by John Gold
Undead, Miridia, ???, Small Pantheon Goddess
There’s a witch sitting on a bone throne and wearing the brown armor of a priestess. The bones of all kinds of different intelligent creatures are scattered around her, even some from dragons and dried-up mermaids. They’re both the framework and the decorations for her throne.
It’s a trap! The bones aren’t just littered around. They’re in specific spots, and all flush with strength. There’s a grain of divine energy in each that gets stronger the closer I get.
If I were in her place, certain that only one opponent would be showing up, I would create a trap designed to confine him or overwhelm him with numbers. There’s a spell in necromancy that includes both those kinds of trap: the dance of death.
When the assailant shows up, the bones pull themselves into the skeletons of different creatures depending on the strength of the mage and the command they give. If there’s a real threat to the necromancer, the bones form a shield around the opponent that immobilizes him. And those shields aren’t that easy to get out of. They stay there for as long as the mage still has mana to burn, making them jails for life when the necromancer is a god. Of course, you can get away with a leap spell, though getting caught in the spot you leap to would be very, very bad.
The second way to use the bones is to create bone armor that feeds on the owner’s mana supply. The problem there for normal necromancers is that their mana doesn’t replenish, though gods don’t have to worry about that thanks to the connection they have to their source in the astral. Basically, I’m up against an opponent who will unleash skeletons on me the second she spots me. If I try to run, she’ll lock me up in a bone cage. And the first attack I try will trigger everlasting bone armor. That, however, is the issue: she can’t attack and defend at the same time, though she will have divine magic left over to attack with whichever way she goes.
Time to move! I knock back a couple potions to boost my stamina and intellect, the effect set to last for less than a minute.
When I activate my power of darkness spell, I force my opponent onto the defensive. Complete darkness enshrouds everything in a hundred-meter radius. Five minutes until I can use that again. Miridia instantly activates her bone armor and fires off some area-damage spells. She can’t see me, doesn’t know where I am, so she’s swinging blindly in the hope of catching me without my powerful magic shield up. The problem for her is that I make a shield with extra durability that can take 50 million damage for five to ten seconds.
Next, Miridia throws up a protective barrier that I take out with a simple arrow of darkness. I have to conserve my mana. She’s able to get a thick, semitransparent diamond shield above her, though I’ve already gotten around behind her back, so she just encloses us both in the dome. A slight breeze clues her in to where I am. As she swings her arms in an attempt to catch me, I study her armor carefully. The spell effect doesn’t do anything to me. Her elbows and knees are protected with flexible plates. Her shoulders and hips only open up at a certain angle, and her eyes are covered by a bone strip of the helmet with multiple holes cut out. I can see her eyes through them, though they’re too small for me to jab anything through.
I have less than twenty seconds left when I finally see a narrow gap in the plates covering her throat. It’s barely a centimeter wide, but it opens up when Miridia throws her head back after yet another miss.
Breathe in, breathe out. My bone blade slips into the crack, a force blade is released, and my weakened opponent’s head topples to the ground. There’s no such thing as absolute protection; I know that better than anyone.
I set off from the scene of the kill calm and raring to go. The feeling of emotional exhaustion is completely gone, having given way to emptiness in my consciousness. Even though I won the battle, I still head over to the rest area to review how I’m feeling. The lack of emotion has me operating purely on reflexes. When things are dire, the emptiness inside helps me find the path to safety, though it’s a mode I’m better off only using when there’s a specific reason to.
From what I can tell, I’m now able to keep going. The space distortion is apparently no more.
It takes me three days to find a good compromise between my robot and normal person modes. But I decide to keep going, finding clear boundaries in the way I feel that delineate the halfway line, then the third marks, and then the quarters. That’s as fine a point as I can put on the control I have over my emotions.
After two days in my handmade sensory deprivation chamber, my consciousness starts to switch back and forth on its own, going from robot mode to normal adolescent mode. Perception is just as much a burden as a gift.
I come across nine more opponents following Miridia, four of which are natural gods. There are the three mermen who almost killed Femida and me on the River of Life, and Gabmi, the divinity who refused to help my parents when they were being kidnapped. I make sure to kill all of them twice, as those kills count toward my godkiller achievement.
Achievement received: Godkiller. Fourth rank.
Kill fourteen divinities. Killed: 14.
Reward: +400 to all attributes
The third kill, just like in the other trials, doesn’t do anything for me. I have no desire to go back for Bernard and Miridia, however. My opponents all learn from their battles with me, and each round is harder. I won’t be able to pull it off if they correct their mistakes. It just isn’t worth the risk.
Half an hour ago, I killed a Level-19511 opponent, but I just stopped short after sprinting for fifteen minutes. No, I’m not tired nor do I need a break from the game. I can feel through the fog up ahead the power, hatred, and disgust I felt ten years ago by Airis Castle. LJ pops up in my consciousness to soothe me. Since my meeting with Bernard, I’ve been absolutely certain who my final enemy would be: the being who killed my parents and laughed at the grief of a child.
Undead, Talamei, ???, Small Pantheon God
It would be hard to forget that fifty-meter body with its semitransparent skin and bulging vertebrae even if I tried. The disdain he has for the weak, the way he loves to demonstrate his strength and status… All of it is revolting. As I creep closer to him, I switch off all my emotions and focus entirely on his presence. That enables me to notice him before he notices me.
The fallen god has been waiting for me to show up, and he’s apparently learned how to conceal some of his strength. I can’t see him, from where I’m standing, though his silhouette is as clear as day. One more step, and I’m a goner. He’s stronger and more experienced than Miridia; the magic field around him is distorted; I can hear a light hum that tells me how powerful his magic is.
Nope. I don’t have a chance at winning. I need to adjust the balance of power—that’s the only way I can buy myself any chance at all.
A message pops up after my last opponent.
Achievement received: Titanbane. Three hundred and thirty-third rank.
Kill an opponent 16600 levels higher than you.
Reward: +1 660 to all attributes
After returning to the rest area, I run back along the border, almost to the very beginning. Crazyman’s Forest has grown a bit since I’ve been gone. Only the area around the filled-in mine is just as lifeless as before.
“Attribute window.”
Name: Sagie (Almark)
Level: 2911
Experience: 889660/30015620 (28192060 left until the next level)
Race: Human (demigod [unavailable])
Class: Mage
Basic attributes
Strength: 3812
Agility: 3812
Stamina: 13224
Intellect: 26787
Available attribute points: 0
Additional attributes
Speed: 500
Survivability: 2845
Derivative attributes
Physical damage: 1906 (strength/2, but no less than 1)
Carrying capacity: 9530 kg (strength*10/4)
Overall strength: 147490 (stamina*10+1525
0 from tattoos)
Mana: 110618 (overall strength*0.75)
Health: 36873 (overall strength*0.25)
Health and mana restoration: 28450/minute (mana*2)
Running speed: 184 km/h (1+speed/10)
My battle skills are a time and a half better than they were. I’ve boosted my skills, unlocked access to supreme spells, and used potions to give my fighting power a boost, but it’s still not enough. Talamei is an impassable barrier, even if I have access to my astral source of strength. I need to weaken him, and that means going back to Crazyman’s Forest. It’s time to get serious about curses.
Logout
∞ ∞ ∞
Femida has visited me twice in real life. Today, she’s back, and starts telling me over tea what’s going on in the outside world.
“That bastard Leon was able to make his own guy the archmage. You know, the kid you tried to turn against him.”
“Kirk?”
“Oh, no, he’s now Kirk the Light-Faced, envoy of the gods on earth. Leon turned his defeat into yet another victory.” Fem’s eyes lose focus as she scrolls through the news on a site. “The Golden Hand clan is going through a complete reorganization, with key figures removed from positions as head of fortress defense, battle group training, and team oversight. Rachel’s personal squad was disbanded. Efforts to find the Mystery turned up nothing. The Good Morning, Vietnam headhunter guild set up an entire network of mind mages to look for Sagie both in our world and the Inferno. Not a single clue as to his whereabouts has been found in either place.”
“Judging by the payments I’m getting every month, Leon still thinks you’re the key to keeping me in my cage.”
Femida smiles.
“I think he’s figured it out or at least suspects. How are things with you? It’s been more than nine months, and you still haven’t really told me anything.”
I pause for a second before replying. There are some fears I’ve been keeping to myself, and now is the time to bring them out into the open.
“I’m afraid of losing my humanity in this thing I’m going through. A little while ago, I came across a copy of Rachel and killed her almost a hundred times. First, it was the location affecting me, then I killed her to work on my resistance to rage. After that, I practiced not feeling emotion or worry. But the problem is that I’ve almost forgotten how to enjoy life, how to love, laugh, enjoy good food and company. Losing your emotions is terrifying. Just imagine not being able to love Ekron or enjoy the kisses and time you share with her. Imagine that you forget what it’s like to love your parents, how much you enjoy the presents you get from them, how you wait for your mom to come home from work so you can tell her about your day. Imagine a world where you don’t feel any emotion. Fem, I’m scared… What kind of person am I going to be after the Gray Lands?”
We sit there quietly, drinking our fragrant tea. The balcony on the second floor offers a great view of the children frolicking in the pool. It’s a sunny day, they’re laughing and shouting, and the breeze is warm.
Femida relaxes a little.
“From what you’re saying, the trial intensifies your emotions. The farther you go, the harder it is. I think that means that the trial is more about controlling them than suppressing them. And you’re doing a good job.”
“I appreciate you saying that. It means a lot.” The girl grunts and smiles. “How are you and Ekron doing?”
“Roni handed supervision of the demonologists over to Anri Diuval.”
“And he agreed? He’s a life mage down to his very bones! What kind of damn demonologist instructor could he be?”
“Yes, he agreed. He said that he wanted to enjoy life after meeting with you, and that this would give him the chance to see the world and resurrect the Demonologist Order. You can pat yourself on the back for that one.” The girl lowered her voice, trying to make it sound more masculine. “Tell him that debts should always be repaid.”
“Idiot! He should be out having fun, and you made him take the job. Ah, screw it, and don’t change the subject. I asked how you’re doing.”
“So-so. We cleaned out three dwarf banks, a bunch of stores, and two imperial treasuries.”
“Busy bees!”
“After that, we decided to check in on a storehouse belonging to one of the top clans, though some god showed up and sent us back to the respawn. Then, two liberation campaigns freed the cities we robbed, and they pinned the blame on us. About 60% of the continent is free. We’re always fighting, since the gods and kings have money and rewards out on our heads, so we moved to a deserted area in the Inferno.”
After Femida leaves, I go back to studying my books on malefism. To unlock the skill, I need to perform a few curse rituals. That’s what you do when you don’t have a teacher, and it means I’ll be able to pick up the skill and have a decent chance at beating Talamei.
I’m back to the thousands of victims I curse in all kinds of terrible ways. Dozens of them lie on the ground, unable to get up after I robbed them of 99% of their strength. They can’t take their equipment off, and its weight is more than they can carry.
Going from victim to victim, I cast all kinds of different curses: blindness, near-deafness, dumbness, loss of 99% of their survivability, loss of control of their limbs, and diseases. Happily, they don’t suffer. They just lie there dying quietly on the ground.
The books on malefism reveal two interesting things. First, all accursed places have a constant debuff that can’t be removed, taking effect until such time as the player leaves the place. The renegade mage describes it as an effect on the victim’s mental body via the astral. The only way to protect yourself is to use magic shields that cut you off from the astral, with just one class in the world capable of casting them—paladins. I leave saints out of the question, as they get their set of skills and spells from their divinity.
The potential to curse gods in these places intrigues me. The fact that the source of their strength is in the astral and their mind is in the body of their avatar means that casting a bubble like that would be akin to cutting off their own head.
The second interesting thing is that accursed places appear where mass murder and blood rituals have taken place. That’s huge! To create accursed places with permanent debuffs, you need items that emanate the magic of death, and I just happen to know where to find all kinds of extremely powerful items like that.
Heading down into the mine, I can feel the darkness tenderly caressing my body. It’s trying to suck the life force out of me; I just laugh.
Damage received: 22700000 (ignored: 25000000)
36873/36873
What a rush! I’m gripped by the kind of excitement pioneers feel when they make their first discovery. The clingy arms of fear try to wrap themselves around my consciousness, a soft voice whispers terror into my ears, and a cold breath coming from behind me paints horrifying pictures. Screw you all! I’m not the person I used to be! It’ll take a lot more than this to scare me.
As I dig up my altar, I feel like a child looking for presents under the Christmas tree. A total of twelve ponderous stone slabs lie under the mine in a neat pile, but they aren’t giving off a permanent curse.
I go back to the books on malefism, reading them from cover to cover and analyzing how seals are made. One experiment after another goes by. Finally, it’s with horror that I realize I’m just a week away from losing my demigod class rank.
Ten minutes later, I’m back to digging through the sketches of the rituals, having resigned myself to my loss. Just one false move could cost me everything.
It’s at some point during the second week of reading, rereading, trial, and error that I finally convince myself that there just isn’t a seal for creating accursed locations. That means, it’s more about the ritual than the seal.
It takes me half a day to form a theory on how accursed places are created. Another half a day goes by as I test the theory. The altars themselves become part of an enormous seal, while the ritual makes them wo
rk together to transmit the same effect. It’s a twelve-pointed star with a single-use altar at the center. The ritual turns out to be an inverted version of the seal for mass, lifelong curses, with each altar intensifying the effect after activation. I place the last sacrifice on the new altar in the middle before activating my destroyer gift.
Pick the effect you would like your ritual to have
Mass self-sacrifice
Everyone within the zone of the ritual seal receives 22700000 mental damage
Curse of weak legs
Permanent 90% loss of strength
Curse of one lung
Permanent 75% cut to strength supply
I take the curse of one lung and immediately remove it with a panacea. But it’s back up in my panel of effects just a fraction of a second later.
The central altar disintegrates into gravel as soon as it’s used. A black cloud rises above the dissolving remains of the victims, splits into twelve parts, and rushes toward the second part of the reverse seal. Then, the bodies piled at the nodal points collapse into dust, creating a black haze that seeps into the twelve altars around the perimeter of the accursed seal. I did that! I created a mobile accursed place with my own two hands.
Experiments show that the kind of curse depends on the strength of the victims. The order and strength of the curse depends on how well developed those strengths were. For instance, I used Grunt, a hand-to-hand fighter, for my first experiment, after which hirelings, marauders, and a couple priests all got a turn.
The next day is spent dragging altars to where the battle is going to be, and then arranging the right victims. Rachel puts up a fight, though not for long. I stun her, run eight hundred kilometers, and finally have my victim.
Debuff received: Goblin foundling
Effect: -90% intellect