team to clear some of those areas. Another time, I scolded myself before moving on.

  The most disconcerting room, though, was what could only be a combination meat locker and kitchen. Bodies—some human, most not—covered every surface. Many hung from the ceiling in silken sacs. Others were strapped to stalagmites and stalactites jutting from the ceiling and floor. Even more were stacked against the craggy walls like firewood, just waiting to be used up. Consumed. Looking at all of those bodies—and some were still clearly alive, judging by the way the sacs wriggled or swung—made me sick down to my core.

  Is this really the right move?

  Despite what I’d convinced myself of, these creatures were clearly monsters. Maybe intelligent monsters, but still monsters. Could I really justify striking a bargain with these things? And even if I did, how could I be sure that deal wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass big-time later on? I didn’t have any good answers, but my mind instantly recalled the first line from the Recruitment skill description: “The enemy of my enemy is my friend …” Maybe the Spider Queen and her children would be a problem later on, but for now they might just keep me and my friends alive.

  So, I pushed the awful thoughts from mind and left the horrific pantry behind, skirting around another bend, which terminated at the biggest cavern I’d seen yet. The place was easily the size of a football stadium. Impressive to say the least. Scattered across the floor and lined up against the walls were bulging egg sacs, filled with the shadowy forms of spiderkin. Eight-legged, nightmare babies waiting to be born. Directly in the center of the cavernous room sat a dilapidated pyramid of rough stone. Huge steps led up to a flat dais with an elaborately carved throne at its middle, and hanging above that—suspended by a thousand threads of silk from the ceiling—was a gigantic ball of webbing with a hole in the bottom.