Hellbound (Saga Online #2) - A Fantasy LitRPG

by Oliver Mayes

  Lillian waited a full half minute anyway. Nothing happened. That was it? That was all they had to do? Why? What did that have to do with anything? She stalked back over the threshold to have another look at the plinth. Andrew strode along behind her, a faint tremor to his voice ruining an otherwise brilliant performance in the role of someone who couldn’t care less.

  “Yay, we can push on, fantastic. It would be even more fantastic if our direct competitor wasn’t at least one step ahead of us, so we’d better not spend too much time...retracing...our own.”

  Lillian was boggling at the text. While Andrew had gone out of his way to make his solution as discreet as possible, it’s still much easier to solve a problem when you’re attacking it from two angles. She rechecked the plinth.

  If you’ve erred and don’t unwrite your history—

  She checked the fine print of the reset button she’d just selected.

  ‘Warning – selecting this option will erase all browser data from your Mobius Enterprises headset. This includes, but is not limited to: passwords, cookies, bookmarks, preferences and history.’

  Her history. It had sounded so grandiose, buried in text that spoke of decency, rulers and purity. But all along, she only needed to clear her browser history.

  She turned back to Andrew, who had one eye scrunched shut. She felt quite relaxed. She had no idea why he’d made such a fuss about it.

  “Neat trick. Erase your browser history, unwrite your history, very clever. Still don’t know why you were so uptight about telling me, though.”

  Andrew, far from relaxing, clenched his other eye closed. Then he turned away from her and stuck his fingers in his ears. Lillian was about to shove him when the penny dropped. Purity. Erring. What did her browser history have to do with...oh. Oh God. OH GOD.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  Andrew didn’t turn, but he raised his head into the air and jammed his fingers a little deeper into his ears.

  “There it is. Knew you’d get there in the end. Despite my best—”

  “I don’t do that! I’ve never used the headset for anything like that! That’s a lie!”

  Andrew’s fingers obviously weren’t working. He pulled them out and turned around.

  “You sure? Never? Because I have a very specific memory—”

  “Shut up.”

  “Oooookay then.”

  Lillian folded her arms and glared at the plinth. Well, Andrew had promised, then she’d promised, then they’d both delivered. If anyone was to blame in this situation, it was her. Just the way she liked it. Though not so much as usual under these circumstances. Andrew, now the bubble had already burst and he’d been proven right, as usual, was regaling her with his methodology. Accompanied by his usual, refined, ‘I told you so’ aura.

  “I mean, logically, we knew we were on a crusade. The very least we should’ve done was delete our browser histories. If it makes you feel any better, the only two players who passed the test were underage. Everyone who could use the headset to look at adult material, did. Hammertime figured it out before he crossed over. He’s probably whacking one off right now, while he admires his own avatar in the third person.”

  “Says the guy who spent half a day making his own avatar. It took Hammertime about two minutes to find the solution to the riddle. How long did it take you, again?”

  Now that did make Andrew’s face pucker. A small consolation prize for Lillian’s own lost face.

  “That’s a low blow. You said I needed to make my avatar look good, so I’d be a contender. And I never said how long it took me to solve the riddle, but it was around six hours. In fairness, it was pretty hard to concentrate when Godhammer could come back at any moment and murder me.”

  “So you hung around here watching them? I thought I told you to log off?”

  “You ‘recommended’ we all log off. The rest of them did, wisely. I “stupidly” stayed behind so I could test the second riddle and watch them solving the third. I could only do it in thirty-second shifts but it was enough to get the gist.”

  Lillian felt her hard facade waver, just a little. Andrew had stayed there until 1am. At least. Then he’d woken up at 6am and incited her wrath, just to give her all this information, privately. Considering the state of their relationship, he was pretty brave to summon her here and convey the nature of his discovery. Which led to another question.

  “How will we tell the rest of our party to deal with the last riddle?”

  “Same way I told you, but more nonchalantly so we get less friction. For all our sakes. I doubt they’ll overthink it like we did. Hammertime was in a heck of a rush, though. If he just sent a message saying ‘delete your browser history’, I’m pretty confident his whole party is aware they’re surrounded by perverts.”

  Lillian brayed laughter before she could stop herself. That observation took some of the sting out of her ordeal. She got it under control as quickly as possible, only to find Andrew wistfully smiling ahead. Another point to him. Curses. She hadn’t thought she’d find any joy over the course of this encounter. Now she had, she needed to allocate more energy to concealing it. She coughed in her throat, then went back into business mode.

  “We’ll have a look at the next riddle together, then I’m off to get breakfast and coffee. I’ll be back on tonight.”

  “Sounds good. If you unblock me, somewhere, I’ll update you on our progress. But once you’re offline I’m going to bed. Need to catch up on sleep, it was a long day.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have a much better day myself, now I know this is in good hands.”

  Andrew’s smile grew, until he realized it might be a little too big. He coughed to cover his face while he regained his composure. Lillian let it slide. He’d earned it.

  15

  Memory Lane

  Damien kept his head down as he passed the internet cafe for the third time in ten minutes. Each time he committed to entering, he found a convincing alibi to change direction at the last second; he wasn’t going inside! He’d just been crossing the street, he’d mistaken the internet cafe for another shop further down the road or he’d left his wallet at home. While none of these scenarios were true, they were all perfectly feasible alternate realities that precluded confronting the one he resided in.

  He’d been out shopping for groceries, making himself useful while ‘Daemien’ was dead in yet another alternate reality. He could only stay at home reading the comments on his profile page for so long before the walls started creeping in. His stunt yesterday had certainly attracted a lot of attention. A lot of it was good, but not all of it.

  The complaints in this case were wide ranging. Anger at being misled, dissatisfaction with the short length of the stream (which seemed particularly selfish to Damien), too much emphasis on in-game politics rather than gameplay, and – get this – ‘shoddy camera work’ while in combat. If Damien started slowing down so his viewers could get a clearer look at whatever was killing him, his streams would be a lot shorter.

  Had those same people been watching this grocery run through his eyes, they’d have crucified him. Not the ones admonishing stream length and camera work, though. They’d be complaining in other directions by now. Damien had bought his groceries between the second and third runs to ensure, one way or another, that he would soon return home. He passed the door for the third time. Then stopped in the street, turned around and marched inside.

  The gloominess had been desirable when Damien had first passed through, but it made a very different impression now he wasn’t looking for somewhere to hide. A few seconds after he’d stepped off the street, his unaugmented eyes still acclimatizing to the dingy interior, all the lights were thrown on. Damien squinted at the man responsible and he squinted back, a vapid smile plastered to his face as though his retinas weren’t flash-frying in their sockets. It was not the old man Damien had feared seeing. He relaxed, then became more concerned in a new direction. Where was Gian? Who was this guy? He was much younger
, maybe in his early twenties. Or late twenties. Early thirties? He wasn’t very good at eyeballing that yet.

  The new proprietor made it a little easier with his opening statement.

  “Hey! I mean, hello. Please, have a seat, you’ve got the whole place to yourself. Not the pods, they’re unavailable until...until later. If you like, I can...oh, but first you have to pay at the desk...sorry. Haven’t been here long. How can I help you today?”

  However old he was, early thirties was way out. This guy was too polite, too bad at talking to people, and most important of all, he obviously cared too much. Damien knew it was an unfair pigeonhole, but his brief experience told him that the older people got, the less they cared about stuff. Either that, or they learned to stop showing it. He himself was still waiting to find out which. The shop had been completely empty when Gian was behind the desk, and the old man couldn’t have cared less. This guy was falling over himself just to say hello.

  Damien gave his first hidey hole a once over while his host stumbled through the introduction. The old, manky curtain concealing the bathroom stalls. The computer desks, still gathering dust as the age of screen games settled into its long-lowering coffin. And the haphazardly stacked pods, now laid to rest before their time. Mummified, as it were, with extravagant amounts of red tape. How wrapping them up made their presence any safer was a mystery, but the CU officials who’d performed the embalming had obviously considered their work done before moving on to spread their tidings of bureaucracy to the next struggling establishment. They hadn’t caught the shop down the road that had feigned closing down for the last decade. Of course not. That might’ve been useful.

  There was no sign of Gian anywhere. This was a problem. Damien had assumed he’d be identified the moment he walked in. With this stranger in his place, he’d have to take the additional step of identifying himself as the harbinger of their misfortune. It would be easier to come back when Gian was working and let the misery commence organically.

  “Sorry, I was looking for Gian; older person, on his antique phone a lot. When will he be back?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just me and dad running this place for the next few weeks, until we shut do— until business picks up. Gian won’t be coming back. I can pass hi—”

  “Why won’t he be coming back? Did he get fired?”

  The words tumbled out of Damien’s mouth before he realized how incriminating they were. Fortunately, the new manager was still focused on customer service rather than putting two and two together.

  “I’ve taken over for him, and Antonio still runs the night shift. I’ll see Gian when I get home, so I can bring him a message if you like. What would you like to tell him, and who should I say was looking for him?”

  “That’s okay. Thanks for your help. I hope the pods get sorted out soon.”

  Damien turned and was out the door before the new host could even reply. They were a family business. Damien wished he’d minded his own. Things were not going well for them. It sounded as though Gian had been permanently removed from duty, thanks to his interference. It would’ve been easier if he’d just moved on. An apology wouldn’t fix the mess he’d made. He headed back home, wishing all the while that he’d left the past where it belonged.

  “You’re early.”

  Lillian gave Andrew a cursory nod, walked straight up to the plinth and read it again. It had been a nice change of pace, talking to him again yesterday, but she’d rather not get too chummy. They still had work to do. She’d spent every available second thinking about it all through the day, without any means of testing her theories. All she had was conjecture, which had taken her no further than she’d gotten with Andrew in the early hours of that morning. Reading the riddle face to face was no more helpful than reciting it at work.

  The third quest houses key that’s hidden near,

  But looking for it makes it hard to find,

  Don’t focus on the path and it shall clear,

  Or focus and be trapped by your own mind.

  It was gibberish. The whole riddle was self-contradictory and unhelpful. Since when did looking for something make it difficult to find? They had to unlock the door, clearly, it was right there. What was this garbage about being trapped by your mind? More unwanted melodramatic flair. Lillian walked up to the gate and double-checked it, just to make sure she hadn’t been seeing things when she and Andrew first looked it over that morning.

  There was a prominent keyhole set into the middle of the gate, large enough to suggest the key was about the size of a short-sword. ‘Near’ had to mean within the courtyard. She and Andrew had searched for an hour that morning without success, but they knew they were on the right track as Andrew had watched Hammertime’s group go through the same process.

  According to Andrew, the four players had combed the courtyard for nearly five hours before they finally found the key. He hadn’t seen who got it, but it was the only logical explanation. They’d taken a ten-minute break sitting together in a huddle, presumably to congratulate themselves, and passed through the open gate a short while later. It started closing immediately after they’d left.

  They’d considered whether or not Hammertime’s group would be able to take the key with them and had decided against it. Even if they did, it probably respawned somewhere when the doors closed, as with any other dungeon that had notable on-site requirements, although this ‘dungeon’ was unlike any Lillian had ever been subjected to. The alternative, that only the first group could pass through, didn’t bear thinking about.

  Lillian checked her friends list and found Mr. Healy, Judgementday and Legolias conspicuously absent. They needed the additional bodies to help reduce the length of the search. She thought Andrew had said he’d get that covered.

  “Why isn’t everyone else here yet?”

  “They’re all logging on after dinner. I got them into the courtyard individually over the course of the day, don’t think any of them figured out the implications. I sent you a message saying so. Thanks for unblocking me, by the way, but I guess you didn’t check before you logged on.”

  Lillian nodded and went back to what she was doing. She couldn’t focus on the path, but had to find the key. Their current theory was that the key was invisible and hidden somewhere in the massive courtyard. If that was the case, it would be the least absurd of the three riddles they’d encountered so far. It was the only theory they’d come up with where the last line and Hammertime’s actions tied together to make any sort of sense. You couldn’t find the key by looking for it, so you had to open your mind to other possibilities. Such as the possibility that the key was invisible.

  No wonder Hammertime’s group had wanted a ten-minute sit-down by the time they were finished. If she and Andrew got lucky and did a good enough job of searching, maybe they could all start the next riddle once the rest of the team got back. She turned to Andrew, who was standing and watching her. Waiting for orders. They could pick up where they left off that morning.

  “I’ll start on that side, up against the wall. You start on the other side. Make sure you sweep it thoroughly. If we meet in the middle and haven’t found anything I’ll have to assume you missed it, then I’ll have to check your side as well.”

  “And likewise, I’ll have to assume you missed it on your side. So if it comes to that, we’ll check each other’s sides.”

  Lillian grunted. If he moved into her half and found the key somewhere she’d missed it, she’d be mortified. She gave him a nod, then headed to her position.

  She’d already decided the most efficient means to check for the key. She could push her sword in front of her over the ground, sideways, and listen out for any noises. That would require her to be on her hands and knees, so it would take longer. Alternately, she could drag her hammer behind her, although that would drain her mana through Divine Might quickly, and would be less sensitive. She’d test them both, then—

  “Actually, Lillian, before we get started I’d like to talk to you.
If that’s alright?”

  She groaned and shambled back around, setting her sights on Andrew. Who hadn’t moved from his spot. She just wanted to get on with the quest. Hammertime could be ten riddles ahead by now. They needed to catch up and didn’t have as much time to do it in as the professional-streamer-turned-amateur-betrayer did. Every second counted.

  There was also a good chance that the Carlisle-Elite would figure out the first riddle for themselves and follow them inside. They could already know the location and the time, having followed Trinytea there yesterday. There wasn’t much more to the riddle than that. At least they’d still be kept at a distance by the second riddle. The courtyard that had fractured Lillian’s authority would now provide a barrier against the vast majority of encroaching enemy forces. Solving the third riddle would be a lot more difficult with enemies breathing down their necks, though. Better they figure it out as soon as possible. She reasoned with Andrew as gently as she could bring herself to.

  “Is it important? More important than this? Can’t it wait?”

  “It can, but this is of long-term importance rather than short term. While you had a whole party to deal with I didn’t want to get into it, but now it’s just us. I’d like to use this time before the rest of our players get here to have a conversation. Ten minutes, before we start doing the quest.”

  She hadn’t come here to have a sit-down and an awkward chat. She’d come here to get her party through that door.

  “No. Definitely not. And Andrew, sorry, but they’re my players now. Just because Hammertime threw away his role as ‘co-leader’ doesn’t mean I’m considering someone else for the position. We’ll talk after we’re through the quest. Maybe. Not before. We don’t know how many more riddles there are, Hammertime could already be on the last one. Go do your side, we’ll meet in the middle.”

  She turned and made her way to the furthest edge of the courtyard, then dug her shield into the corner and wiggled it around, looking for a telltale sound. A clink, most likely, if it made contact with this infernal hypothetical key. The corner clear, she put the edge of the shield about a millimeter away from the wall and started lightly dragging it backward across the ground. She was completely focused on what she was doing. So Andrew’s voice from just a few feet behind her came as a bit of a shock.