Silver Fox & The Western Hero
Warrior Reborn
M H Johnson
Copyright © 2019 by M H Johnson
Cover art by Andrey Vasilchenko
Typography by Bonnie L. Price
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and events are the work of the author’s imagination and all locations are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Thank You
Additional Links
1
What the hell just happened? Those were the first thoughts to trickle inside Alex’s mind as the endless rocking sway he had thought just a side effect of his medications grew more pronounced, and he was forced to consider the possibility that he really was on a ship, rolling on unseen waves.
This certainty grew as he registered the stink of tar and brine in the air, in addition to other strange scents he had never smelled before.
But wait, wasn't he being prepped for cryonic suspension?
He shivered at the memory of those pale blue cryogenic chambers that looked like nothing so much as high tech coffins, filled with corpses kept at -196 Celsius, legally dead even if the normal degenerative processes had stopped.
Alex had read the literature. He knew that for all intents and purposes, dead was dead. His brain functions should have completely halted, and he had known just gazing at that smarmy doctor's smile that the added cybernetic enhancement package his mom had purchased, assuring that Alex would be the recipient of neuromapping used to mirror his consciousness into an AI construct, had been nothing more than the most extreme form of quackery, as was suspended animation in general.
But his mother had looked so desperate, bursting into tears when the doctor had given them the news, less than a year after the death of everyone else in their family, that Alex couldn’t help playing along. He had done his best to reassure her that everything would be okay, happily signing off to whatever extreme therapies might prolong his life, or at least a semblance of his life, that she asked of him.
No matter how much those treatments hurt, the mega doses of chemo drugs, the radiation therapy, even the extreme fasting the final doctor had put him on, he tried them. Until finally, as a group, the entire team of dedicated specialists were forced to concede to Alex and his distraught mother, the heiress of an incredible fortune and a billionaire many times over, that he was utterly doomed.
"Sorry, son. We all did our best. Any further treatment, and we’re just inflicting pain for no good reason. Let’s just focus on making your final days as comfortable as possible,” said Dr. Greenfield, the physician nominally in charge of that once enthusiastic, now solemn-faced band of specialists, before Alex’s mother had burst in tears, sending them all away.
And the thing was, Alex couldn't even hate the doctors that had made his last few months a torture of increasingly brutal treatments that had done absolutely nothing to halt the progression of his disease.
The son of a tycoon, he was no fool. He had done the research as thoroughly as he could, investigating each specialist and their preferred therapies until he felt he knew them as well as they knew themselves. And for all her desperation, his mother was just as diligent as he was.
Each and every doctor he saw had an impeccable track record. Hell, even the used car salesman of a doctor hawking his virtual worlds cryonic paradise had no strikes against him, with dozens of customers swearing they were in regular e-mail communication with their loved ones from whatever virtual pocket world the hefty premiums had bought them.
Even Alex had been infected with that madness, that desperate hope, grateful for all the strings pulled and favors called in to allow him that final option of being frozen while still alive.
Until the morning he was being hooked up, seconds before he was about to be put in that liquid nitrogen bath, and he caught Dr. Wilm's gaze.
Feeling a cold chill in his gut.
"You don't believe a word of your own shit, do you?"
Of course, Alex had only thought it, being utterly unable to say a word, but the doctor's bemused gaze made it clear he knew exactly what Alex had been thinking.
And Dr. Wilm actually had the gall to wink.
Just before a hideous chill had washed over Alex, as if he had been thrown buck naked into Niagara Falls in winter, freezing to an instant popsicle while simultaneously feeling like he was cresting a massive drop in his favorite roller-coaster, hearing the contraption rattle, gazing at his mom sitting beside him, desperate not to go over, then everyone was screaming, his stomach had dropped, and utter blackness consumed him.
Then there had been that strange old man who had looked like nothing so much as an extra in a vintage kung fu movie.
Alex shuddered, pushing aside his panicked, skittering thoughts, forcing himself to focus.
No matter the hype preached in Dr. Wilm's glossy brochure, this was no Third Life fantasy world where he was floating between clouds with unlimited access to Mybook, Freespace, and a thousand e-mail addresses and entertainment options.
He was buck naked and trapped in darkness in a rocking ship, his stomach churning with the awful stench assaulting his nose.
If this was Dr. Wilm's touted virtual word, the man had indeed been pulling a fast one.
"Hello? Is any of this real? Tech Support!" Alex called out as his fingers brushed against damp wooden paneling, hissing as a splinter wedged underneath a fingernail.
And for the first time since coming to, he felt a sudden jolt of fear.
Because the one thing Dr. Wilm and all the AI interface and VR alternate world brochures had been absolutely adamant on was that he would feel no absolutely no pain. Not when he was being frozen, and certainly not with what came afterward.
Even though Alex had feared that the doctor's genuine reassurance was because he knew the rich heir he was putting under was now technically and forevermore a corpse, Alex had read the man's sincerity. Whether in a digital afterlife, or a death so quick he would feel nothing, Dr. Wilm genuinely thought Alex’s pain would be at an end.
And Alex had always had a knack for sensing when people were being honest or deceptive, just like his father, a gift that had made the man such a fearsome negotiator back in the day.
But his finger was most definitely throbbing, he was definitely feeling queasy, and even if sound was muffled, the stench of wood soaked in brine and tar was as sharp and visceral as he could ask for.
"Well shit, don't tell me it actually worked? Am I really here?"
He closed his eyes, not that it matte
red in the darkness, doing his best to pull up the digital character sheet Dr. Wilm had assured would be available to him the moment he decided which of the many exciting virtual reality role-playing games he wanted to jump into for endless lifetimes of entertainment. Supposedly, once he learned the ropes, he'd be able to enter worlds where he could serve as a valiant knight protector, learn the secrets of magic under court wizards, or explore the galaxy as a newly minted officer in a star fleet. Best of all, the game-worlds had been designed so flawlessly that he could supposedly port his learned skills, powers, and abilities from one realm to another.
And that's when Alex, who had been VR gaming for years, had called bullshit. He knew from all the dev blogs he had read that it was immensely hard just balancing one game world with its specially designed races, classes, and powers, let alone having to deal with characters porting in from alternate realms.
There was no way a starship would do anything but cause chaos in a fantasy realm, and Vulcor invaders teleporting onto the bridge of a battlecruiser would have no way of dealing with Deathbolts and mind control if the wizard's apprentice or psionicist decided he wanted to explore the universe.
And even if Dr. Wilm had only given him a strange look of confusion when a heavily drugged Alex had tried to break it down for him, his mother gently patting his hand and explaining to the doctor how heavily sedated her son was these days before going ahead with the paperwork, every person Alex had interviewed, including a handful of extremely well-paid game designers and AI architects, had adamantly believed all the hype they were peddling.
And now, with splintered fists most definitely feeling pain as he banged against the sides of what he was chillingly certain was an old-fashioned wooden barrel with him cooped up inside, finding that he actually could summon a character sheet with his mind's eye, he was forced to as well.
_____________________________________________________________
Alex Hammer
Class – Undecided
Physical Characteristics
Strength 9 (Exceeds 37% of Population)
Vitality 9 (Exceeds 37% of Population)
Finesse 9 (Exceeds 37% of Population)
Quickness 9 (Exceeds 37% of Population)
Spiritual Characteristics
Scholarship 11 (Exceeds 62% of Population)
Perception 13 (Exceeds 83% of Population)
Willpower 14 (Exceeds 90% of Population.)
Qi Pool 0 (All meridian channels blocked. – No Cultivation Pathway chosen.)
Mana Pool 0 (No arcane class chosen.)
Health Points: 100
Perks
Insightful – Rank 2
Charismatic – Rank 1
Skill of Significance
Terran Grappling – Rank 2
Terran Fencing – Rank 1
Terran Capitalism – Rank 3
Mathematics – Rank 2
Interface Enhanced Skills
Biochemical Mastery – Rank 1
Poisons Mastered: – Deathwort 100% (Full immunity. Synthesis & Cure require higher Biochemical Mastery Rank)
Botanical Formulae mastered: – NONE
Arcane Formulae mastered: – NONE
Bio-Contaminants mastered: – NONE
Full Regenerative Capacity – Heal rate based on Vitality. Injuries will be free of scarring. Missing limbs will require 1 month per pound of bio material lost to regenerate fully.
_______________________________________________________
Alex froze, overwhelmed by the strange sense that he was somehow glimpsing his own soul even as he visualized his character sheet.
"Three to eighteen stat distribution, just like in the earliest RPG games," he muttered to himself, not quite sure what it meant and more than a bit miffed to find all his physical attributes below average. He had been considered athletic compared to most kids at his school, always pushing himself with sprints, boxing, and basic takedowns.
Since his father's security had been sticklers for safety protocols, they had taught him the basics of dirty no-holds-barred fighting. Alex had known from a young age he was a prime target for kidnapping, and knowing how to break various grips and chokeholds, snapping back fingers and heel-stomping an assailant's instep before running for his life, had been drilled into him for years. And he had enjoyed working out in the family dojo.
He was no expert, but he had learned the basics pretty damn thoroughly, even if most of his time was spent hitting the books, and yes, his secret vice, gaming at all hours of the night, the only exceptions being the nights before exams. His memory wasn't perfect, but he had a decent head on his shoulders and had always been good at reading between the lines. It was amazing how often one could deduce the answers to questions on a test just by how they were worded, or what was asked in the later questions.
He smirked. All of which probably explained why his Scholarship was only 11 despite all the private schools he had attended, and perhaps his Rank 2 Insight perk as well. Still, all that effort and schooling had only amounted to a few academic skills and a paltry Rank 2 in Terran Grappling, with physical stats that were decidedly below whatever the norm was in this land, or realm, or digital construct, or wherever the hell he was.
He took a deep breath, doing his best to stay calm, focusing on his character sheet to distract himself even as he continued to feel around the barrel. He was grateful that there seemed to be a spigot, probably the only reason why he hadn't already asphyxiated, depending on just how realistic this game world was.
Assuming he was in a game world at all. He shivered, pushing away the mental image of that smiling monk yet again. Then it finally clicked. There was no way he could actually force the staves of this barrel apart, considering the metal bands that would be around it. But he should at least be able to force open the top lid.
Yet save for stinging fists and a sore back, all his efforts availed him nothing.
He took another breath, fighting back panic.
There had to be some way out! Some way…
He smiled as the ship continued to rock, sensing at last the added sway and click of wood rubbing against wood, wondering if his situation wasn't quite as hopeless as he had feared.
He began to rock himself back and forth, taking advantage of the ship's natural swaying, feeling a fierce surge of hope as his barrel's movements became ever more exaggerated, realizing that his was just one more barrel stacked atop who knew how many others.
Yes, it's working! he thought, feeling a fierce surge of triumph and desperate hope as his barrel finally started to topple over.
Before realizing at the last moment that this just might hurt.
You have suffered 1 Light Wound and 10 damage. You have suffered 5 seconds of disorientation.
Alex cried out as he was pummeled by broken wood before gasping in sudden pain, fearing his ribs had been cracked by the barrel that had clipped him as he crashed into a heap. He groaned softly as he blinked his eyes open to lamp light, finding himself in a storeroom in the bowels of a ship, quickly taking in several dozen barrels, several which had toppled over, as well as a small desk and chair bolted to the wall of the ship.
A rough-shaven figure wearing dark stained robes lurched to his feet in surprise before roaring at Alex in a strange language he couldn't begin to understand. But what really caught Alex's attention was the brilliant blue sapphire sparkling on the man's forehead.
Two things happened in rapid succession then, Alex's heart racing in a sudden mixture of awe and terror as he saw the mage? It must have been a mage, summoning strange icy-blue flame into his left hand.
The second was the awful pain sizzling into his flesh as the caustic contents of the second barrel washed against his skin.
You have been dermally exposed to Deathwort! You have full immunity to Deathwort and suffer 0 damage.
You have been dermally exposed to Crimson Parsnip! You have suffered 5 damage to Health and a -1 pain penalty to all actions. Penalty overridden by adrenaline s
urge.
20% Crimson Parsnip Poison Mastery achieved. Damage reduced 20%.
And for all that he had spent the last couple of months wasting away thanks to a terminal illness, for all that he might just be an AI cloned remnant of himself, it still didn't stop several years' worth of emergency self-defense training from coming together in a panicked heartbeat as he fought for his life.
Desperate hands pinned the wrists of what Alex guessed was an ice mage, though he couldn't hold back a bark of pain as the icy cold of the blue flame flash-froze his skin. The mage sneered and spat into Alex's face, trying to pivot the frozen flames of his hand to wash over Alex's head, and Alex fought tooth and nail to lever those deadly hands away. The mage immediately began chanting, and Alex could all but feel the baleful energies being summoned together from the ether at his back, so Alex did the only thing he could think of.
He smashed in his opponent's nose with a headbutt, feeling bone crumple as the man cried out, icy flames immediately extinguishing. Alex quickly dropped to his back, thighs tightly coiled against his belly as the off-balance mage was forced off his feet, falling onto Alex as he immediately extended his legs, hands still gripped to his enemy's wrists, sending the man flying into the broken barrels.
Whereupon the man cried out with a look of horror on his face as he splashed into the contents of the broken barrels, his exposed flesh instantly blistering and sloughing off, Alex’s foe screaming and lurching to his feet, for all that his hands were pitted with bubbling acid burns.
He began howling yet another chant before abruptly breaking off, furious eyes widening with sudden terror, his ruined hands now squeezing his own throat, as if he were choking to death on the caustic fumes washing over Alex as well. Yet they didn't seem to bother him nearly so much as the dying mage, save for a ferocious stinging within his nose.
Silver Fox & The Western Hero: Warrior Reborn: A LitRPG/Wuxia Novel - Book 1 Page 1