The Quest_Last Gods Book 1

by Linton Bowers

  “Oh good. I was afraid I had someone else's blood in my mouth.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “What are you doing?” Clone yelled. “Get up and run you idiot!”

  Actaeon jumped to his feet and ran. The ground burst open behind him sending him into the air. As he flipped head over heels he saw the demon was on one knee and elbow deep in the crater it made when trying to hit Actaeon.

  His head and shoulders hit the ground before the rest of his backside slammed down. Stars dominated his vision. Lungs that had their air forcibly removed failed to draw in more. His health bar dropped from the half it had been at the start to around a quarter. He wondered if there was an option to see a percentage. Thirty percent materialized over the red bar in white letters.

  Clone dropped into the star-field of Actaeon’s vision. He grabbed Actaeon by the shoulders and hoisted him to his feet. Clone’s mouth moved but all Actaeon heard was a constant ringing. Clone then shook his head and spun around. His grip stayed tight on Actaeon’s shoulders right up till the moment he let go.

  His duplicate grew farther away as Actaeon flew through the air. A dust cloud rose up from the force of Clone’s legs pushing him off the ground. The demon hit the arena floor where the clone had been.

  The plan had been simple. Distract the demon while Clone gets behind it to knock it down. Use those precious few moments to jump a guard and get his glowing spear. Then impale Demon Lord, on said spear. At the rate they were going both Clone and Actaeon would be dead in a few minutes.

  Actaeon rose to his feet. He wanted to see if Clone would become his own man. He needed to see that man live. He had to act.

  Clone ran away from Actaeon with the demon in pursuit. The level five copy was much faster than Actaeon. He also seemed fairly strong considering how easy he managed to throw Actaeon. He wondered if he would be that strong and fast at level five.

  “Hey, bro!” Clone shouted as he ran. “Run this way and be ready!”

  Actaeon jogged toward the retreating forms of Clone and the demon. “What is the plan?”

  “Just be ready. You will know what to do!”

  Clone ran straight toward the group of guards holding the yellow glow tip spears. They backed up a few steps and glanced at each with apprehension clear on their faces. It was a good sign. If they choked when the time came Actaeon’s job would be a lot easier.

  Clone screamed as he charged into their ranks. His right shoulder drove into the middle of the closest guard. Clone tore the spear from the cat-man and spun around. The spear left his hand and sailed past the demon. It stuck in the ground at Actaeon’s feet with a thud.

  It became clear what the new plan was. Before Actaeon could grab the weapon he watched the next event in rapt horror. Several spear tips burst from Clone’s chest. The wielders forced the clone to his knees.

  Blood erupted from his mouth in a cough. “Actaeon! Promise me you will get out of here and do something with yourself! Promise!”

  Tears filled Actaeon’s eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. Clone smiled and went limp. In one terrible second Clone’s eyes dulled becoming lifeless.

  “I will. I promise,” Actaeon whispered.

  The demon lord roared reminding everyone that he was still there. It charged the guards. Those that didn't have their weapons stuck in Clone stepped forward. They brandished their glowing spears at the demon. It skidded to a stop and stepped back. It let out a roar of frustration then turned to face Actaeon.

  The demon lord charged. Actaeon pulled the spear free. The demon roared. Actaeon spun the spear so the tip pointed at the monster. The demon and the man collided.

  The spear tip flashed a bright gold before the metal sunk into the demon’s torso. The collision and crushing force didn’t come. The demon was stopped cold by the magical weapon. Golden light spread out from the wound like a spider web of cracks. The creature let out one more roar before exploding in a shower of golden sparks.

  Actaeon dropped his weapon and fell to his knees. His eyes landed squarely on the body of his fallen double.

  The crowd erupted in cheers!

  “There you have it ladies and gentlemen! Once again the hero Prike is victorious!”

  Actaeon barely noticed the guards rushing up and throwing him to the ground. They secured his wrists and ankles with leather thongs then lifted him off the arena floor. They turned him around and marched him toward the far exit.

  Actaeon twisted his head around as far as he could manage. He watched a couple cat-men lift the clone and carry him away. He vowed to find the freedom he promised, whatever it would take.

  CHAPTER 8

  Back in the corridor, Actaeon was greeted with cheers. The occupants of the other cells jumped on the bars and reached out their hands when he was carried past.

  The cat-men dumped Actaeon back in his cell. Their task completed they left without a word. The noise from the others was deafening and didn't stop when his cell was closed. To get away from it Actaeon backed himself to the far wall and lay with his hands covering his ears.

  The ring of metal on metal split the din. The cheers resumed. The clanging bang rang out three more times. “Enough!” Followed a voice he didn't know. “You all need to rest or reflect on the day, or do anything other than being loud. Tomorrow will not be an easy day for any of you!” The cheering died down to silence.

  “Did you truly go through the Prike and Demon Lord scenario?” Asked the guy on the cell next to his. It was the gremlin speaking.

  “Yeah,” Actaeon said. He wasn’t up for being sociable.

  “I’m Dru, it is amazing that an untrained would survive a demon lord. How?”

  “I don't want to talk about it,” Actaeon replied.

  “I can understand that. Now that you made it this far it's only fair you know what comes next. If you are interested in knowing that is?”

  Actaeon wanted to smash his little brown and green face in to get some rest. But the information would be far more valuable than the comfort of silencing him would be. With his decision made he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

  “I’m all ears,” Actaeon said.

  “Good good, but before we begin what do I call you, friend?” Dru asked.

  “Actaeon.”

  “Ha, a man of many words. Very well, Actaeon. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” A grime covered hand snaked through the bars. Actaeon shook the proffered appendage.

  “The man just went through a tough match, Dru,” Cane said. “Why don't you let him be?”

  “It's alright,” Actaeon said. “I want to know what I’m in for.”

  “I do not know where this idea of leaving the new guy in the dark came from, but it is not right, Cane.” Dru snapped. “A man has a right to know his fate.”

  “And a woman,” cried out a female voice.

  “Yes, all of us do. I still say we need to communicate more than we do,” Dru said.

  Cane snickered. “Very well, Dru. Please feel free to inform Actaeon of our glorious life here.”

  “First you need to know that week one is going to be hell.” Dru slid closer to the bars and rested his forehead against them. “You are going to be pushed to your limits and beyond on a daily basis. Tell me, did you gain any levels from your fight?”

  “I don’t know,” Actaeon replied.

  “You haven't checked?” Dru asked.

  “Don’t know how.”

  “Oh, well that part is easy. There should be a flashing icon on the bottom left of your vision. Notifications are set to auto minimize during combat as default. Focus on the icon and will it to open. Then you should have at the least a summary of battle damage dealt and received. Let me know what you have,” Dru said.

  Actaeon did see the icon. He concentrated on it and a bunch of overlapping windows popped up in the center of his vision.

  Ding!

  Congratulations! You have achieved level two. You have been granted one stat point and one skill point.


  Ding!

  Congratulations! You have achieved level three. You have been granted one stat point and one skill point.

  Ding!

  Congratulations! You have achieved level four. You have been granted one stat point and one skill point.

  Ding!

  Congratulations! You have achieved level five. You have been granted one stat point and one skill point.

  “Oh wow.” Actaeon mumbled to himself.

  “What is it?” Dru asked.

  “Huh,? Oh. It's nothing. Just getting used to the interface.”

  Actaeon pulled up his character stats and allocated his four points. He put one in strength, two in stamina, and one in dexterity. The plan was to find a way to become a hunter remained. Actaeon wanted more than anything to get a companion pet.

  He willed away the level up messages.

  You killed Demon Lord. You received 1,200 experience points. You are 280 points away from next level.

  He cleared that menu. The next was a long list of damage dealt and received. He took far more than he gave. That wasn’t something he was prepared to dwell on. He dismissed that window.

  You learned skill: Novice Unarmed Combat lvl 1

  You now know enough to get beat up in a bar.

  That was a comforting thought. At least he had a place to put his skill points. Or maybe… Actaeon wondered what skills he might learn once training started. It might be better to sit on those for a while. He wasn’t a monk after all. He dismissed the window. Then he thought better of it and brought up his stats. He allocated one point to Novice Unarmed Combat. Better safe than sorry.

  Quest received:

  You have been offered a quest by your magically created doppelganger.

  Quest name: Survive and Escape!

  With his dying breath, your magical doppelganger asked that you live and gain your freedom.

  Quest reward: 1,000 XP and your freedom

  Do you accept?

  “Huh?” Actaeon mumbled.

  “What? What is it?” An excited Dru asked.

  “Nothing, hang on a sec. I think I’m almost done.”

  A yes and no buttons were at the bottom of the window. Actaeon focused on yes and the window vanished. This one was a no-brainer. Though he did wish for some monetary reward as well, seeing as the quest giver was dead he was glad to see he would get something besides being free. Which was a grand reward in and of itself.

  Congratulations you have received 100 reputation points with the arena guards. You are untrustworthy. You Have 900 more points until you are neutral with the arena guards.

  That wasn’t a rep stat that Actaeon was going to be grinding anytime soon. He dismissed the window. There were no more windows. In their place, a wide eyed man with a large nose and pale weather worn skin stared at him.

  Congratulations you have received 500 reputation points with the arena slaves. You are now friendly with the slaves. You have 3,000 more points until you are trusted with the arena slaves.

  Name:

  Actaeon

  Level:

  5

  Class:

  Ranger

  Atributes

  Strength:

  2(1)

  Dexterity:

  2

  Stamina:

  4(2)

  Charisma:

  1

  Intelect:

  2(1)

  Luck:

  2

  Proffession

  Proffession:

  None

  Level:

  Skills

  Skill

  Novice Unarmed Combat

  Level:

  1

  Abilities

  Ability

  Novice Unarmed Combat LVL 1

  Reputation

  Arena Guards

  Untrustworthy 100/1000 to Neutral

  Arena Slaves

  Friendly 500/3000 to Trusted

  Unspent Stat Points

  0/0

  Unspent Skill Points

  4/4

  “Well?” Dru asked. “Did you gain levels from your fight?”

  “Yeah, I’m level five now,” Actaeon replied.

  “Wow!” Dru’s eyes went wider.

  A whistle sounded from the cage across the walkway. Actaeon looked but in the dark he could just barely make out the form of a large person sitting in the cage.

  “Hi?” He said. There wasn’t a response.

  “Don’t mind that one,” Dru said. “She keeps to herself.” He scratched his cheek as he looked at the cage where the whistler resided. “She doesn’t speak to anyone, but be wary around her. She is the best fighter among us. You don’t get that title by being friendly and helpful. Stear clear is what you should do.”

  “I see.” Actaeon stared trying to see more than a dark silhouette. He failed. For a moment he thought he saw two small glowing dots where her eyes would be.

  “Where did you spend your point? Do you have any skills to place your skill points on?”

  “Don't be a fool, Dru. You know damn well he spawned with no skills just like the rest of us.” Cane snapped.

  Actaeon wondered why Cane was so hostile to Dru. “I’ve only used one point on Novice Unarmed Combat so far. I’m not sure what would work best and I have just the one skill. I’m hoping to get more useful skills. Maybe from training?”

  “Oh yes most assuredly. You should learn a skill in at least one weapon tomorrow. There may be others depending on how well you do. With that being said, you should really get some rest. Tomorrow will be a grueling day for you. For all of us really, but more so for the uninitiated,” Dru said.

  “I think I will. Thanks, Dru.”

  “Get some rest, brother Actaeon. I will see you in the morning.”

  Leopard spots and tiger stripes took that time to reappear. Tiger stripe banged on Dru’s cage. “Your turn in fight, Grelca.”

  “Damn, I was hoping to not have to fight this go round. Any idea what I’m in for?”

  “You in for beating if not hurry!” Leopard shouted.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Dru crawled out of his cage as he spoke. He didn't talk as he was marched away.

  Actaeon laid back down on the hay and muck. He was glad the place was warm. A cold floor would have pushed him over from misery to straight up suicidal. After reviewing his stats a few more times wondering how each would affect him he dozed off.

  He woke up sometime later to the sounds he was coming to associate with the prison. Coughing, banging, and the most disturbing sound, crying. He looked for Dru but the cage was empty.

  “Hey, Cane,” Actaeon said. He turned to look at the cell behind him. “Is Dru still in the arena?”

  Cane let out a sigh and shook his head. “You were out for a long while. Games ended a couple hours ago.”

  “So where is Dru? Is there a special place the winners go to?” Actaeon asked.

  “Yes, you are in it.” Cane looked down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am sorry to say that Dru will not be returning.”

  Actaeon swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. “Are you sure he…”

  “He is dead.” A husky female voice said from across the walkway. “If you do not toughen up then you will join him.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Larion shot up out of bed. Sweat covered his skin and soaked his night clothes. Wide frantic eyes darted around the dark room looking for enemies. Searching for the blade he was certain was coming for him.

  “Larion? Larion, honey, are you okay?”

  It was the voice of his mother. And the name she called was his own. But hadn't he just been …

  “I'm fine, ma. It was just a bad dream.” He became aware that it was in fact a bad dream as he spoke the words.

  A dream that was quickly fading into the recesses of his mind. What remained were flashes of a man clad in black plate armor wielding a blade so dark it seemed to eat the light around it. There was also the sensation of need. Larion needed to leave and search, b
ut for what and to what end he didn't know.

  Fear continued to eat away at Larionas his heart raced and sweat ran down his back in thick rivulets. If he was going to get back to sleep he had to be sure. He pushed back his thick wool blanket and the cool night air chilled his sweat covered skin.

  The room he slept in was in fact a loft. A small space above the kitchen area of his family home. He crept to the edge of his sleeping mat which put him on the edge of the loft. There across the room, past the small dining table and behind a half wall, were his ma and da. They lay in their bed snuggled up together for warmth and he imagined the comfort of having one another close.

  Satisfied that he was at home, Larion crawled back under his blanket. The thick wool did an excellent job of trapping his body's warmth. After a few short moments the cold sheen of sweat warmed to a comfortable level. Larion was back into the world of dreams before he knew it.

  CHAPTER 10

  Images of a knight in black armor carrying an all black sword haunted Actaeon’s dreams. His armor and blade the color of pitch drunk in the light surrounding him.

  He had flashes of the knight standing on a hill facing down countless monsters. The brown skin creatures charged and the black blade met them.

  There was a ship. The knight stood alone on the cracked and weathered planks of its deck. Apparitions wielding curved blades rushed in from all sides. The black blade absorbing all light as it swung back and forth.

  “Actaeon! Wake up man!” The shouting combined with someone pushing his shoulder repeatedly brought Actaeon to wakefulness.

  “What?” He rolled over to see Cane’s arm reaching through the bars.

  “You were making a lot of noise. If the guards heard you they would have come and beat you till you woke up. A few nights before you showed up they beat a man so bad he never woke up,” Cane said.

  “What time is it?” Actaeon asked. The taste on his tongue brought a longing for his toothbrush.

  “It is time to get up and go. If the guards have to wake us you will not like it. When the doors open you need to run.”

  Actaeon noticed his clock said it was five am.

  Loud banging signaled the opening of the first cells. “Get up you curs! It time to train!”